I stood and smoothed the hem of my striped scoop-neck tee over the top of my mint-green slacks. “Yeah, that’s me.”
I gave Neil a panicked glance, and he took my hand in his to walk back with me.
They didn’t weigh me or ask the first day of my last period or anything routine like that. I’d already had an exam in New York, and my doctor had faxed over all the records and test results. Instead, the nurse led us straight to Dr. Robinson’s office.
Dr. Robinson was a tall, dark-skinned black man in his late forties, with a bald head and a boyish face. He was one of the top transplant surgeons in the United States, and lucky for my sister, he was as local as transplant surgeons tended to get in Michigan. He stood when we entered and leaned across his desk to shake our hands.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting,” he said, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk. “It’s been a busy day around here.”
“Well, this should be fast,” I said, with painfully forced cheerfulness. “You can give me a yes or a no and boot us right out.”
He smiled uncomfortably, tapping a few keys on the laptop beside him. “It’s actually not that simple.”
A sense of the world shrinking made me shrink, too. Everything closed in on me, from the walls and the ceiling to my own bones, my own spirit. The universe drew up to a pinpoint of realization: I wasn’t a match.
I looked slowly to Neil. He knew it, too.
“Blood type, crossmatch, tissue type, those tests came back exactly the way we’d want them to look,” he said, turning the laptop to show me the screen, as though I’d understand the same charts he was looking at. “So, you are a match.”
I breathed an audible sound of relief, and the doctor’s face fell.
“But you have other factors that preclude you from donating.”
I couldn’t give Molly my kidney. I’d failed her.
No. I was going to fix it. “Okay, what about those donation chains. I donate my kidney to someone else, their loved one donates to another person, their loved one donates to us,” I rambled desperately.
Dr. Robinson shook his head. “No. You can’t donate anything to anyone.”
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Neil’s chest rising and falling in short, rapid breaths. He squeezed my hand so tight it almost hurt. “Why not? What are these other factors?”
I’d been so concerned with Molly and how to help her that I’d glossed frantically past those “other factors”.
Oh, no. I’ve had so much unprotected sex with El-Mudad. What’s the failure rate on those stupid IUD things?
The doctor turned the computer back so he could read. “It looks like your first glucose test was a little high.”
“Right, so they did that second one,” I said, chewing my index fingernail.
“And that one also came back high.” He folded his hands on the desk in front of him. “Your glucose tolerance test had you at a blood sugar of one-forty. Your A1C was six-point-eight percent. You’re diabetic.”
I pressed my fingertips to my temples. “Oh, thank god.”
“Sophie!” Neil barked in surprise.
I held out my hands desperately. “What? I thought he was going to say I was pregnant. I get to be relieved!”
“Not about having diabetes!” he snapped.
“Actually, a woman Sophie’s age is at a higher risk of death from pregnancy complications than diabetes.” Dr. Robinson frowned slightly. “I’m concerned as to how long this has been going on. I noticed that you have a family history…but you haven’t noticed any symptoms?”
“Like what?” Despite that family history, I wasn’t thoroughly acquainted with the disease.
Dr. Robinson spread his hands as he listed the symptoms, studying my face for recognition. “Weight gain? Fatigue? Frequent urination, excessive thirst?”
“Well, the fatigue, sure, but I’ve been busy and I have a really long commute,” I said with a shrug. “Oh, and I do have to pee all the time, but that’s because I drink a lot of water.”
He waited silently for me to have some sort of revelation. It took way longer than it should have.
“Ah, crap.” I hung my head. “So, there’s no chance, then. My kidneys are useless.”
“I’m sorry. I know this must be a disappointment—” Dr. Robinson began.
Neil raised his hands as though to settle down a room full of people. His confused frown squinted his eyes and made little vertical wrinkles between his brow. “Now, wait, wait a moment. I’d like to revisit the very serious medical condition my wife has that, apparently, neither of you are interested in.”
“Sophie is going to need to see her GP as soon as possible,” Dr. Robinson explained patiently. “But obviously, yes, this is something to be concerned about. It can’t be ignored. Until you can visit your doctor, I’d say avoid excessive carbs and sugar; there’s a dietary list I can provide for you.”
Yikes. I’d gone to the Cheesecake Factory less than twenty-four hours before.
I could deal with that later. “But what happens to Molly?”
“She stays on the list until we find a donor.” Though I knew it was all Dr. Robinson could give me, it wasn’t enough. I wanted him to tell me that Molly would definitely get the kidney she needed. I wanted him to look her in the eye and tell her she would be—
Oh, no.
“How do you…” I cleared my throat. I didn’t want to cry in this poor man’s office. He probably saw enough of that. “How do you tell her? Or do I? What’s the protocol?”
“I’ll tell her and her mother. You don’t have to worry about that,” he assured us.
But I still felt like I should do it. Because I was the one who’d failed.
We thank Dr. Robinson for his time and headed straight out of the building to the car, Neil clutching the diabetes pamphlets like they were crucial counterintelligence documents. We only spoke once we were inside.
“Sophie, I’m so sorry,” Neil said, his face still ashen from the shock. “You must be so frightened.”
“I’m not.” I shook my head stubbornly. “You said we could figure out how to get Molly her kidney. We’ll figure it out. Ethically, though. No shady, Craigslist, bathtub full of ice—”
“Not that!” he snapped. “Sophie, you’ve just found out you have a potentially deadly disease!”
“Oh.” Yeah. That. “No, I know it’s serious. I just don’t see the point in getting worked up before I talk to my doctor. This is a little bit more immediately overwhelming. I can only handle being overwhelmed by one thing at a time.”
“I’m not sure that’s how being overwhelmed is actually defined,” he grumbled. “I want to get you back to New York, right away, and directly to your doctor’s office.”
“We’ll go back when we go back,” I ground out. “I’m not going to just be like, ‘Hey, tough luck about your kidney, kid,’ and take off!”
“Sophie, this is your life we’re talking about!” Neil shouted.
“And it’s my sister’s life I’m talking about!”
We stared at each other in heated silence. He was the first to break, looking away with a noise of disgust.
I sat back and faced the window. I knew Neil was just trying to take care of me, the way I rarely remembered to take care of myself. And I knew he was frightened. In his mind, me being in anything other than perfect health would be an acknowledgment of my mortality. It was cruel to give him the silent treatment when we could clear all of it up with a few kind words, but his easy dismissal of Molly’s predicament made me feel pretty unkind in the moment. We drove back to the hotel in silence. He held the door for me at the lobby entrance and asked if I wanted lunch. I shook my head, and we went to the elevators.
“Sasha said their appointment was at three,” Neil said quietly when the doors closed. “You’ll want to see them when they come back, I assume.”
“Yes.” Of course I would. I couldn’t disappoint Molly and run. And I wanted to make sure that I would see them all
, again. And I wanted to promise them it would all be okay.
“They know you’re going to help them.” Neil turned his head to finally make eye contact with me. “This isn’t a failure on your part.”
My lower lip wobbled, and tears sprung to my eyes. “Then, why do I feel like one?”
He moved to take me into his arms, but the elevator dinged. The moment we stepped out, though, he hugged me tight, right there in the hallway.
“Because you have a wonderful heart,” he whispered against my hair. “It’s why I treasure you.”
I didn’t want cry where anyone could walk up and see me, but I couldn’t help it. I buried my face against his shoulder and let go with the wracking sobs that had been threatening since we’d left Dr. Robinson’s office. “I just wanted…”
“You wanted to save your sister’s life.” He kissed the top of my head, his arms tightening around me.
“I wanted a reason for them to love me,” I admitted, not just to Neil, but to myself. I’d spent so much time pretending that I was doing this because it was right, because I cared about someone going through what Neil had gone through, because I didn’t want a teenage girl to die. All of that still applied, but the one thing that I’d denied, the one thing I’d promised myself and everyone around me that I had not felt, had been the number one reason I’d done it.
“I know,” he said, and it wasn’t an empty platitude. He actually had known. He just couldn’t have told me in a way that would have made me listen. Or wouldn’t have made me apocalyptically furious with him. “But can I tell you something?” When I didn’t answer, he went on, anyway. “That girl is going to love you whether or not you give her your kidney. Or thousands of dollars’ worth of clothes and electronics.”
I stepped back and wiped my eyes. “I wish I could be as certain as you.”
“I know teenagers. I raised one. And I know how quickly they can give their affection away.”
It took me a moment to remember what he was talking about. Emma was obviously the teenager. So, the adult was probably Neil’s first wife. He’d said the two had gotten close, but Elizabeth hadn’t been invited to Emma’s wedding, and Emma hadn’t told her about Olivia. Even as an adult, Emma hadn’t really forgiven Elizabeth for the divorce. That was definitely not the future I wanted with Molly. Or Susan, despite our rocky start.
“What time are we meeting them?” Neil asked, taking one arm off of me to check his watch.
I stepped back and wiped my eyes. “Seven. We were going to go to dinner, but I’m not sure they’ll be up to it, after the bad news.”
“You should get some rest, just to be safe.” Neil put his arm around my shoulders and guided me toward the suite.
He was right. I did need to get some rest. But my brain wouldn’t stop working. All I could think of was having to face Molly with both of us knowing that I’d failed her. While I lay in the bedroom, pretending to nap and mentally torturing myself, Neil was in the sitting room, his fingers tapping away on the laptop. I didn’t have to get up to find out what he was doing; he’d be researching everything he could about type two diabetes.
That was a mind trip, in itself. I knew it ran in our family, but I’d always assumed I would get it when I was in my fifties or sixties. Not my twenties. I felt like someone had dumped an extra thirty years of hassle on me, on top of all the other bad news.
With a huff of frustration, I kicked the blankets off and headed out to the sitting room, pulling one of Neil’s T-shirts on over my panties. I hated how hotels were never hot or cold, but both, randomly throughout the day. I’d been freezing in the bedroom, but now, it was almost unbearably warm outside of it.
Neil sat at the desk, clad in his boxers and a Rush T-shirt. God, I hated Rush. Every song was like a rock opera written by a Dungeons and Dragons group in their spare time. He looked up and gestured to his open laptop. “Good news. As long as it’s well-managed, type two diabetes doesn’t necessarily shorten your lifespan.”
“Great.” I rubbed my palms on my thighs. “Glad you’re on top of the paranoid Googling.”
He sighed in frustration. “If you aren’t going to think about this, then I will. Someone has to. You neglect your own needs constantly to worry about others.”
I opened my mouth to protest, and he cut me off.
“Don’t argue. Think of all the times you’ve forgotten to eat because you’ve been too busy with something at work, or something with Olivia. Think of all the times I’ve been in trouble, and you’ve worked yourself to death helping me while you’re internally falling to pieces. For god’s sake, I had to send El-Mudad to care for you when I was in the hospital.”
I bristled at the mention of that dark time, and the way Neil had framed it as though I’d somehow burdened him during it. “I’m sorry, I’d just become a parent overnight. I didn’t even get a chance to read a baby book. I was caring for Olivia and putting her needs first, the way I was supposed to.”
“No. That’s not what being a parent is.” He shook his head, frowning as he corrected his own statement. “All right, yes, it is. In part. But if you don’t take care of yourself, you can’t take care of anybody else. What you’re doing is ignoring your own needs to worry about the needs of others. People you just met this week.”
“It doesn’t matter when I met them. They’re family,” I insisted.
“Would they do the same for you?” he asked.
The question hit me hard. So hard that it impacted me physically. I dropped onto the couch, tears springing to my eyes. I wanted to be furious at Neil for asking the question, but he wasn’t the one who’d hurt me. It was the truth that had wounded me.
“Oh, Sophie.” Neil got up and came to sit beside me. “I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s fine.” It wasn’t. “You weren’t trying to hurt me. And you’re right. I don’t know if they would do the same for me. But that’s not the point.”
“Then, what is?” he asked, the lines of concern never leaving his face.
“The point is, I would feel wrong if I didn’t help. And I would feel…incomplete. I know I’m only doing this because of my messed-up feelings about my father. But that’s for me. If I want to keep that, or do something that makes me feel better about that, then that’s my choice.” I couldn’t expect him to understand, but I could trust him to respect my feelings.
“Those aren’t the worst motives I’ve ever heard. Or had for my own actions.” He put his arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry. I went a bit overboard. I know you’ll do the responsible thing and see your doctor when we return to New York. And I know that I’m overbearing and overprotective in a way that husbands should not be over their wives.”
“Or any human being,” I added for him.
“That, too,” he agreed reluctantly. “But it’s not entirely selfish. Yes, I need you, more than I probably should. But more than anything, I want you to put yourself first when it matters. I want you to care for yourself the way you deserve to be cared for. Especially when I can’t.”
“Because I won’t let you,” I added dryly.
He grinned. “I didn’t say it.”
“You might as well have.” I heard my text alert ping from the next room. “Hang on.”
I went to my phone, dreading with every step exactly what I knew I would find waiting. It was from Susan. I opened the message and braced myself.
Just got out of appointment. Headed back to hotel. Mom and Molly want to talk.
What did that mean? Did they want to talk to me, or did they want to talk to each other?
I texted back, Talk to me?
I waited a long, long time for the response, which was just, yes.
Text when you get here. We can meet in the lobby. I tossed my phone across the bed. I should have started making myself presentable, but I just stood there, questions piling upon questions and drowning out any reasonable possible answers. It was like I’d just gotten pulled into a conference room by some cosmic HR person, and I didn’t k
now if something was misspelled on my W2 or I was being let go.
Let go? That was the worst word choice my brain could have landed on. Because I feared that this might actually be the end of the line. The kidney was probably the only connection I would ever have to them. Now, that connection was gone.
Eventually, I made my body move. I put on jeans and a clean shirt and headed down to the lobby, because pacing the suite wasn’t doing me any favors. Neil stayed behind at my request, and he didn’t argue, which I appreciated. Despite his occasionally paternalistic behavior toward me, he did trust me to handle some things on my own.
My text notification pinged while I was in the elevator, so I wasn’t surprised when I stepped off to spot Sasha and Molly in the sitting area.
I lifted my hand in a half-hearted wave then slid my hands into my pockets as I approached. “Hey.”
“Hi, Sophie,” Sasha said. Molly just looked glumly at the floor.
I sat in the uncomfortable armchair across from her and leaned down, futilely trying to catch her eye. “I’m so sorry, Molly. If I’d had any idea that I couldn’t donate—”
“It’s all right.” Sasha didn’t sound disappointed or sad. Just exhausted.
That was worse.
“I honestly didn’t know. I’m new to all of this—”
“She said it was fine,” Molly muttered under her breath.
Sasha looked between the two of us, her expression strained.
It might not have been appropriate to ask, but I did, anyway. “Sasha, can I have a second alone with Molly?”
“Sure.” Sasha gave me what might have been an encouraging closed-mouth smile if not for the grim set of her eyes. She stood, put her purse strap over her shoulder, and said, “I’ll be in the room.”
Molly and I sat in silence until Sasha was out of earshot. It was only then that Molly finally looked at me, her jaw set stubbornly, her eyes hard. “So, I guess we’re done here.”
The words tore at my heart. “Are we?”
She shrugged, but the casual gesture betrayed her. Though she tried for disinterest, she might as well have had a physical bleeding wound, her pain was so obvious. “Why would you stick around? You don’t have to give me your kidney, now.”
The Sister (The Boss Book 6) Page 28
