by Nikki Rae
“You have to believe that,” he whispers against my lips. “Okay?”
I nod against him. I want to thank him for those words, but I don't.
***
I stood on shaking legs and Jonah had to help steady me. “Sit down,” he said quietly, like he would break me if he used his normal voice.
Jonah brought me to the couch and he wheeled his chair over so we were across from each other. We were quiet for a while, then Jonah cleared his throat.
“I need you to know that originally, I asked you to be my personal donor.”
He looked into my eyes, searching for my reaction. I tried to keep my face blank.
“But I have clients who...like your type of blood. They like the taste of fear, of...” he seemed to be struggling for the words.
“Death,” I finished for him.
He didn't nod, but he didn't shake his head either.
“So you send my blood to them?” I asked. “You drink another person’s blood while you send mine to someone else?”
Jonah folded his hands and stared at them in his lap. “I also sent it to a testing facility.”
“Testing facility.” The words sounded strange and I didn't know what they meant.
“Yes,” he said. “To see if you were a match.”
I blinked a few times. “A match.”
He swiveled in his chair to a drawer. When he opened it, I saw that it was a filing cabinet. Jonah took a manila folder out from inside and handed it to me. I opened it with shaking hands. I didn't understand what it was I was looking at, but the name at the top of the paper helped clarify things: Myra Black.
“Your daughter,” I said. My mind began clicking pieces together, one by one. “You weren't looking for a match for yourself at all,” I said, “Were you?”
When I looked up at him, he was staring at me. “No.”
“You were looking for one for Myra. For her lungs.”
He nodded, almost imperceptibly, one time.
I took a deep breath. “You...” I hated the way that tears filled my eyes, how I felt like I had been betrayed and I wasn't even sure where the feeling came from. “You never wanted just me.”
Jonah was sitting next to me in an instant and I hadn't seen him move. I gulped down my impending sob, letting it scrape its way down my throat and into my stomach, where it caused a sharp, hollow, hole.
He placed an arm around me, like he was protecting me from the words he had already said, and I let the papers and the folder fall from my hands and onto the shiny floor. He smoothed his hand up my shoulder, neck, and then my head, leaning it against his chest. Resting his chin on top of my head, he smelled like a cross between clean laundry and a fireplace in the middle of winter.
“Since I met you,” he said into my hair. Then, again, only this time it sounded like it was to himself, “Since I met you.”
I took a deep breath, not wanting to look around the room that reminded me of hospitals and not knowing what to say to this man who I had given up everything for, who I had hoped would change things but had only complicated them.
“Can…” I had to take a deep breath before I finished. “Can we go upstairs, please?”
He wrapped an arm around me and led me back up the stairs, leaving the papers on the floor. Once we were in the warm den, he closed the hatch to the cellar and repositioned the rug over it. I sat down on the sofa and he joined me. It was very, very quiet.
“I just didn't think it was right if I was lying to you,” he said after a long time.
Jonah rubbed my back with his open palm and I relaxed a little. I liked being close to him, despite everything I had just learned.
“She's my age,” I said, leaning back so I could look at him. “She would need my lungs?”
Jonah nodded once, but was quick to add on, “It's completely up to you.” Then, his muscles tightening, he said, “Or I could turn you.”
I scooted away a little more, staring him in the eye. “I told you,” I said. “I didn't come here for that.”
He clasped my hand in his. “What did you come here for, Casey?”
I couldn't look away from him. I couldn't not answer him either. “To be with you,” I said. “To mean something, to help my family.”
He kissed my hand slowly, like he was kissing my mouth. “I understand if you want to leave, knowing what you know.”
I nodded.
“I don't expect anything from you,” he said.
“Except my blood,” I said. “For your client.”
Jonah placed my hand back on the couch between us, but he didn't let go of it completely. “Not if you don't want to.”
“Then what's the purpose of my being here?” I asked.
A small smile, without happiness, touched the corner of his mouth. “For me,” he said.
Then he kissed me.
***
The plane lands too soon, which is what I was expecting. I follow Jonah the farthest I can, and we stop outside his gate. He’s taking a layover to his next destination, but he’s told me more than a hundred times that he won’t be gone long. I hug him goodbye too tightly, not wanting to let go.
“Text me when you land,” he says into my hair.
I nod.
“I’ll meet up with you in a few days, alright?”
I swallow a sob and smile up at him as he kisses me.
And I watch him board his plane before turning to retrieve my luggage.
It’s already warmer here than back in Boston and I haven't even set foot outside yet. I wade through the people waiting by the conveyor belt and watch as my worn out suitcase tumbles down the line. I wheel it to the exit, where I wait impatiently for my parents to pull up.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Jonah Black: I miss you already. We'll see each other soon.
Casey Williams: I know.
I don't know what to say.
I take the opportunity to check the other messages I had refused to look at. Mom had texted me approximately ten times, telling me she woke up late, she was on her way, she was a little late, then that she would meet me outside at seven.
It’s seven-thirty.
Soon, our beat up van pulls up to the curb and Mom’s rolling down the window. She’s put blond highlights in her hair since the last time I saw her—they’re uneven and no doubt from a cheap over the counter bottle she bought at the drugstore, but it makes her look brighter, happier. Maybe she and Dad enjoyed the time alone.
“Get in, sweetie!” she calls.
I hustle over to the passenger side and throw my bag in the back. Some pop station is on low on the radio and Mom lowers it even more when I sit down and close the door. She brings me in for a huge hug, one that knocks the wind from my lungs.
A car honks behind us, breaking the embrace and forcing Mom to put the car back into drive. “So,” she says as she pulls away from the curb. “How was your trip?”
“Good,” I say vaguely.
She raises an eyebrow and I shrug off my coat, already sweating in the heat despite the cool air in the car. “That's it?”
I take a breath. “I'll wait till we're with Dad so I don't have to explain it all twice,” I try to say with a smile in my voice.
“Alright, sweetie,” Mom says. “Are you hungry? They don't feed people on flights anymore, I hear.”
“I'm fine,” I say. I just want to get home and get the hard part over with. I don't want to prolong it any more.
Mom glances in my direction. “You look like you lost weight,” she says. “The food not good in Boston?”
I shrug. “I walked around a lot,” I say, unable to keep the lie from slipping out of my mouth.
“Well, I'm going to take you out,” she says. “Dad's sleeping anyway so he won't mind. How's Friendly’s sound?"
I’m about to protest, but I can't find it in me. How many more chances do I have to be with my Mom and just hang out? I nod and she turns off on the exit.
***
There wa
s a stillness in the air, like when you’re just waking up and watching morning light flood in through your bedroom window, dust motes circling on an invisible wind. It was like that. Only my heart was pumping overtime, my head was swimming, and I was finding it very, very hard to breathe.
Jonah moved away from me. First his lips left mine, he pulled his head away, and then we weren’t touching at all.
I reached for his hand and he curled his knuckles into a fist; he wouldn’t look at me but I could see the expression on his face. He was clenching his jaw, staring at the carpet in front of us, covering up the thing he had been hiding from me the entire time.
“I thought her body could reject it,” I said suddenly. “I thought you said the risks were really high…if she were to get new lungs.”
Jonah stared at the floor before he gathered himself and spoke. “She could die from this operation,” he said. “She could die weeks, months, a year later, if her body rejects the transplant.” He shook his head like it would get rid of the thoughts. “But there’s a chance she could live. I can’t just sit still and not help her.” He took a breath. “I have to try.”
This was all Jonah had. Dying seahorses, a dying daughter, and me.
I swallowed. “I’m not going to live forever,” I whispered. “Not even close.” And it was like I was admitting it for the first time, even though I had always known, deep down, that it was true.
Jonah looked at me and blinked a few times.
“You brought me here for her,” I repeated. “For your daughter that’s dying.”
He opened his mouth, possibly to protest, but he shut it and then nodded. “I’m sorry.”
I shrugged, not knowing what else to do.
“I don’t know how much it’s worth,” he said slowly. “But I really do like you. Once I met you, I almost wished you weren’t a match for her. I almost wished…”
“That I wasn’t dying.” I didn’t know what made me think he was trying to say that, but I finished his sentence anyway.
He nodded.
I kicked off my boots, curled my knees up to my chest so that I was completely on the couch, and turned toward him. “How would this be different?” I asked. “If I wasn’t dying?”
“Casey,” Jonah said, trying to add warning to his tone, but failing miserably. He sounded unbearably tired.
“No,” I said gently, not wanting to sound like I was trying to fight with him because in all honesty, I wasn’t. I only wanted to know. “Please tell me.” I moved closer and he didn’t try to back away this time. “If I wasn’t sick, what would we do?”
Jonah smiled to himself, but it was a cross between happy and sad, like it could tip in one direction or another at any minute. “For starters,” he said, relaxing a little bit. “I wouldn’t have had to bring you out here.”
I rested my head on my knees. “Go on.”
“I wouldn’t be selling your blood,” he said. “I would be taking you out.” Now the smile he gave me was genuine. “On dates.”
I smiled too. “Where would we go?”
Jonah stared at the ceiling for a moment, like he was thinking about it, but I somehow didn’t believe that he had to at all. “I’d take you to a nice restaurant. Do you like Italian?”
I nodded.
“Then…I’d make you dinner,” he decided. “And I’d take you to our tiny aquarium and you could tell me how much better they are where you live.”
I laughed a little. “Then what?”
He looked at me for the first time in a while. “I would kiss you good night.”
A warm fluttering feeling filled my lungs, like a million moths drawn to a flame. “That sounds really nice,” I said.
Jonah took my hand again. “I’ll take you back,” he said, and he began to stand.
I pushed him gently on the shoulder. He looked at me, confused, but he sat back down.
“I like it here,” I said, looking around at the wooden walls, the worn arm of the sofa, how different everything was from the cold, plain house I had been living in with him.
“We used to come here,” he said. “Myra and I. After my wife and I divorced.”
“It’s nice,” I offered.
His thumb stroked the edge of mine. “I would take her fishing by the lake out back. In the summer.” He smiled to himself. “She never wanted to throw them back, she wanted to keep everything we caught as a pet.”
I laughed at his story, despite how sad the circumstances were. This was once a place for father and daughter, now it was a place that had been untouched, probably since the last time she was here. It was like we were sitting in her grave and she wasn’t even dead yet.
Jonah looked me in the eye. “I wish…”
He had trailed off, but I didn’t give him a chance to finish. I kissed him hard on the mouth, like I could breathe life back into his still lungs, make his heart beat once more. “I’ll help you,” I whispered.
***
Our food comes not long after we order it. Mom digs into her salad while I pick the sesame seeds off of the bun of my hamburger.
“So you have to tell me something about your trip,” Mom says. “Come on, any schools you're interested in?”
I look up from my plate and smile. “Kind of,” I say. “I'm not sure if I'm going to go anymore, though.”
Mom's face falls. “What do you mean? You were so set on going to college.”
I tear my sandwich in half and take a bite even though the smell of ketchup makes my stomach turn. “I know,” I say, chewing for longer than I have to before continuing. “I just think I want to stay closer to home for a while, you know?”
Mom smiles knowingly. “You missed us that much, huh?”
Without warning, my throat becomes tight. “Yeah,” I say, somehow managing to not cry.
The rest of the meal is pretty smooth. We talk about how Dad was driving her crazy and how work went for Mom while I was in Boston. I remember to text Jonah as our check arrives.
Me: Hey, landed a little while ago.
Jonah: Good. My flight was delayed an hour.
Jonah: It’ll be okay
And I knew he was saying it for the both of us.
“Who are you talking to?” Mom asks as the waitress takes her credit card. “Don't tell me you met a boy out there.”
I can't keep the smile from my face.
“Oh my goodness!” Mom practically squeals. “Tell me all about him.”
I take a deep breath. “I will, Mom,” I say. “As soon as we're home.”
She sighs dramatically. “Okay,” she says in surrender. “I'm going to go to the bathroom.”
Mom excuses herself and I watch her walk off. The waitress comes back with her card and I thank her. My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Jonah: Are you with your parents yet?
I feel stupid for not telling him sooner.
Me: Yes.
Me: Well, my Mom.
Me: She wants to know who I'm texting.
Jonah: Did you tell her I'm a twelve year old boy?
Me: Should have.
Me: It'll be okay.
My phone buzzes again, but I can't see what it says. I blink a few times, afraid that my vision is blurring when I haven't even been home a few hours yet. But when I focus, the reality of the situation is worse. There’s a drop of blood on my phone screen.
I reach up to my nose and pull my hand away. My palm is covered in blood. I rip napkins from the table, trying to staunch the bleeding before my mom comes back.
When I look toward the bathroom, not only is half of the restaurant staring at me, but my mom is rushing toward me, fear etched into her face.
***
The drive back to Jonah’s house was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. We stepped out of the car and back into the cold, walking side by side in the snow as our boots crunched down the thin top layer. He opened the door for me and I walked in ahead of him. I shrugged out of my coat while simultaneously kicking off my boots by the door so I wouldn’
t track water into the house. He had me sit in the kitchen while he busied himself, making something for dinner. Being at the cabin was like being in a vacuum that sucked up the time. It was already nine o’ clock. I texted my mom while he worked. She was excited that I was having such a good time, but wanted to know how much longer I would be there. I didn’t give her a direct answer, just told her soon.
Jonah set a plate down in front of me and set a place for himself as well. When I looked at it I smiled. Spaghetti and meatballs. He went into the fridge and took out a bottle of wine and poured himself a glass.
“Can I have some?” I asked.
He smiled and it was like he was already laughing. “You’re a little too young for alcohol.”
But he took out another wine glass and filled mine for me about halfway. I smiled before I took a sip. The only time I really drank was once in a while in high school, when I was pressured into it by people I wanted to be friends with. I never really even liked the stuff or had any interest in trying it out again, but being with Jonah, after the day we had today, I decided I deserved to feel a little detached from my body. The dark red liquid warmed my mouth and throat as I swallowed and I liked how it made me feel. More comfortable when I knew I should have been anything but.
“I hope you like it,” Jonah said, breaking the silence. I looked down at my plate, the smell of sauce flooding my nose. “I haven't made it in a while.”
I wondered idly if he made this for his daughter. If I was some surrogate version of her that he could take care of in some way. It should have bothered me, but it didn't. It just made me incredibly sad.
“It smells great,” I said.
And it was.
We ate mostly in silence, but we were both okay with it. Nothing really needed to be said. We would pause here and there, me between bites and him in between watching me eat and eating once in a long while, and smile at each other or say something in passing, like how warm it was in the room or how cold it was outside.
