by Wilde, Ora
“Would I volunteer myself if I wasn’t?” I asked back. Sometimes, even professionals say the stupidest things.
“Good, good... it’s settled then,” the doctor responded. “If you would come with me, please? We can do the testing.”
I stood up to follow him. But before I could take a step, I grabbed Phoebe’s arm. I dragged her with me. He looked at me with surprise. I didn’t say a word. I wanted company. I was afraid of needles, and she had a way of making me laugh. I wished she’d be able to take my mind off the procedures they would do to me.
The doctor led us to the second floor, where the blood chemistry lab was located. Just as I feared, a nurse came over to punch a needle through the skin on my right arm. I gripped Phoebe’s hand as tightly as I could.
It’s just like a bite ant, the nurse said.
Bite ant my ass! I’d remember that sting for a long, long time.
The nurse brought the blood sample she took back to the closed doors of the lab. We were asked to wait for a few minutes.
“Why did you bring me with you?” Phoebe asked, still with an angry tone. She hasn’t gotten over the discussion we had earlier.
I wasn’t in the mood for witty banter, so I just told her the truth.
“You make me feel stronger,” I told her.
Her response was baffled silence, followed by a repressed smile.
“Afraid of needles, huh?” she queried.
“Not afraid. Just... uncomfortable.”
“Uhm... aren’t they going to something worse once they take out your kidney?”
Fuck! I haven’t even thought about that.
And what’s wrong with her? She was supposed to provide me with comfort and moral support.
Five or so minutes have passed when the nurse went out and conferred with the doctor. The doctor then walked towards us.
“Your blood’s not the same as the patient’s,” he said.
“That’s weird,” I replied. “Shouldn’t we have the same blood type? Please don’t tell me there has been a mistake because I don’t want to go through that needle thing again.”
“It’s not uncommon for father and child to have different blood types,” the doctor explained. “Often, the child gets the mother’s blood type.”
“Please spare me the unnecessary information. Just tell me what will happen next. Can I donate my kidney or not?”
“Well, thankfully, your blood type is O, and your father is an A. We have a compatible match.”
“Alright. So... let’s not waste anymore time. Will you be putting me to sleep during the operation?”
“Yes, we will... but we’ll get to that. There’s one more compatibility factor that I have to check...”
He studied the results that were fastened to a folder he was carrying. His fingers moved quickly through each and every page, and his eyes kept pace.
But then, while on the third paper, his finger stopped. He gave the document a closer look. Wrinkles formed on his forehead and his mouth spiraled into a twisted line.
“This... this can’t be...” he mumbled.
“What? What’s wrong?” I asked, curious about what caused the doctor’s sudden perturbation.
He looked at me before returning his gaze on the results.
“Your... your HLA antigens don’t match at all,” he finally said. “Your tissues are not compatible.”
“Is that an issue?”
“Yes! It means that your father won’t be able to use the organ you’re willing to donate.”
I was stunned beyond belief. There I was, with my first major act of benevolence towards my father, and the doctor had to tell me that it would just be useless?
“This is impossible,” he mumbled to himself, completely oblivious that we could hear his every word. “Parent and child... it should be at least a fifty percent compatibility...”
I felt Phoebe’s fingers slither around my wrist, egging me to go with her, inviting me to take a seat so that I could relax. I yanked my arm away from her touch and confronted the doctor.
“What does this mean?” I asked him angrily. “Answer me! What does this mean?”
“I... I don’t know...” was his beleaguered reply.
I grabbed the edge of his coat and pulled him near me. I continued to scream at his face, loud enough for the other doctors and nurses to hear, loud enough for them to intervene and haul me away from him.
“Tell me I can help!” I yelled. “Tell me that there’s another option! Tell me that I’m good for something else!”
“Hayden, please, calm down,” Phoebe begged. I didn’t listen to her.
“Tell me!” I continued to shout at him. “Tell me I can save my father!”
Chapter 40
PHOEBE
“Did he wake up after the procedure?” I asked the nurse on duty.
“Only once, but he quickly fell back to sleep,” she answered as she checked his vitals on the machine that was hanging over the bedrest.
I caressed his forehead and fixed his hair. He’s been through a rough night. An emotional rollercoaster. And an operation that removed a vital part of his body.
After filling up several pages of questions - many of which he asked me to answer for him - he was subjected to a battery of tests that lasted through the wee hours of the morning. Once the results were released, the attending doctors were convinced that Hayden was a healthy donor, and that his kidney posed no issue to the prospective donee.
One of the hospital’s officers made a series of phone calls. He asked my mom to accompany him. They were looking for an open organ exchange program, where Hayden’s kidney would be offered to another patient it was compatible with. The kidney that’s supposed to be donated to that patient will then be offered to us, provided that it will be compatible with Bill’s body. It was a long shot, the officer said, but it was worth a try.
Thankfully, they found a prospect in Las Vegas. Martha offered the company’s private jet to deliver Hayden’s kidney and pick up the organ that was meant for Bill.
Bill’s kidney transplant was finally started at around eight the next morning. We were still awaiting word about how it went.
I looked at Hayden. He was sound asleep. There was no trace of pain on his handsome face. He was sedated before the procedure started. He still doesn’t know what has happened and how things went.
I touched his cheek. He did a brave thing... something which I didn’t expect he would do.
He became hysterical when the doctor told him that his kidney wasn’t a match for his father. He got so mad that the people around us had to restrain him. There must be a way, he said repeatedly, firmly at first, but whimpering later on when the weight of helplessness began to crush his heart.
Hayden flinched a little just as I began to run my fingers across his chin.
Then he opened his eyes, strugglingly. It took him a few seconds before he recognized who I was.
“P-Phoebe?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m here,” I answered as I held his hand.
“W-Where am... ouch...” he groaned as the pain above his ribs on the left side of his body became manifest. He probably didn’t even remember that a kidney of his was removed.
“Relax, Hayden,” I told him. “Don’t move too much. You might open up the incision they just stitched.”
“Incision? Oh... shit!” He finally realized what has happened. “That’s right. H-How was it?”
“It went well,” I enthused. “There are no complications. You should recover in just a few days, they said, though you’d feel a little weak for about a week or two. They did ask about the bruises on your body, though.”
“What bruises?” he questioned, confused. “Oh, right! From the fight with those two dolts...”
“I just told them that you fell from the stairs.”
“They bought that lame excuse?”
“You’d be surprised.”
He started to chuckle, but the wound began to throb that his laugh ended abrup
tly. He wanted to feel the area where he was cut, but I immediately grabbed his hand and prevented him from doing so.
“I told you, you might just open it up,” I said.
“But it’s itchy,” he reasoned out.
“Well, bear it. At least you’d have one kind of itch that you’d manage not to scratch.”
“Oooohhh... touché.”
He tried to move towards his side, hoping that he’d find a better position. I assisted him. But as soon as his body turned, he went back to face me with a look of concern on his face.
“H-How’s my father?” he asked worriedly, remembering what his entire ordeal was for.
“He’s... well... we still don’t know yet.”
“What do you mean we don’t know?”
“His operation is ongoing. They started at eight, and the doctor said that it’ll take three hours at least. We’re still awaiting word from...”
“Oh fuck that!” he yelled as he tried to stand up, tripping the wires that were monitoring his vitals. An alarm rang, and the nurses were quick to arrive.
“What are you doing, Hayden? Don’t get up. You’re not fit to get up.” I tried to stop him but he wouldn’t listen.
“Mr. Summersmith, please calm down,” one of the nurses said as the others held his arms and pulled him back to his bed.
“No, no... I have to see my father!” Hayden defiantly yelled as he resisted the nurses’ attempt of controlling him. But he was too weak, and eventually, he stopped struggling and the nurses were able to pacify him.
“I... I have to see my father...” he repeated, weakly. “Phoebe... I have to see my father...” he continued as his hand reached for mine.
“I’ll go check with the doctors if his operation’s finished,” I assured him. “But you will have to promise me to behave here, Hayden. Don’t pull a stunt like that again, okay?”
He just nodded with a defeated look on his face.
“Okay then,” I said. “Wait for me here.”
“Phoebe?” he called my attention just as I was about to leave.
I turned back to look at him. There was something about his face... something completely different from the overbearing and presumptuous young man I have come to know. He looked so lost... so forlorn... so anguished...
So desperate.
“Can you...” he continued to say. “Can you... look for someone named Heidi at the nurse’s station in the third floor?”
“Heidi? Why?”
“I left her my valuables just before they brought me to the operating room.”
“Oh... okay. I’ll pass by the third floor then. Should I get your things from her?”
“No need. Just... Just ask her to bring them over.”
“Alright then. See you later, Hayden.”
As I exited his room, I couldn’t help but think how humble he seemed at that moment. And the concern he displayed for his father was very, very admirable.
Maybe, Dr. Scott was right.
Maybe, there’s a different kind of person beneath the exterior of arrogance and pompousness he had built around himself.
Maybe...
Maybe...
Maybe that was the real Hayden who I just witnessed.
Chapter 41
HAYDEN
“H-How will I get paid?” Heidi asked as she nervously looked behind her, checking if someone was suddenly eavesdropping on our conversation. She was around thirty years of age, a mother of a number of children, judging from the shape of her body, and one who was struggling to make ends meet which was something I easily deduced from the weariness in her eyes.
She was the perfect candidate.
And she said yes.
“I gave you my mobile number,” I answered her as I opened the brown folder she gave me. “Text me your bank details and I will forward the payment as soon as I get out of this hospital.”
“O-Okay, Sir,” she said. “Is there anything else you need from me?”
“No. You can leave me now,” I said without even looking at her. I was focused on the contents of the document she handed over.
“Very well, then. Please don’t forget the payment, Mr. Summersmith,” she reminded me one last time.
“I won’t. Now, please leave me.”
She did as I instructed. I needed my privacy. I had my suspicions and I didn’t know how I would take it if, by some chance, my hunches were verified. I needed to be alone.
I started to read the paper inside the folder.
It was a DNA test, one which I asked her to get for me before I was taken to the operation room. I ordered her to get a sample from my father - a strand of hair, a tissue sampling, a cut fingernail, anything - and ran it with mine.
I wanted to know.
I needed to know.
How come our tissues didn’t match when the doctor said that it should’ve been fifty percent compatible at the very least?
There was only one possible answer to that. And I needed to know for sure.
I perused the results. I was greeted by a list of labels and numbers that I didn’t understand.
D21S11: 27, 32; 28, 33
D7S829: 7, 9; 11; 12
TH01: 15, 16; 14, 18
D13S317: 7, 9; 10; 11
D19S433: 14, 15; 13; 17
What do they even mean?
If it was supposed to be a paternity test, then some of the numbers should match... but none of them did.
As I scrolled down the document, the answer became clear.
INTERPRETATION: The results indicate that the alleged father is not the biological father of the child.
I felt like the world around me crumbled into oblivion, not because of shock, rather, because it wasn’t really the world I thought I knew. It was a falsified reality, and my existence may very well be just as false. Everything I have come to accept as true, wasn’t.
And everything I knew about myself was just a lie.
No wonder I hated him so much. We weren’t even related!
He had no right to impose his will on me... to tell me what to do... to tell me how I should live my life... to give me goals which he wanted me to achieve when in fact, those were meant to boost his ego.
His fucking ego that shouldn’t even involve me. I’m not his son. I never was. I never will be.
And I gave him my kidney?
Bullshit!
I risked my life for a stranger?
I was breathing rapidly, close to palpitating. My vision was turning black. My hands were shaking. I tore up the papers that contained the results and threw the pieces on the floor. I checked the machine behind me. There was an off button. I pressed it. That would stop the damn thing from beeping when my vitals changed. I pulled out all the stupid tubes and wirings attached to my body. I stood up and started to walk towards the other end of the room.
Fuck!
I was too weak that I collapsed on my knees.
I should do this. I should get up and get out of that place... out of his reach... out of his fucking life.
I stood up once more and managed to reach the drawer in front of the bed. I opened the doors and saw my clothes inside. I removed the hospital gown I was wearing and put on my shirt and my jeans and my shoes.
Sneaking out of that hospital was easier than I thought. The hardest part was refraining from clutching the left side of my abdomen, which hurt like hell as I walked. Once I made it past the lobby, I held it with my hand. The area was wet. I was bleeding.
When I got past the first block from the hospital, I looked back.
He was still there, probably recuperating from the operation he went through.
From the distance, I gave the building two middle fingers.
A final fuck you to the life of lies I was leaving behind.
Chapter 42
PHOEBE
“We cannot contact the police because he’s not a felon, Ma’am.”
The staff member’s answer almost infuriated me. Hayden was missing. He escaped from his room some
time within the twenty or so minutes I spent away from him. He had planned everything all along. He pretended to be overwrought one moment and sullen the next, all because he wanted to win my sympathy so that I could leave him be and he could begin his getaway.
