Sharp Left Turn

by Faye Byrd

  David breaks into my reverie. “Easy, I think under the circumstances, we can contact the clinic and get the necessary information.”

  I sigh. “But, David, whoever donated did it anonymously for a reason. They didn’t want to be acknowledged or contacted as a father. They got paid money and left some sperm, with the agreement that the receiver would never know who they were or ask anything of them.”

  “Easy,” Kabir breaks in softly. “Everything you just said is true, but is that more important than your son getting well? Maybe he already has a half-sibling out there who has the chance to cure him.”

  “Think of the possibilities, Easy. It may be Cam’s only chance,” David adds.

  As I consider what they’re saying, an unexpected thought worms its way into my brain. I chew on my lip as I wonder if I should even bring it up. A sibling, especially a same parent sibling, is the best chance Cam has at finding a match.

  I clear my throat, unsure myself if this is the right path to take but unwilling to let it go undiscussed. “I, uh … I purchased all available sperm from the donor after I conceived with Cameron.” David’s jaw drops open, but I shake my head to let him know I’m not done. “I actually have my first insemination appointment next month.”

  Both men are now staring at me with varying expressions. While clearly shocked at the turn the conversation has taken, at least one of them is intrigued by the idea. Kabir’s eyes go from the cloudiness of confusion to sparking with interest relatively quickly.

  But before he can encourage my wayward thoughts, David beats him to the punch with his usual cautious manner. “Easy,” he says gently, as if he fears I’ll crumble. “While I understand a mother’s instinct to protect her young, having a baby hoping it will provide a cure for an already sick sibling is not the ideal solution.”

  “But that’s my point,” I reply almost immediately, since my mind is becoming more convinced with each second that passes. “My second child, with the same donor, has already been planned. Had Cameron’s condition been extreme, with no possible benefit from a sibling, I may have put it off, but with my child’s life hanging in the balance, I will move forward. My decision has been made.”

  “You do understand that this is considered controversial?” Kabir speaks on the matter for the first time. “I want you to take a few days and think it over carefully before making a final decision.”

  I want to charge ahead and assure them that I won’t be changing my mind, but any decision worth making deserves a second look. “I’ll give myself two days to consider the options.”

  “That’s all I can ask,” David says with a smile. “Now, I want every single family member you can get in touch with down here to be tested. I’ll set it up where they can come straight to the outpatient department at MUMC.” He reaches over and grasps my hand. “Easy, Dr. Sen and I are going to do everything in our power to have Cam well again.”

  The relief I feel at having David on my side is palpable. Both as Cam’s doctor and someone who cares about him deeply. He and Charlotte are like Cam’s second set of grandparents, so I know he’ll never give up. He’ll fight beside me every step of the way.

  I allow the tears I’ve been holding to come, but only a few. They’re tears of relief. Tears of hope. Tears of chance. There is a cure. My baby has a chance, and I’ll cling to it until every lead has been exhausted.

  “Thank you, David.” I turn to Dr. Sen. “And you, Kabir. You’ve given me hope, and that’s just what I needed after the events of today.” I sniffle.

  Kabir stands and hands me a tissue. “You’re welcome, Easy. We have a tough road ahead, but I’m confident we can beat this. I’m going to get a nurse to come draw you and your family’s blood right away.”

  I wipe my face and stand, holding out my hand for Kabir to shake. “Nice to have you on board, Dr. Sen.”

  He smiles the first genuine smile I’ve seen all day. “Nice to be on board. I’ll come by Cam’s room after he’s been admitted.”

  David and I leave Dr. Sen’s office together, the conversation weighing heavily between us. Though the news was devastating, the prospect of hope is the only emotion I’ll allow to circulate through me. There is a cure, and finding a donor is only a formality in my mind.

  “Easy,” David says softly, breaking the silence between us. “I understand your need to be positive, and I admire it greatly, but I want you to recognize that this is going to be a tough battle. Cameron has a long road ahead.”

  I stay silent and absorb his words, my eyes falling to my heels as they click along the tile hallway. The steady beat helps to center me as my mind works to form a response. “Seeing my baby so weak hurts; it hurts deeply, but knowing there’s an end, a stopping point to his pain?” I look to David, begging him to understand. “It means everything to me. That’s the only place I can allow myself to focus, my mind will not accept another outcome.”

  He nods and slips a comforting arm across my shoulder, tugging me in for a side-hug. “I understand. I just want to make sure you’re not burying everything. I’m here anytime you need me. We all are, but you already know that.”

  Giving him a soft smile, I lay my head against his shoulder as we make the turn that will take me back to my boy. Only we’re both brought up short by the small crowd just outside the door. Charlotte, Mom, Dad and Weston are all in a huddle, talking quietly amongst themselves.

  “My, what a gathering,” David says as we approach the large group.

  Weston, who’s always been overly emotional, basically snatches me from David’s grasp so he can offer his own hug. His voice is on the verge of tears as he speaks. “Cam looks so heartbreaking lying in there. Ryder and I came as soon as we heard.” He pulls away and holds me at arms-length. “What can we do to help?”

  “Actually, there is something,” I say, hooking my arm around his side and turning us to face the rest of the group. “All of you. If you could follow me inside, I’ll ask David to explain.”

  As we enter Cam’s room, two more faces greet me. Ryder, who I expected, but the other is a welcome surprise. Amelia is perched on the edge of Cam’s bed, brushing her fingers through his hair. She gets up and rushes toward me with wet cheeks, while Weston does practically the same to Ryder.

  “Oh, Easy,” she says, wrapping her arms around me and breaking down once her face is securely buried in my neck. I hold her and let her cry, careful not to allow myself to be dragged into the darkness.

  Brushing my hand down her hair, I work to soothe her. “Shh, it’s going to be okay. We know what Cam’s facing, and we have a plan of action.”

  She sniffles and unwinds her arms from my neck. “Really?”

  “It’s not going to be easy, but there is a cure,” I say quietly, wanting everyone to be filled in at once. “Let’s listen as David explains it.”

  She gives me a barely-there nod and loops her arm at my waist as we face the rest of the room. I take a moment to glance at my baby as he sleeps peacefully. A tiny crack forms in my heart, but I don’t allow it to spread. This is only the beginning of our journey, and I can’t allow any weaknesses to form.

  “David, if you don’t mind explaining?” I prod, waving my hand for him to speak.

  “Of course,” he replies as Charlotte walks over and grasps my free hand tightly.

  The room falls silent, aside from Weston’s sniffles, as everyone learns of Cam’s prognosis.

  5 SHARP LEFT TURN

  Easy

  Two days later, I’m at Cam’s bedside while he watches Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on Disney Channel. Hearing his laughter and seeing his smile makes my whole day worth it. He’s still tired and napping more than usual, but at least he’s my smiling, happy boy when he’s awake.

  The transfusion worked just as David and Kabir suggested. It was only hours after when Cam’s coloring started to return. My friends and family were heartbroken over the news David shared, but like me, they have full confidence that this is just a stumbling block. Everyone who was waitin
g when we returned gave a sample for testing. They’re a dedicated bunch, and I feel blessed to know them.

  Dr. Sen is a driven man who’s made Cam a big priority in his caseload. He comes by several times a day, monitoring his condition and ordering tests to catalog his cell counts. I can’t express how grateful I am to have two men as devoted to Cam’s care as he and David are.

  Voices from the hallway break into my thoughts just as two figures enter Cam’s room. “Hey, David. Amelia, what are you doing here?” I ask the latter as I get up to hug them both.

  David speaks up, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. “I called and asked her to come. We need to go down to Kabir’s office and talk.”

  “Um, okay. Is it about our blood work?” A ripple of fear runs down my spine. David calling someone to come here puts me on alert.

  He gives a slight nod. “Yes, we have the results.”

  Understanding overcomes me. None of us were matches. It’s written as clear as day in his expression and by the avoidance of eye contact. “We weren’t matches, were we?”

  “Easy, this is something we need to discuss”—he glances at Amelia and lowers his voice—“alone.”

  His reaction worries me, so I consent to his wishes by walking over to Cam and giving him kisses. “Mama’s going to talk to Dr. Logan for a minute. Aunt Amelia is going to sit with you. Is that okay?”

  His eyes are glued to the TV, but as I speak, he turns and notices our guest. “Aunt Amelia, you come see me?”

  She steps over and slides up beside him on the bed. “I sure did. What are we watching?’

  I give him one final kiss on the forehead and leave him to catch Amelia up on what’s happening in his current cartoon.

  Following David down the hall doesn’t bring the same type of dread as last time. He’s reacting somewhat out of character, but I understand what he’ll want. My mind is already settling into acceptance. Acceptance that I may have to do something I never imagined. Find the man who donated his sperm. No matter my intentions with creating a new life, if there’s a child out there now that can help my son, I need to know.

  David leads me to Kabir’s offices, just like last time. But surprisingly, the other doctor isn’t present. He motions to a chair and takes the one beside it, turning it to face me. Grabbing both my hands, he looks me directly in the eyes. What I see in his steals my breath. It’s not just disappointment, it’s sorrow.

  Deep, heart-wrenching sorrow.

  Frown lines form on my head, as I can’t imagine the test results bringing about this type of pain. “David, what is it? Is there something new on Cam? Are his new test results worse? Is he not even eligible for the transplant now?” I’m rambling like a mad woman, but I need his answers. The dread coming from him brings about my own.

  He squeezes my hands tighter. “Easy, no. It’s none of that. Cam is still eligible for the transplant.” I sag in relief. “But, there’s something else. Something I don’t even know how to articulate.”

  “I don’t understand. If Cam’s not worse, then why are you looking at me this way? Please, David, what is it?” I implore.

  He takes a deep breath and starts rambling. “The blood you and your family donated. They performed HLA molecular typing tests. They’re DNA based, Easy. I don’t know how this is even possible. I even went to the lab personally and made them retest. I saw the results myself, but I just don’t know how it’s possible.”

  I give his hands a jerk to bring him out of his mumblings. “David,” I say loudly to gain his full attention. “I don’t understand what you’re rambling about. What results did you see for yourself?” I grip his hands tighter. “Please.”

  He pulls his hands back and places one on each of my cheeks. He looks directly into my eyes, wetness already filling his. “Easy, Cameron’s not your son.”

  I tilt my head as I repeat the words to myself.

  Not my son?

  That’s not possible. I carried him for nine months, of course he’s mine. I reach up and place my hand on his forehead. “Are you sure you’re not coming down with something?”

  He moves his head out of my reach and drops his hands to his lap, his eyes follow. “No, Easy, there’s nothing wrong with me.” He looks back to me. “Cameron is not your son.”

  I recoil as if I’ve been slapped. “What the fuck do you mean, he’s not my son.” My words are harsh and cold, but I don’t know any other way to be.

  He stands and starts pacing in the small space available. His movements are frantic, almost crazed. He stops and turns to me. “I don’t know what I mean, well I do, but I don’t know how! The test, Easy! Your DNA is not a match to Cameron. At all.”

  I think he’s finally flipped. Working with someone he cares about so much has made him lose his mind. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize working on Cam’s case would affect you like this. You’re stressed to the point that you’re talking nonsense.” I stand and walk over to him, hoping to bring him some calm. “It’s okay. I understand if you need to hand his case over to Dr. Sen. I won’t be mad, I promise. I know I said I wou—”

  He grabs my arms, giving me a little shake. “No, Easy. Cameron. Is. Not. Your. Son. Period!” he says into my face, enunciating every single word clearly.

  Realizing what he’s done, he releases his grip and turns to pace again, only this time I stop him in his place. “How could you say something like that? How could you be so sick and twisted?” I start for the door. I’m done. Done with this bullshit conversation and done with being away from my son.

  He grabs my arm, stopping my progress. “Stop it! Just stop it and listen to me, Easy.” Then in a softer voice. “Please.”

  I turn and cross my arms. “I don’t know if there’s anything you can say to make this better, David. You’ve completely lost all my trust. And I can’t understand why you’d even do it.”

  “Because it’s the truth,” he says forcefully.

  Scrubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a small growl. Then he takes my hand and leads me to my chair once more. He reaches over on Kabir’s desk and retrieves a file. Opening it, he finds exactly what he’s looking for and places it in my hands. He then sits and pulls his chair over beside mine.

  Pointing to the paper in front of us, he starts explaining what it says. “Do you see this right here? This is your DNA code compared to Cam’s.” His finger slides over to the words opposite the comparison. “See this right here? Read what that says.”

  I follow his finger across the page and focus on the words displayed there. No, it can’t be. “That’s not possible, David.”

  He sighs and grabs my hand. “Easy, I understand what you mean, but this test is correct. I personally oversaw the retest results. Somehow, someway, that boy you’ve raised isn’t yours.”

  My body retreats from his words, drawing in on itself and crumpling into a tiny ball of nothingness. My mind races with ways to deny. Deny his words. Deny the notion. Deny this could possibly be happening. But it’s there in plain words on the page. No DNA match. Somehow, the impossible has become possible.

  The nothingness begins to expand. It swells and explodes into a fire. A fire that overtakes my entire being. When I can contain it no more, I explode. I snatch my hands away and stand tall. “That test is wrong! You need to redo it! Again and again, until it’s right!”

  David stands and comes over, approaching slowly and carefully. He takes me in his arms, and I break. I break for the mother in me whose son is no longer hers. I break for the son I love, who doesn’t belong to me. I break for the boy out there somewhere that I did carry, wondering where he is and how this happened.

  I cry, and I yell, and I beg.

  I beg that it isn’t true.

  All the while knowing that it is.

  The rage starts to build.

  My fists start pummeling. They pummel and rage against a man who holds no fault but was the one to tear my world apart. To break my very existence. He’s ripped me in two. Two halves that might never again be wh
ole. One half aching for the son she’s raised. The other aching for the son she’s never met.

  “Why, David, why!” I scream into his chest, between howls of pain. He hugs me tighter. “How could this be happening? What did I do to deserve this? What?” But then a thought bigger than myself hits me. I pull back and collect myself as much as I can. “What about Cam? What is this going to do to him?”

  The tenderness in his eyes is more than I can bear. He wipes my face and pushes my tear soaked hair behind my ears. “Easy, listen to me. This isn’t going to affect Cam. We won’t let it. He’s still going to need you. You must be strong. We have to find out what happened and how it happened, but in the end, you’ve raised Cam, and he’ll always be yours.” He sighs, but his eyes spark with optimism. “But there’s another little boy out there somewhere that you carried for nine months. Don’t you want to meet him? Make sure he’s happy and well taken care of?”

  “I’m scared, David.” I sniffle.

  “I know you are, sweetie. Hell, I’m scared and it isn’t even happening to me. For now, we’re going to do everything in our power to find that donor for Cam. And that includes finding his biological family. His best chance may be out there right now, a sibling already born.”

  With his words come acceptance. Acceptance that I need to do whatever it takes to save my little boy. My amazingly, sick three-year-old boy.

  “What do I do? Where do we start?”

  He releases me and begins to pace the floor. “We could contact the Atlanta Police Department, but since your father works for the MIU, I’d suggest calling him. What position does Harold hold now?”

  The talk of police makes everything seem just a bit more surreal. I swallow my nervousness. “He’s Agent in Charge of the Special Investigation Unit.”