Sharp Right Turn
Page 19
“You know what thrills me?” she asks with a sly glance before continuing to inform me. “The boys, and the fact that Charlotte has so readily taken them in. I know she isn’t an official Pre-K, but Blaine is learning a lot already.”
“Oh yeah,” I agree. “Cam loved going there every day. He even asks when he’s going back, with Blake this time, of course.”
“Oh, where are they this morning?” she asks.
“Weston came to the house to sit with them. He’ll take any excuse to come eat Trystan’s cooking.”
“Oh, I bet.” She laughs, her eyes flicking to the men. “I’m the same way.”
“Karissa Ashby,” a woman calls from the doorway.
Cooper, who’s remained standing and is talking in quiet whispers with his brother, perks up and comes to his wife, holding out a hand to help her from her seat. She rolls her eyes, but gratefully accepts his assistance.
“We should be back soon,” Kari says with a little wave, and she sashays across the room, her round belly leading the way.
Trystan drops into her vacant seat. “Coop’s a little freaked.”
“I imagine so,” I say, “but Kari seems perfectly fine.”
“Good.” He nods, scratching at his two-day scruff. “She’ll keep him cool while they’re in there.”
I lean my head against his arm, and he lifts it pulling me into his side. We stay that way until a pasty-white Cooper leads Kari back into the room. Trystan stands hurriedly and approaches his brother with me hot on his heels.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, concern propelling his question to come out louder than he intends.
Kari rubs her hand over her bump and nods. She’s not quite as happy as before, but she still is clearly okay. “I’m fine. There were no problems.”
“Coop?” Trystan asks, waving a hand in front of his brother. “What’s up, man? You look like you’re about to pass out.”
With a headshake, Kari rolls her eyes. “You know how men are. They can’t take the reality of what women go through to bring life into this world.”
“Hey,” Cooper says, waking from his stupor and glancing to Kari. “I’ve been there for both of our children’s births. Not that I was much help, but I was there.” He looks to Trystan. “Jesus Christ, man. That fucking needle almost made me run screaming from the room.”
Trystan barks a laugh, and his eyes find mine. “Coop has a needle aversion.”
“Oh,” I say, understanding now why he’s so pale.
Kari giggles, but then pauses to rub across her stomach with a small grimace. “Ugh, cramp, but anyway, I kind of didn’t go into detail of the procedure on purpose.”
Cooper’s jaw drops, but Trystan lets out a belly-gripping laugh. “Holy fuck! That’s epic.” He throws up a hand and Kari high fives him.
I stand back, a little surprised at their antics. “I take it Cooper has earned this payback somewhere along the line?”
“Ten times over,” Kari replies, rubbing across her lower abdomen again.
“I think you need to get home and rest,” Trystan says, touching her arm. “My niece needs some quiet time. Is there anything we can do to help?”
Cooper places his arm around Kari’s waist, offering her any assistance she needs and nods to Trystan. “I think we’ll be okay. You need anything, babe?” he asks, looking to his wife.
She pauses and glances between Trystan and me. “I’ve already filled out the proper paperwork so you can legally be notified of the results. I truly hope Violet can help Cam.”
My eyes sting, and I wave my hands to dry the tears before they spill. “Thank you, so much.”
She nods and again rubs her stomach. “Okay, we’re going to go. I think a nap would feel pretty good right now, but I wouldn’t be opposed to a chocolate cake with chocolate fudge icing when I wake.”
“You got it,” Trystan says, stepping back and looping his arm around my waist. “Give me a couple hours at most.”
They start leading the way to the elevator and it’s surprisingly empty when it opens so we’re all able to step inside. My eyes can’t help but notice the grimace on Kari’s face as she rubs along her stomach.
“Are you sure you’re all right,” I ask, touching her arm.
“Yeah, it’s just tingling from the numbness wearing off. It feels weird.” She waves me off. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”
Wednesday night, I sit on the floor outside the boys’ bedroom, listening to Trystan’s soft voice read Green Eggs and Ham for the tenth time. My phone is clutched tightly in my hand, and I’m a nervous wreck, pouncing every time it makes a noise.
Dr. Sen has tried to explain the complexities of HLA typing, but in the end, decided he’d share the results on a scale of one to twelve. A rating of eight or higher and he feels confident with the match. If it’s below eight, depending on how much, the transplant is still possible, but the chances of rejection become greater, even with cord blood.
I thought I was anxious leading up to Monday, but was nothing compared to this wait. In the past two days, I’ve only eaten junk food to quell the unease as I wait for that elusive call.
I’m so inside my head that I fail to notice Trystan has gone quiet. A soft touch to my shoulder causes me to nearly jump out of my skin. My heart pitter-patters against my rib cage and my hand flies to my chest.
He squats beside me and gently unclenches my fingers from the phone. “Baby, you’re going to drive yourself crazy. Come on.” He holds out a hand and assists me in standing. “I think a nice glass of wine is in order.”
By now my breathing has calmed, and I’m grateful for his soothing presence. “Wine and chocolate sound wonderful,” I say as we start down the stairs.
He snorts. “Of course it d—”
The chime of my phone interrupts him, and I freeze in my spot as he slowly lifts his hand to see who the caller is. I hold my breath as I watch his facial expression. When his eyes widen, I almost collapse right where I’m standing. But that would never happen because he’s always there, and he always knows. One arm comes around to support me while the other swipes to take the call.
“Dr. Sen,” he greets with more normalcy than I could muster. “We’ve been waiting to hear from you.” He guides us both to a sitting position right there on the stairs. “Let me put you on speaker … Okay, we’re both here.”
“I apologize for calling so late, but the results just came in,” Kabir says, his familiar accent soothing away the tension. “Would you like me to get straight into it?”
Trystan looks directly into my eyes and says, “If you don’t, Easton’s liable to pass out.” He chuckles, but it’s hollow. In this second, he’s every bit as anxious as me.
“Very well,” Dr. Sen says before clearing his throat. “As anticipated, the donor is not a perfect match.” Neither of us react, as we expected this to be the case. “But on the scale we discussed, the donor is a nine.”
If he says anything else, we don’t hear him. The phone is lost in the fray as Trystan jumps up and lifts me, hurrying down the stairs so he can spin us around. I bury my face in his neck and cling to him. Gut-wrenching sobs burst forth as I relish in the news.
Our son has a match.
To be continued
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Acknowledgements
I want to thank everyone who has ever encouraged my writing.
This story is dedicated to my daughter.
For information on how you can become a bone marrow donor, please visit
&
nbsp; https://bethematch.org/
Families are unusual creatures. They come in all shapes and sizes, and each one works in unique and interesting ways. No family is perfect. We all make mistakes, and this family is no different.
This story is not meant to make light of any situation contained within it. For anyone who’s been through any of the ordeals presented, if I could write you a happily-ever-after I’d do it in a heartbeat. Thank you for giving my story a try.
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