Sorry Not Sorry

by Jaime Reed

  “We need to get started,” the doctor announced, and the bed began to move again.

  “Just breathe through it.” Grandma Trina squeezed my hand. “I’m right here, baby.”

  My body clenched, my limbs stiff as petrified wood. I tried the breathing thing she suggested, but it came out in shallow hiccups. “I’m. Scared.”

  “I know. You’re gonna be fine, you hear me? You are the bravest person I know,” she said.

  My head teetered along the pillow. “I’m not brave. I’m not brave. Grandma …”

  At some point, she’d let go of my hand and we were moving again. I closed my eyes tight and envisioned the stars on my ceiling and wondered if Alyssa was going through the same thing. Was she scared, too? Was she cold? Or was it just me …

  “Janelle? Janelle!”

  Someone was calling my name. They kept saying it over and over, trying to get my attention. Eventually, my eyes opened. My lids felt heavy and sticky. I strained to pull them apart, but then they snapped closed again.

  Grandma Trina’s voice whispered in the dark, warm and soft as the hand on my cheek. “How are you, baby?”

  “Drugged.” That was the only way I could describe this all-encompassing weirdness. I could sense that some significant amount of time had passed, but I couldn’t get up to speed. Everything had happened in a blink. I was awake, freaking out over the anesthesia, death, and life. Then blink-blink. I lay in the recovery room. What had happened during the surgery? Why did my body feel so stiff? What was this thing up my nose? What was this thing sticking under my—

  “It’s a catheter. They need to test your urine and see if you’re at full capacity,” Grandma Trina supplied helpfully. “You won’t be able to leave the hospital till you can do a full number one and two.”

  I cringed. “How’s Alyssa?” I mumbled.

  “She just came out of the OR. The surgery went well. The kidney’s already workin’.” Her smile eased what little anxiety I had left.

  “That’s good.” My eyes rolled around, up to the hanging lights, searching for her in the room. “Is she here?”

  “On the other side of the curtain.” Grandma Trina scooted between our beds and pulled back the partition.

  Alyssa was still unconscious, but even from this distance, she looked better, not so ashy and clammy. She had more color in her cheeks.

  “Alyssa?” I whispered. “Alyssa?”

  “What?” She sounded annoyed, which meant she’d recover quickly.

  “Are you okay?”

  Her eyes were closed and her face was mashed against her pillow. She mumbled, “I was fine before you started buzzing around my ear.”

  “I think the operation went well,” I told her.

  “Oh yeah? That’s great, buddy. Yay, teamwork! Night-night.”

  Nothing but soft snores came from her side of the curtain for my next four hours in the recovery room. A nurse came in every few minutes to check on us between naps.

  After I got the all-clear, the nurse rolled me back to my room on the third floor. The initial purpose for the move was for me to get sleep in a peaceful setting. However, the constant beeping of machines, the inflating and deflating blood pressure cuff on my arm, and the incredible throbbing in my back kept me up most of the night.

  The nurse instructed me on how to use the painkiller button. The dosage was preset, only dispensing the prescribed amount every few minutes so I wouldn’t OD. I wasn’t used to sleeping on my back, and every shift and roll on the bed felt like being swaddled in a blanket of fire.

  But the hard part was over. I’d done what I set out to do.

  The next morning, I was forced by the on-duty nurse to eat. I ordered eggs and toast, and no food in the world could pack this much flavor. My taste buds felt brand-new. The nurse told me that it was a common side effect after surgery, but I suspected it had to do with me not eating for thirty-six hours. All the same, Mateo’s theory about opposites came to mind and lingered after every bite.

  The first few hours went as expected. Doctors and nurses poked at my bandages and took more tests, all the while refusing to remove the catheter.

  “It needs to stay in a little while longer, sweetie. We’ll take it out tomorrow and see if you can go to the potty on your own,” the nurse told me in a cutesy voice suited for a Muppet.

  Did she really say “potty”?

  Soon, Grandma Trina returned from our house with more food, an extra blanket, and my laptop, as requested. I spent the next few hours on Skype with Sheree while Mama called in on speakerphone. I gave them both a detailed rundown of the surgery. Mama was making her feelings clear about me having a serious operation so young, but as always, big sis stood in my corner. It was hard to get a word in edgewise when talking to two opinionated women in the same room, let alone through two gadgets.

  “I can’t believe you donated a kidney!” Mama wailed.

  “I told you weeks ago, Mama.” My ears were still ringing from that last conversation with her. Rumor has it that the memory was the first thing to go in old age. Or maybe she was in shock or denial or both.

  Now Mama’s words came out shrill and panicked. “I still can’t believe it! I just … How could … I didn’t know you had it in you, baby.”

  “She had two in her, actually. They’re a set. Like Twinkies,” Sheree replied.

  “Oh, you hush up, smart-mouth,” Mama chastised. “What are you gonna do about school, Janelle? You’ll need time to recover. How long will you be out? Will you be able to graduate on time?”

  “Mama, she’s still in the first semester of senior year—”

  “Did I ask you, Sheree Claire?” Mama snapped. “I ain’t make this long-distance phone call to talk to you about somebody else’s medical problems. I wanna talk to my baby.”

  “I’m your baby, too!” Sheree cried.

  “Girl, you got one more time to interrupt me and I’ma hop on a red-eye to Haiti and it’s gonna be me and you.”

  There was something wickedly amusing about seeing your sibling getting chewed out by your folks. It created a balance in the cosmos and confirmed that you weren’t the lone troublemaker in the family. Plus, the scrunched-up faces Sheree made through the screen gave me the giggles.

  “Just know that Christmas break is in a few weeks, and I’ve got a long memory, Sheree. So make all the faces while you can.” Trust Mama to issue a threat from another continent and still give me the chills.

  Sheree and I froze. My eyes searched the room for cameras. How did parents do that? I think all moms have a bit of Professor X in them or they bug their kids with microchips at birth.

  When the room got quiet, Mama redirected the conversation to me. “Go on, Janelle.”

  I pointed at the screen and made an Ooh-you’re-gonna-get-it face at Sheree, who stuck her tongue out at me. Then I informed our life bearer, “As long as I pass all my exams, I should be okay. My teachers know what’s up and all my assignments will be emailed to me. But I’ll only be out of commission for two weeks and be at full capacity in six.”

  Though she sounded perturbed, Mama conceded. “Well, I guess that’s something. I wished you’d done this after high school. You’re just so young and haven’t seen the world yet.”

  “I’ve seen more of the world than most. And I doubt Alyssa would’ve made it for that long,” I explained.

  Sheree watched me through the monitor and asked, “So how are you feeling?”

  I twisted my shoulder left and right, then fell back onto the pillows. “I’m mad sore. They’re gonna try and make me walk around, but they won’t let me pee on my own.”

  “No. I meant in here?” She patted the space over her heart.

  “I feel good. I feel more relieved than anything else. Alyssa will have a chance at life now. Let’s hope she makes the most of it.”

  Day two was more of the same. Food, vitals, reflex test, and a bandage change. These guys had an unhealthy interest in my pee and kept checking the volume level in my catheter ba
g.

  Today was visitation day, and everyone I knew rolled up to my room: kids from school, people from church, and the transplant team. Even Nurse Bambi swung by to check on me. By the time everyone left, my room looked like a flower shop. Grandma Trina had to take a few to her suite in the humanity house where she was staying on the Wellness Center campus.

  Late in the afternoon, just when I was about to settle into a nap, someone tapped on the door.

  “Come in,” I called, then sat straight in my bed when I saw who stepped into the room. Holding a potted plant, Sera stood in the doorway, looking out of place.

  “Hey,” I managed.

  “Hey.” She held up the flowerpot and stepped up to my bed. “I brought you this. I wasn’t sure what to get you.”

  “Thanks.” I took the plant and set it on my meal tray. “You rode up here with Ryon?”

  “Yeah, he’s in Alyssa’s room now. She looks great, by the way. Not so pale anymore.”

  I nodded. “That means stuff is working like it should. A very good sign.”

  “You haven’t gone to see her yet?” she asked.

  “Not yet. Maybe once I’m well enough to pee on my own, I’ll go. I’m trying to hold food down and not pull anything.”

  Sera grimaced. “You can’t pee on your own? Are you wearing a diaper?”

  “No, that would be dignified. I’m wired to a bag.”

  Sera searched the floor, then flinched at something at the foot of the bed. “Omigod! Is that what that pouch is for?” She backed away a few steps.

  I nodded, then moved on to a more important topic. “I’m glad you came.”

  “As if I’d stay home. I’m not that heartless.” She shifted her feet, fumbled in her pockets, but eventually got the ball rolling. “Look, I’m really sorry for the way I’ve been acting. I was hurt that you kept me out of the loop and I blew things up and I handled things badly.”

  “Yup,” I agreed. “But so did I. I’m sorry for not telling you about the donation, and for biting your head off all the time. It wasn’t about you. Life was stressful enough and I didn’t want to make things worse by getting you involved. I know you don’t like Alyssa dating your brother—”

  “You think Ryon’s the reason Alyssa and I can’t stand each other? Ryon?” She scoffed. “You never notice how she acts when I’m around? Her left eye gets all twitchy just seeing me stand next to you. That’s some jealous ex craziness, and you’re not even dating.” Nervous hands unraveled one of her braided pigtails. “She was your best friend. You guys have a history that I don’t even know about. And when I found out that you were gonna give her a kidney, it just added on to the whole thing. What if you guys become besties again and you get sucked into the Borg’s mainframe and turn into one of them? I mean, Alyssa’s tied to you for the rest of your life. You are literally a part of her. That’s deep—on a whole other level, man. I can’t compete with that.”

  It was comforting to know that I wasn’t the only insecure person in the room. “Why do you need to?” I asked. “I can have more than one friend. And what’s to say Alyssa and I are gonna be BFFs after this?”

  Pursing her lips, she tossed me a looked that said: Girl, please.

  “This is a life-changing event,” Sera argued. “And think about it: All movies end the same way. The oddball cop duo who fought all through the movie, ride off into the sunset together. Happily ever after. You and Alyssa are like the super duo.”

  And here I thought I watched too much TV. “Um, maybe,” I said, trying not to laugh. “But that still doesn’t mean I can’t have more than one friend,” I told her. “I can use as many as I can get right now.”

  Her face brightened. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I’m not allowed to lift anything over ten pounds for six weeks, so somebody’s gotta carry my books.” I gave her a cheeky grin.

  With a sardonic smile, she placed a hand over her heart. “Aw, so sweet.” She glanced around the monitors by my bed. “So which one of these buttons shuts off your oxygen?”

  We talked for about an hour before the nurse came in with more food. Sera sat with me while I ate. After my meal of mushy meat and potatoes, Ryon dropped by. He was all misty-eyed and blubbering. Sera had to calm him down.

  “Dude, get it together. You’re embarrassing everyone on the floor.” Sera handed him a box of tissues.

  “I’m sorry, I just …” Ryon blew his nose. “Janelle, I just don’t know how to thank you for what you’ve done.”

  “You just did. You’re good, man. There’s no need for the—oh boy! Here we go.” He swooped in for a bear hug that lasted longer than anyone was comfortable with. I patted the top of his head. “Okay, thanks. I’m feeling the love, really. It’s running all through me.”

  “Okay.” He pulled away, wiped his face on his shirtsleeve, then turned to Sera. “You ready to go?”

  “Are you?” she fired back. “I’ll gladly drive home and leave you here if you need to get checked.”

  After they left, I lay back in bed and settled into a peace I hadn’t felt in years. An overwhelming sense of accomplishment spiked my adrenaline. While I basked in the high, Sera’s potted plant caught my attention, its purple flowers sprouting from dirt.

  I didn’t know much about plants. The poor thing would probably die within a week. I considered giving it to Alyssa since she loved the color, but regifting a get-well/let’s-be-friends-again token was probably poor form. I thought about what Sera had said, about how movies ended. But the thing was, in movies, you never really saw what happened after “happily ever after.” You never saw the collateral damage and cleanup after the alien invasion. You never got to see if the hero suffered nightmares or battled trauma once the dust had cleared. It’s a shame, really. I would’ve appreciated the honesty.

  The next day, I passed all the basic requirements: I was able to keep food down, sit upright, walk on my own, and perform the necessary bathroom functions. I was allowed to go home the day after.

  Alyssa would spend a week at the hospital, as her condition was way worse than mine, but she was expected to make a full recovery. Ryon and other members of the Borg would keep her company, so I didn’t feel too guilty for leaving her there. My body craved a real bed, with all the comforts of home.

  Later in the evening, I was encouraged to stretch my legs and do some more walking. Not much ground could be covered on a walker with an IV stand, but I made it down the hallway and back.

  “You’re doing great, Janelle. Good job!” A nurse cheered and clapped. I almost expected a doggy treat for my efforts.

  I returned to my room, drained and wanting to pass out, but I didn’t want to turn in just yet. It was time for me to make a visitation.

  With the aid of the nurse and a wheelchair, I reached Alyssa’s room and tapped the door.

  “Come in.”

  The nurse rolled me inside and spoke to Alyssa in a goo-goo baby voice. “Hey there, sleepyhead! Guess who’s here to see you!”

  The nurse stood behind me so I couldn’t see her face, but Alyssa’s troubled expression said it all.

  “Uh, hey there.” Alyssa rolled her shoulders in a stretch and sat up on the bed. She had the worst case of bedhead I’d ever seen, but she looked well rested.

  The nurse turned to go. “I’m sure you got a lot of catching up to do, so I’ll leave you two to talk. Just page me and I’ll take you back to your room. Buh-bye now!”

  When she left, I rolled my wheelchair closer to her bed. “She is so weird!”

  “I know, right? She brought me food earlier and called it din-din.” Alyssa shuddered.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I’ve been run over twice. But the doctors say I’m at thirty-five percent kidney function. They think it’ll go up in a few weeks.”

  “That’s great.” I pointed to her arm. “You can get rid of that fistula thing.”

  “Maybe. It’s too soon to tell.” She shrugged.

  She didn’t seem as thrill
ed as I was. “Are you at least hopeful?”

  “I’m too scared to be,” she admitted. “I’m trying not to think about it too much. I have to take these antirejection pills for the rest of my life. Things might be good now, but the kidney might stop working out of nowhere and—”

  “Yeah, it’s best not to think about it too much,” I cut her off. “I don’t regret my decision and neither should you.”

  “But what if you do someday?” Alyssa asked. “What if a few months from now or even a year from now, the whole thing fails and you’re stuck with one kidney, and I’m back on the machine, back on the waiting list, waiting to live or die?”

  I offered a different scenario. “What if the kidney is so strong, it exceeds the doctors’ expectations and makes medical history and you live to be a grandmother? I’d be Dorothy and you’d be Blanche and we’ll be having the time of our lives in a retirement home in Florida. It’s possible, too.”

  She reached out her hands as far as she could. “Thank you.”

  Mindful of the tubes, I squeezed her fingers. “No problem.”

  “I mean for everything. For being there even when I push you away. For not listening to me when I say I’m okay and going above and beyond what a normal person would.”

  “If you start singing The Golden Girls theme song, I’m going back to my room.”

  A pillow sailed past my face at my remark. Alyssa dropped back onto the bed, sapped of what little strength she had.

  “Hey, watch out. You don’t wanna pull out any of those tubes.” I pointed to her taped arm and hand.

  “I’m being serious and heartfelt here,” Alyssa went on. “This is a rare event, so you sit right there and suck up the gratitude.” She pushed the hair out of her face. “I am grateful. I’m scared and confused, but I’m truly grateful, Janelle. I don’t know how to repay you.”