Lost Without You

by Rachael Johns

  Old fears raised their ugly heads.

  What if her son was angry and resentful at what she’d done? What if he didn’t want to be found? Could she handle a negative response? She’d always believed that it should be his decision to make contact, that she didn’t have the right to intrude on the relationship with his adoptive parents, but he was a grown man now and suddenly she wasn’t sure if she could spend the rest of her life—however long or short that may be—with the question mark hanging over her head.

  Of course it wasn’t just herself and her son she needed to think about. She swallowed at the memory of the promise she’d made her ex-boyfriend when he’d turned up all those years ago. Then there was also Paige and Hugh to consider. And her bloody kidneys. Even if she could handle her husband and daughter, she didn’t want her son to think her illness was the only reason she’d finally decided to seek him out.

  Yet, how else would it look?

  Perhaps she could request the information but not act on it until after she was well again. Of course there was no telling how long that would be. Since her nearest and dearest weren’t suitable donor candidates, who knew how many months—or even years—it would be until she could have a transplant.

  Would she be able to handle having the information at her fingertips and not act on it?

  Rebecca shot out her hand and pressed the button to lower the window. As fresh air gushed into the car she gasped at it, her head thumping with the enormity of this decision.

  Solomon’s car was already parked in the driveway when Rebecca returned to her house almost four hours later. Barely before she’d stopped, the front door burst open and Hugh, followed closely by Paige and Solomon, rushed towards her.

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ he demanded, flinging open her car door.

  ‘I told you,’ she said as she climbed out of the car and smiled at her daughter and future son-in-law who stood alongside her husband with identical expressions of concern on their faces, ‘I needed some me-time. I went for a drive and then a stroll along the beach.’

  Hugh pushed his glasses up his nose, something he always did when he was stressed. ‘I’ve been trying to call you for the last two hours. I’ve been worried sick. I—’ He sighed and then yanked her into his arms. ‘Thank God you’re okay.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, wrapping her arms around her husband, torn between guilt and irritation—she was a grown woman for heaven’s sake. ‘My phone must be on silent.’

  ‘If you go out again alone …’ Paige’s hands were on her hips. ‘Then you need to make sure you’re contactable. Two weeks ago you were coughing up blood and I know you don’t want to admit it, but you’re not in perfect health and we can’t help worrying about you. Dad and I had visions of you back in hospital and—’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Rebecca said again, extracting herself from Hugh’s embrace and giving Paige a hug. ‘But you don’t know what it’s like being stuck in that place, I felt like I was in prison and I just needed to—’

  ‘Are you wet, Mum?’ Paige interrupted, pulling back a little and frowning.

  ‘Not really,’ Rebecca replied, but suddenly she realised her clothes were a little damp. She shivered involuntarily. That’d be from the stroll she took along the beach. After the bank she’d driven to Bronte, meaning only to sit and think a few minutes but the car had felt as claustrophobic as the hospital. She’d carried her shoes as she walked along the beach and when she hadn’t been concentrating a wave had surprised her, splashing water up onto her clothes. The heater in the car hadn’t quite had time to dry her off yet.

  ‘Let’s get her inside in the warmth,’ Solomon said, smiling at Rebecca as if he understood that Hugh and Paige’s stressing was annoying.

  ‘Yes, good idea.’ She smiled her appreciation as she started up the path. She heard Hugh slam the car door shut and she stopped, closing her eyes in frustration. In all their upset, she’d left her bag in the car. Or maybe it was just her not thinking properly.

  ‘I’ve got to get my bag,’ she said, turning back towards the car again.

  Hugh held it up, along with her car keys. ‘I’ve got them. You get inside like Sol said. The heater’s on and dinner’s ready.’

  ‘Although we might have to heat it up again,’ Paige said, disapproval clear in her voice.

  As her family ushered her into the house, Rebecca was immediately hit with the usually alluring aromas of Indian cuisine from her favourite local restaurant and while she appreciated the sentiment, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stomach even a mouthful.

  ‘I’m going to have a shower and get into some dry clothes. I’ll be quick,’ she said and then escaped upstairs to her bedroom before anyone could object or grill her again.

  She took the notebook back out of her handbag and returned it to the box on the shelf, not that it held anything of value anymore. Perhaps she should throw it out. Perhaps she should throw away the whole damn box. Why she’d held onto those tapes all these years she had no idea. Not only did she no longer have a device to play them on, but if those particular songs came on the radio now, she always switched stations. The songs that had punctuated her first love now only made her heart ache—like broken promises, they were just words and she didn’t need the feelings they evoked.

  Vowing to get rid of the tapes later, she had the quickest shower of her life, threw on an old tracksuit and went out to face her family.

  The table already laid, Hugh was pouring water for everyone—wine off the agenda thanks to her kidneys—and Paige and Sol were busy opening the lids of the various containers.

  ‘It looks like you bought one of everything on the menu,’ Rebecca mused.

  Sol winked at her. ‘Two of some things. We know how much you love onion badjis.’

  ‘And we know how much you didn’t love the hospital food,’ added Paige as they sat.

  ‘Thank you.’ Rebecca smiled around the table at her three favourite people. ‘It’s so good to be home.’

  They all beamed back at her.

  ‘Eat up,’ Hugh said, reaching over and patting her hand.

  Still not hungry, in fact very queasy in her stomach, Rebecca put as little food on her plate as she thought she could get away with.

  As the men piled their plates high, Paige launched straight into conversation. ‘Mum, we’ve got two exciting bits of news.’

  ‘Oh, wonderful.’ Rebecca picked up her fork; she could at least pretend to eat.

  ‘We’ve set a date!’

  For a moment Rebecca had no idea what Paige was talking about. Her blank expression must have given this away for Paige added, ‘For our wedding.’

  ‘Oh, wonderful,’ she said again, beginning to wonder if she’d misplaced all the other words in her vocabulary. She forced herself to smile brightly—this was wonderful news. ‘What is it? When?’

  ‘October thirteenth, almost three months exactly.’

  ‘Isn’t the thirteenth bad luck?’ Hugh asked, before shoving another forkful of his favourite beef jalfrezi into his mouth.

  Paige rolled her eyes. ‘Since when have we believed in stuff like that?’

  ‘True.’ Hugh continued eating.

  ‘Well, we’ve got lots to organise,’ Rebecca said. ‘Where are you going to have the ceremony? And the reception? It’s short notice but I’m sure we’ll come up with something.’

  ‘We’re gonna get married on the beach and Lisette and Randy have agreed to let us have the reception in their backyard.’

  ‘I’m not sure agreed is quite the right word. Mum’s ecstatic about it. She wanted to call a family meeting immediately to start talking about the catering, the music, decorations etc but we thought you might be too tired tonight. We’ll have you all round to lunch soon to discuss everything.’

  ‘Wonderful.’ Rebecca cringed at her use of that word again.

  As she continued pushing her food around her plate, Paige and Sol talked wedding prep. Rebecca tried to make the right noises in the right pla
ces, but she was finding it almost impossible to focus. Leaving the photo behind in that safe deposit box had felt a little like abandoning her son all over again and she was struggling to hold it together.

  ‘You alright, sweetheart?’ Hugh asked during a rare pause in Paige’s wedding soliloquy.

  ‘Yes.’ She tried to offer him a reassuring smile. ‘I’m more than alright. I’m very excited. Taking it all in. Just a wee bit tired.’ May as well milk the damn disease for something.

  ‘We’ll make sure you have an early night,’ he said.

  ‘Speaking of tiredness,’ Paige began, sharing a knowing smile with Solomon before looking back to Rebecca, ‘that brings us to our second bit of news.’

  ‘Oh my god! You’re pregnant!’ Rebecca shrieked, her hand rushing to cover her mouth and her heart jumping as if it had been injected with adrenaline. How many more surprises—good or bad—could she take?

  ‘God, no.’ Paige gave Solomon a look of horror and he laughed. ‘I’m only twenty-seven, Mum.’

  ‘I’d had … you by that age.’ Her chest squeezed, she’d almost said ‘two babies by that age’—what a can of worms that would have opened.

  ‘Well, anyway.’ Paige clearly wasn’t going to even discuss the possibility of motherhood. ‘What I was trying to say is …’ She paused and looked to Sol. ‘Actually, maybe you should tell her.’

  He cleared his throat. ‘I’m not the same blood type as you, Rebecca, but Paige and I have been looking into the paired kidney exchange program that Dr Chopra mentioned. I’m willing to be your donor, to go on the program and give my kidney to another recipient who has a donor that is your match.’

  Rebecca gasped and the tears she’d been fighting since arriving home conquered her.

  ‘Oh, Mum.’ Paige pushed back her chair and rushed out of the room.

  ‘Geez,’ Hugh said, his tone awed. ‘Wow, Solomon. That’s … that’s …’ Her husband seemed to be at an unusual loss for words and although there were lots of words swimming around her head, she couldn’t speak past her flood of emotion.

  Solomon bit his thick lower lip as if unsure what to say or do.

  Paige returned to the room carrying a box of tissues. She pulled out the empty chair beside Rebecca, sat and shoved the box under her nose.

  ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ she gushed. ‘Isn’t he wonderful?’

  At least Rebecca wasn’t the only one stuck on the ‘W’ word, she thought as she dabbed at her eyes with the tissue and tried to rein in her tears. But the word ‘wonderful’ didn’t seem nearly huge enough to describe what Solomon was offering to do.

  It was an answer to her prayers.

  Dr Chopra had said if she had to go on the deceased donor list, she might be waiting up to four years for a transplant. She wasn’t sure how long the wait list was on the exchange program but it had to be better than that.

  ‘Mum, say something,’ Paige ordered.

  At the excited expectation in her daughter’s voice, Rebecca blinked out of her bubble and her heart sank.

  Paige and Sol were holding hands across the table—the love, friendship and respect between them as obvious as if it were a physical thing they were clasping onto. What if something happened to him down the track and his leftover kidney failed him? She’d never forgive herself. And how would Paige feel about her then? Sol might be healthy today, but then so was she a month ago and now she needed to rely on dialysis or a selfless offering from someone else to secure her future. Nothing was certain.

  A selfish part of her wanted to consider this generous gift but could she risk allowing the centre of her daughter’s world to sacrifice one of his organs for her?

  ‘Thank you, Solomon.’ Her words came out as a whisper, she was so overcome with emotion. She took a quick breath. ‘I can’t thank you enough for even considering this, but … you’re so young and I’m not sure I’d feel right about accepting until we’ve exhausted all other options.’

  ‘What options, Mum?’ Paige asked, yanking her hand from his and throwing it up in the air.

  ‘Well …’ The last few days Rebecca had been supposed to be thinking about possible friends and family she might approach, but her mind had mostly been elsewhere. A quick survey of hers and Hugh’s family had determined that her father was the only known family member with a compatible blood type, but he was eighty and not in good health himself. Hugh’s sisters—she could tell—had been relieved they weren’t compatible and neither of their husbands had offered to be tested.

  ‘See, Mum,’ Paige said after a few long moments of silence. ‘This is the best option. Sol’s young, fit, healthy and willing. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.’

  ‘But what if Solomon gets sick?’ Rebecca looked her daughter right in the eye as she spoke. ‘What if I take his kidney and then one day his other kidney fails and he needs a transplant? What if you have kids and I’m responsible for taking their father? How will you feel then?’

  Paige blinked as if this thought hadn’t crossed her mind, which was probably the case—she’d always been a little impulsive.

  Solomon cleared his throat. ‘May I say something?’

  Rebecca and Paige nodded.

  ‘I appreciate your concern regarding my health, but this isn’t a decision I’ve made lightly. I’ve done some research of my own and if on the off-chance I develop a disease that means I need a kidney transplant myself, because I’ve been a living kidney donor I’ll be given priority status on the deceased donor list.’

  Paige smiled victoriously. ‘There you go.’

  ‘But,’ Solomon continued, ‘even if that wasn’t the case, it’s a risk I’m prepared to take. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing that I could have done something to improve your quality of life and didn’t. So fine, take your time to think, but don’t decline my offer because you’re worried about the future. If there’s one thing I know is certain about life, it’s the uncertainty of the future, which is why I prefer to live for today.’

  ‘That’s very true,’ Hugh said, putting his fork down on his plate as if he too, with all the talk of kidneys, had lost his appetite. ‘What do you think, Rebecca?’

  Paige and Sol joined him in looking expectantly at her.

  ‘I thank you for the offer and I promise I’ll give it some serious thought.’

  Josie

  What’s the point in doing this?

  This question was on replay inside Josie’s head as she dragged her feet down the leafy tree-lined Surry Hills street towards Life After Loss.

  All the talking in the world wasn’t going to fix anything. Nothing could bring her babies to life. And, even though she’d had no mojo to do anything much lately, she could suddenly think of a bazillion things she could be doing instead on the last Thursday of her school holidays. Her hand flickered to her bag, her head and fingers craving the relief of a cigarette, but then she remembered she didn’t have any. She’d promised Nik no more smoking, only to drink if they were together and that she’d give this talking-to-someone bizzo a red-hot go.

  Dammit. She kicked her foot against the footpath and then suddenly realised she’d arrived at her destination.

  Like all the other offices on this street, the charity was located in a beautifully renovated old terrace house. The building looked innocuous enough, there were large leafy pot plants in the small courtyard out the front and the windows had lovely white shutters. How could a not-for-profit afford such a property? Perhaps a government grant or a bequest from someone they’d helped? Paige shook her head—what did it matter where the money came from? She was just dithering. With a deep breath, she pushed that procrastination aside, forced one foot in front of the other and headed for the front door.

  If this was pointless as she suspected it would be, then she didn’t have to come back but at least she could tell Nik she’d tried. The door creaked a little as she pushed it open and a middle-aged woman looked up from behind a reception desk and smiled. ‘Good morning.’

&nbs
p; ‘Hi.’ Josie swallowed. ‘I’m Josie Mitreski. I’m meeting Clara Jones here.’

  ‘Wonderful. Clara won’t be a moment. Would you like to take a seat while you wait? And can I make you a coffee or something?’

  Josie politely refused the drink, then retreated to the small waiting area and settled in a seat. She felt as if there were a circus of butterflies practising acrobatics in her stomach and hoped she didn’t have to wait long or she might chicken out and flee.

  ‘Josephine Mitreski?’

  She startled at the call of her name, having not even noticed a woman appear at the edge of the waiting room, and stumbled to her feet. The tall, slim woman who had a slightly wavy, shoulder-length, golden bob smiled warmly at her. ‘I’m Clara,’ she said as she offered her hand. ‘It’s lovely to meet you. Come on through.’

  A vision of the man who’d given her the business card appeared in Josie’s head as she followed Clara down a short corridor; it was almost impossible to reconcile him and this woman as being married. She wore smart black trousers and a blue twin-set, with a string of simple pearls around her neck, whereas her husband with his long hair tied back scruffily had looked like a burned-out rock star.

  ‘Take a seat,’ Clara said as they emerged into a bright yellow room with three plush armchairs and generic paintings of beaches and bridges on the walls. Josie wondered if they were chosen because they were two things that could not possibly upset or offend anyone.

  ‘Thanks.’ She perched herself on the edge of one of the chairs.

  ‘Can I get a you a drink?’ Clara asked, closing the door behind her. ‘We have coffee, tea and hot chocolate, or are you more of a soft drink girl? I’ve got a few Diet Cokes I keep aside just in case.’

  Josie’s mouth watered at the mention of her favourite drink—during her pregnancies she’d abstained from Diet Coke, not that it had done any good—and she’d got out of the habit of drinking it. ‘I’d love a Diet Coke, thanks.’

  ‘Excellent. You get comfortable.’ Clara smiled again and then turned to a small fridge in the corner of the room. She retrieved two glasses and two cans of Diet Coke, then put them down on the table between them.