by Syd Parker
“I can imagine. I have high hopes, Bellamy. He’s going to be okay. He’s a fighter.”
“He is. We just want to know what we are fighting against.”
“Fair enough.” Sawyer leaned back while one of the servers set plates of steaming chicken piccata in front of her and Bellamy. She waited for Bellamy to taste it so she could see her reaction. “Didn’t I tell you it was delicious?”
“Mm-hm.” Bellamy chewed slowly, savoring the tart lemon mingled with the salty, pickled flavor of the capers. “It’s wonderful. I almost went with the special. I’m glad I didn’t.”
“I don’t get anything else. I’ll eat this all three nights we are here. That’s sad, isn’t it? I’m so boring.”
“Predictable. There’s a difference. I like predictable.”
Sawyer waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “You do? Figure I can be as predictable as you want.”
Bellamy cocked her head. “We’ve had this discussion.”
“Mm, yes, I know. ‘Course, I never tire of talking about myself and how much the ladies love me.” Sawyer stuffed a bite of chicken in her mouth saucily.
“Seriously?” Bellamy rolled her eyes impatiently. “You do realize that I know you, Sawyer. You aren’t conceited. As a matter of fact, you are the opposite of that. Nice try, though.”
“I could be.” Sawyer’s bottom lip jutted out petulantly. “The ladies do love me, you know.”
“Mm-hm, yes, Sawyer. I know.” Bellamy tried not to smile. “Who wouldn’t love someone as adorably predictable as you?”
“Exactly. Who wouldn’t?” Sawyer punctuated the words with a probing glance, almost daring Bellamy to refute how she felt. She finally pulled her eyes away and nodded at her team. “I can see the natives are getting restless. Might be time to get them back to the hotel. You want to come by for a while? I’d like to continue regaling you with tales of how wonderful I am.”
Bellamy couldn’t help laughing this time. “As tempting as that sounds, I think I need to get on the road. Kevin looks pretty beat.”
“Okay.” Sawyer left to attend to the bill. She didn’t see Bellamy again until they were in the parking lot. “I’m glad you came. You were good luck. Hopefully, that will carry through the next two games.”
“I’m sure it will. Sawyer, it means a lot that you care about us as much as you do.”
“I’m invested now.” Sawyer rested her arms on the doorframe. “Keep me posted on the tests.”
“I will.” Bellamy fiddled with her keys nervously. Everything about Sawyer was genuine, down to her concern for them. She fought the urge to kiss her. Just a simple gesture meant to express her gratitude, but she refrained. It was an indistinct line Bellamy couldn’t cross. Instead, she squeezed Sawyer’s hand, praying her eyes weren’t betraying all she truly felt. “Good luck tomorrow.”
Sawyer waited while Bellamy got in the car then shut the door after her. She leaned in the window and smiled at Kevin. “Thanks for being our good-luck charm. We needed the win.”
Kevin nodded. “Sure thing, Coach. I’ll leave some of it here. Thanks for inviting us.”
“Anytime.” Sawyer met Bellamy’s eyes one more time, silently reminding her of everything that remained unspoken between them. She finally stood up and patted the top of the car in a good-bye. She boarded the bus, her head swimming with the day’s events, tucking all the special moments with Bellamy into the corner of her heart. She would save them for a time when she felt alone; dust them off and relish the warmth she felt in those brief occasions. For now, it consoled her. For now, it kept her grounded. She knew there would come a time when she would need to let those memories go, but not now. She wasn’t ready just yet.
Chapter Thirteen
April 2014
“The biopsy confirmed our diagnosis. Kevin has Anti-Neutrophil Cytoplasmic Autoantibody vasculitis. It’s an auto-immune disease that affects the blood vessels throughout the body. You know that the body produces normal antibodies to fight infection. In Kevin’s case, his body is producing abnormal antibodies, which attack the small blood vessels in his kidneys. It is leading to his kidney failure. Ultimately, his kidneys will fail. The disease has progressed to the point that his kidneys are functioning at around 25%. As the disease progresses, he will lose more and more of that.”
Bellamy pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled deeply, trying to calm her racing mind. Anti-Neutrophil Cytoplasmic Autoantibody vasculitis. Four months of tests came down to two words that catapulted their world upside-down. ANCA vasculitis.
Bellamy glanced at Kevin, amazed at the unflappable look on his face. Four months had given them plenty of time to imagine the worst and figure out a plan of attack. Aside from the ashen look on his face, he showed little emotion. He looked small against the sterile white of the hospital bed, his diminished frame propped up on a stack of pillows. “How do we fix this?”
Dr. Weller sighed helplessly. “Eventually, he will need a transplant. For now, I’m going to refer you to a nephrologist who can start treatment to help manage the disease activity. After the transplant, they will start him on immunosuppressants, so his body doesn’t reject the new kidney, and pray he doesn’t relapse.”
Bellamy pursed her lips in dogged determination. “Let’s schedule it.”
“It’s not that simple. For now, Kevin will have to start dialysis. We can test each family member to see if they are a match for living organ donation. If yes, the surgery can be scheduled. If not, we will put Kevin on the deceased donor transplant waiting list.”
“Dr. Weller, the list of possible donors isn’t long. Assuming Kevin’s dad and I are not a match, what’s the wait time?”
“Kevin will be registered on the United Network for Organ Sharing. It’s a centralized computer system that matches recently deceased donors with patients on the wait list. It could be as soon as a few months. I’ll be honest with you, Bellamy. The average wait is anywhere from three to five years.”
“Which means Kevin is stuck doing dialysis several times a week?”
“With his kidney function where it is, he will probably need dialysis every couple of days. That could work to Kevin’s advantage. Besides matching blood and tissue type, the system takes into account the time a patient spends on dialysis. In the meantime, the specialist will start testing potential donors.” Dr. Weller placed the clipboard against his chest and crossed his arms. “How are you feeling about all of this, Kevin?”
Kevin shrugged. Was there really a word to describe how he felt? Partly relieved to finally know what was wrong with him. Scared? Certainly, he was scared. Angry? Definitely. His first thought in all of this wasn’t his well-being, but his mother’s. What would happen to her if he didn’t make it? Next, his chances of ever playing baseball again. Everything he worked for was flitting out of his grasp; close enough to see, but too far away to touch. “I don’t really know. I guess I need some time to process it all.”
“I understand that.” Dr. Weller patted Kevin’s shoulder. “You will have a lot of time to think about it. Don’t go crazy worrying. I’m going to do everything in my power to get you fixed.”
“Me too, honey.” Bellamy cut her eyes toward Dr. Weller expectantly. “I want to schedule Kevin’s dad and my tests as soon as possible.” She hated seeing her once youthful and strong son cut down in his prime. Dialysis wasn’t something an eighteen-year-old should face. She navigated her way between anger and disbelief and almost laughed at the sheer absurdity that the situation presented.
Dr. Weller nodded. “I’ll have Sandy contact Emory Transplant Center in Atlanta. They will give you all the details. Bellamy, it’s a lengthy process. If you can have everyone who is willing to donate get tested at the same time, it will go faster.” Dr. Weller tapped his clipboard on the bed. “Listen, Kevin, Bellamy, if you have any questions in the meantime, please call me. I’ll have Sandy bring some literature on organ transplants as well and have her set up an appointment with the nephrologist. We’re gonna beat t
his.”
Bellamy waited until Dr. Weller left the room then rubbed her palm over Kevin’s cheek. “I would give anything to trade places with you, honey. This is a cruel trick that life played on you.”
“It’s okay, Mom. I’d rather it were me. I can beat this. I need to talk to Coach.”
“About?” Sawyer sauntered into the room.
“Coach. You’re here?”
“Yep. One of my kids sends me a text that he’s going into the hospital, and you can bet I’m going to be there. Trying to get out of finals?”
“Nah, just needed a little rest is all.”
“Sawyer?” Bellamy stared at her dumb-founded. It took several seconds for her brain to comprehend Sawyer was actually real, and several more moments before it dawned on her that Sawyer had driven seven hours to see them. “You didn’t have to drive all this way.”
Sawyer shot Bellamy her best whatever glare before shaking her head. “You’re right. I didn’t have to. I wanted to. I care about Kevin.”
Bellamy twisted the sheet nervously. “I know it means a lot to him; to both of us.”
Sawyer nodded then turned her attention to Kevin. “You look like you’re itchin’ to tell me something.”
Kevin held Sawyer’s expectant gaze for several beats before looking down. “Coach, I’m pretty sick.”
“Figured as much, kiddo.”
“I don’t think I’m going to make it this fall.” Kevin’s voice trembled as he spoke. The words, spoken so softly, held such utter disregard for hope that one on the outside might have mistaken them as a proclamation of death. “I thought you might want to know so you could have an open spot on the roster.”
“Hmm. Reckon that is one way to look at it. You know I got a lot of great players, Kevin. I don’t think I’m looking to fill any particular spot as of late. Bench is deep, bullpen still has some pretty good talent. I’m not hurting for a pitcher. S’pose I could bring you in as a redshirt freshman next year.”
Kevin glanced up. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t. I offered. If you’re smart, you’ll accept.” Sawyer paused, judging Kevin’s reaction and anticipating his response. “Remember throwing practice the first time you visited Delta? I recall a conversation about knowing when to sacrifice yourself for someone else. If you’re thinking this is one of those times you should take one for the team, it’s not. You earned this spot.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
“Now that we have that worked out, want to tell me what’s really going on?” Sawyer wasn’t one to press, but she meant what she said earlier, she did care about Kevin. And she cared about his mother. One look would let anyone know it was something serious. She wanted to scoop them both up in a bear hug and take them away from whatever was going on.
Bellamy nodded once in response to Kevin’s questioning glance.
“I have an auto-immune disease. My kidneys are failing. I need a transplant. Mom and Dad are going to get tested to see if they can donate one. Until then, I’ll be on dialysis.”
Kevin spoke so succinctly it almost made Sawyer laugh, if not for the gravity of his words. “If they aren’t a match, I want to get tested.”
“Thanks, Coach. We’ll manage. I’ve got my mom and dad. Plus, my grandparents, I think. If they aren’t a match, I’ll just get on the national registry.” Kevin felt as though Sawyer was incumbent to offer, and he dismissed the suggestion as readily as it had been made. He wouldn’t expect someone outside his family to fulfill such a compulsory proposal. “Besides, this way Mom will always be with me, no matter how far away I am.”
Sawyer flicked her eyes toward Bellamy and offered a conciliatory smile. She remembered too well the smothering she’d endured at her own mother’s hand. “Always keeping a watchful eye, or kidney, on her son.”
They laughed at her levity, ever mindful that their frivolity only temporarily masked a darker truth. “Mom probably wishes she could give me an eye or two.”
“Or a mouth. Then she could give you an earful when you need it.”
“Seriously? Am I that bad?” Bellamy feigned dismay.
“Nah, you’re pretty cool…for a mom.” Kevin closed his eyes, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming him.
Sawyer noted the change and cocked her head toward the door. At Bellamy’s acquiescence, she stood up and kissed Kevin on the forehead, the first real endearment she displayed outside their customary hug. The news had taken her by surprise; more what Kevin wasn’t saying than the sparse words he managed to say. She realized she loved him. In the months since they’d met, she had come to think of him more as a son then just one of her players. Affection bred from more than worry bubbled just beneath the surface. Sawyer pushed the feelings back down, brushing her hand down Kevin’s arm tenderly. She retreated slowly, allowing Bellamy the chance to wish him good night.
They walked in silence out of the hospital and found respite on a comfortable bench, recently warmed by the spring sun before it dipped inexorably beneath the horizon. The faint glow of the first faraway stars dotted the twilight sky. Sawyer waited respectfully for Bellamy to begin the conversation, mindful that in instances such as these, she may prefer quiet to mundane chatter.
“Thank you.”
When Bellamy finally spoke, Sawyer let out a relieved sigh. “For?”
“For always knowing what we need. You calm Kevin. Right now, it’s a welcome thing.”
“I hope that I do the same for you.” Sawyer replied genuinely. She wanted to be the shelter Bellamy turned to, if for no other reason than to keep her sane.
“You do. It’s different for me. I can hide it when I need to. Kevin has no reason to filter what he is feeling.”
“You’re both scared; I can see that much.” Sawyer turned sideways and faced Bellamy, not allowing her to hide. “Kevin was very nonchalant about what’s going on. He’s more than sick, isn’t he?”
Bellamy couldn’t bring herself to face Sawyer. Instead, she stared at the ground as she nodded. “Best case scenario: one of us is a match. We do the transplant, and hope his body accepts it.”
“And worst case scenario?”
“No one in the family is a match, and he goes on the national donor registry. There’s a chance his kidneys will give out before a donor kidney becomes available.”
“You don’t have to tell me what that means.” Sawyer stared at the sky, now bright with thousands of twinkling stars. “I’m serious about my offer.”
“No.” Bellamy shook her head. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“Because I said so.”
“That’s a perfect mother answer.” Sawyer hated the door that slammed at her response, recognizing Bellamy’s refusal to give up control and rely on someone else. She toyed with pushing, but decided to keep the peace. “How are you really?”
Bellamy shrugged and brushed a tear from the corner of her eye. “Scared. Angry. Helpless.”
“Those feelings are entirely understandable. You wouldn’t be normal if you weren’t scared or pissed this was happening. Kevin is your only son. You would do anything to protect him, except in this instance, you can’t. This is something not even you can fix, no matter how much you want to. You want a guarantee and you can’t have one. Anything else?”
Bellamy turned her head slightly and smiled wryly. “In complete juxtaposition to the situation, I’m hungry.”
Sawyer leaned back and laughed, unable to contain herself. “Can I buy you supper? Something not from the hospital cantina?”
“Please. Something filling.” Bellamy pushed herself up, finally noticing just how exhausted her body was.
Sawyer snapped her fingers. “I know just the place.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were sipping sweet tea at The Black Cow, waiting for orders of meatloaf and chicken and waffles. Sawyer had insisted on the fried green tomato stack with feta cheese, stating that it filled all the smaller corners of the stomach the entrées couldn’t reach. As they waited,
Sawyer let her eyes roam the room. The crowd was sparse, but it was a weekday. A few couples, some soldiers in uniform, several singles, enough to occupy a couple of moments with people watching.
Bellamy eventually broke the silence. “I want you to know how much I appreciate all you’ve done for us. Kevin adores you. I think it would have broken him if he really had to give up his spot. But I need to be honest and let you know that there’s a chance he might never walk out on the field again.”
Sawyer clasped her hands together and rested her chin on them. “It’s probably a little early in the game to make a substitution.”
“Maybe. I’m trying to be pragmatic.”
“Pragmatism fosters a glass half-empty outlook. I prefer to think of it as half-full.” Sawyer paused as the waitress set their appetizer down between them. “Kevin is a fighter. There’s a good chance you or David will be a match. And even if you’re not, I’m sure you’ve prayed and certainly God would answer the prayers of such a good Christian.”
Bellamy ignored the thinly veiled sarcasm in Sawyer’s voice as she had tempered it with a smile. “My faith isn’t predicated on a reward. Please, Sawyer, let’s not bring religion into it.”
“I’m just saying that you should try to be a little optimistic. I am. Kevin wants to be, but he needs you to guide him.”
“I’m trying.”
Sawyer slid her hand across the table and squeezed Bellamy’s hand. “I know you are.” She smiled and withdrew her hand. She rubbed it subconsciously, still not immune to the flutter in her stomach when she touched Bellamy. Flustered, she grabbed the cloth napkin off the table and spread it across her lap, nervously flattening the wrinkles with tedious precision. Sawyer looked up finally. “I got Kevin’s abbreviated version, what’s the actual diagnosis?”
“ANCA vasculitis. The white blood cells in his body are attacking the blood vessels in his kidneys, causing damage. Eventually, the damage ends in kidney failure.”
