by Hannah Bent
And then my head broke the surface, and warm air filled my lungs. I gasped and coughed.
In the distance, I could see a beach.
I called for my mother again, and then I saw her swimming towards me. She wore a yellow swimsuit and had an iris in her hair. I watched her gliding through the water, unaffected by the current.
I reached for her. Our hands touched. Mum’s skin was warm.
She told me to go back, but I refused to leave her. I grasped her hands, but the tighter I squeezed, the more she began to fade, until I found I was clinging to nothing.
My body became heavy and I began to sink. The sea water filled my lungs. I dimly heard a voice calling from the surface.
‘Marlowe! Marlowe!’
‘Marlowe.’ A hand was patting my back. ‘Marlowe, are you okay?’
Anita’s face was a blur before it came into focus. I felt sweat trickle down the side of my brow.
‘Sorry, I fell asleep.’ I sat up and wiped my face with the back of my sleeve. ‘How’s Harper? Is she okay?’
‘The doctor is with her now. Your grandmother and father have also arrived. I thought you might like to be present.’
I got to my feet, blinking. Small flecks of light danced around the corners of my eyes.
‘Do you need to lie down?’ Anita asked.
I assured her I was fine, then, after thanking her for waking me, hurried back to Harper’s room.
Harper was sitting up in bed, chatting to a young doctor. Underneath his white coat he wore a brown shirt the same colour as his hair. As soon as Harper saw me coming she smiled and waved. ‘This is Dr Arora,’ she told me.
The doctor turned. ‘You must be Marlowe. I’ve heard a lot about you.’
Something about the way his eyes brightened when he smiled reminded me of Olly. Suddenly I found myself lost for words.
‘Hello, darling.’ Dad and Wài Pó were by Harper’s side.
‘Where have you been?’ I asked them.
They looked at each other. Wài Pó stuck a jelly bean in her mouth.
‘We had an urgent appointment at the bank,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll fill you in later.’
I made a mental note to ensure that he did.
Harper eyed the attractive doctor. ‘You’ve got a nice face,’ she said.
He placed a stethoscope on her chest and asked her how she was feeling. As he examined her, he listened to her chatter, occasionally laughing at her jokes. He stated his observations about her condition aloud so that Dad, Wài Pó and I could hear, reassuring us whenever he found something had improved or was stable.
‘How were her recent bloods?’ I asked. ‘Previous results showed her CRP and white blood cell count were very high. But I guess that’s to be expected with a bad infection.’
He raised his eyebrows and asked if I was a med student.
‘Marlowe is very smart and studies bugs and butterflies in London,’ Harper informed him.
In answer to my question, Dr Arora told us that although Harper’s overall bloods had improved, her CRP and white blood cell count were still high. He wanted to keep her in for a few more days. I saw Dad and Wài Pó exchange an anxious look.
Harper said, ‘You’re a very friendly man, Dr Arora. If my Marlowe didn’t have a boyfriend already I would suggest that you two go on a date so she could go out and have some fun for once.’
‘Harper, stop,’ I whispered. I could feel myself blushing.
Harper went on, ‘Marlowe might seem like the ice queen in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, because she does not laugh or cry much, but she is not the ice queen, she is lovely in her heart… just so you know.’
The doctor placed his finger to his lips, suppressing laughter.
‘Harper,’ I hissed. I had forgotten how easily she could embarrass me.
Dad laughed. ‘Darling, I think we ought to leave off psychoanalysing Marlowe for now, don’t you?’
‘It’s okay, Harper, she doesn’t seem like an ice queen,’ Dr Arora assured her. He told her she was looking much better and promised he would come and visit again in the evening.
‘Wait.’ Harper held her hand in the air. ‘How is my hum?’
‘Your hum?’
She held her hand over her chest and he passed her his stethoscope.
She closed her eyes to listen. ‘Da dum da dum da dum da dum da dum.’ She smiled. ‘It is beautiful.’
‘That’s the kind of rhythm we like to hear,’ he said. ‘How about you hold on to my stethoscope? When you hear that rhythm change, you call me.’ He left the room quietly with a pen stuck behind his ear.
‘The friendly doctor told me I was looking better, Marlowe,’ Harper said. She pointed to my lips. ‘But you should put on some lipstick because you are not looking so good.’
Lipstick? That was the last thing on my mind!
But I was aware, suddenly, of how gritty my eyes felt from lack of sleep and I couldn’t remember when I’d last brushed my hair. ‘I’m going to the bathroom to splash my face,’ I said.
Gazing at my reflection in the mirror, I saw that Harper hadn’t been exaggerating. My skin was pale, I had dark rings under my eyes and my hair looked greasy. A lack of lipstick was the least of my problems, I thought ruefully.
Needing a break from my family, I walked the hospital corridors for a while before, on impulse, taking the elevator to the fourth floor: the maternity ward.
It felt different up here. A bunch of pink lilies stood in a vase at the reception area and the atmosphere was quieter, less urgent; the people I passed as I walked down the corridor towards the nursery were smiling rather than stressed. A painting of an angel shrouded in light, hung on the main wall.
At the nursery, I stared through the glass at the little humans cocooned in blankets. The baby closest to me was asleep. A yellow bonnet covered his head. He looked like a pupa, glossy-skinned, very still and oblong-shaped.
It dawned on me that I would miss the day when the new batch of pupae I was rearing in London would hatch. My hands gripped the window ledge. At least Olly would be there to look after them.
Olly.
If he were here beside me, he would be telling me some fun fact about how babies operate, how important the connection between mother and child is for that child’s development, how many similarities there are between us and mammals in the animal kingdom.
A newborn wrapped in white began to scream. Her mother picked her up and carried her from the nursery. I watched her walk slowly up and down the corridor, cooing at the bundle in her arms. I couldn’t understand why she was so happy. Her life would never be her own again.
I turned back to the baby with the yellow bonnet. He was stirring now. His face tightened and relaxed. He made O shapes with his lips. He did not have almond eyes. His face was not swollen and round. He did not have Down syndrome.
I felt a hand on my back. It was Wài Pó.
‘Where were you and Dad earlier?’ I asked. My words came out sharp and clipped. ‘Sorry, Wài Pó. I didn’t mean to sound angry, but I don’t understand why you would leave Harper when she’s so sick.’
‘It couldn’t be helped, Míng Yuè. Your father and I will explain everything when we get home.’
‘What’s there to explain?’
She shook her head. ‘Please, have patience and don’t worry. You have enough on your plate.’
Don’t worry. Usually when she said that, she was worried herself. Wài Pó didn’t like to talk about difficult things; it wouldn’t be fair to make her tell me what was going on.
‘New life,’ she said, gazing at the babies. I noticed how she had shrunk; her back had curved and shoulders hunched, as if she were trying to protect her heart.
‘How did you know I was here?’
She smiled. ‘You used to come here all the time when you were small and Harper was sick, to watch the babies. This is happy medicine.’
Happy medicine? I would never have put those two words together.
‘Hap
py until one of those little babies gets sick,’ I said.
Wài Pó took my hand. ‘You gave up your studies to come home.’
Her words hit me in the chest. No one had acknowledged this. I had barely acknowledged it myself.
‘Oliver misses you.’
I bit my lip. I didn’t want to think about Olly. He wasn’t here. I wasn’t there. It was no use longing for him.
‘He doesn’t like to be called Oliver,’ I said. ‘It’s so formal. I keep telling you to call him Olly.’
The baby in the yellow was wailing now, his face shrivelled and red. He looked like an old man.
‘I hope I live to see your baby one day.’
My baby? I had decided long ago I would never have children, but she didn’t need to know that. Why bring another life into a world already so full of suffering? And what if my child was born with a faulty heart? No, I wasn’t going to risk that.
A nurse entered and picked up the crying baby. As soon as she started rubbing his back, his screaming softened.
‘Ah.’ Wài Pó squeezed my hand. ‘This one just wanted to be held.’
‘Let’s go,’ I said.
I laced my arm through hers. I could feel her frail bones under layers of clothing and skin. As we were waiting for the lift, a nurse wheeled an empty basinet into the corridor beside us. When she left, I touched the crumpled blanket. It was still warm.
I sat next to Harper, who was in her hospital bed, writing an entry in her storybook.
Dad was in a chair facing the window, seemingly lost in thought. I waited for my irritation at his passivity to seep in, but it didn’t. Because I was too tired? Or was it Wài Pó’s acknowledgment of what I had sacrificed to be here? Knowing someone was aware of what I was going through had made me feel less alone.
Wài Pó had taken out her crochet. She was making a blanket with white and blue wool.
Dad’s mobile rang. He answered, gave Wài Pó a look, then walked out of the room. Wài Pó rose and followed, leaving her crocheting on the seat behind her. I was so tired of not knowing what was going on. I got up to go after them, intent on answers, but Dr Arora was standing in the doorway, holding a small stack of National Geographic magazines.
He handed them to me. ‘These are for the bug lady. I know how boring hospitals can be, so I dropped by the library at the end of the corridor.’
Harper clapped her hands together. ‘What a kind and sweet thing to do.’
I glared at her. Don’t forget I have a boyfriend.
Dr Arora chuckled and turned to leave. Despite the heat in my cheeks, I followed him out.
‘Can I have a word?’ I asked, pulling the door closed behind us. ‘I take it you know about my sister’s prognosis. She has been given only a few months to live.’
He nodded. ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured.
I was so tired of that word. Without bothering to hide the exasperation in my voice, I asked him if there was really nothing he or anyone else could do?
‘Hong Kong doesn’t have a large supply of organs. Even if Harper were to be placed on the recipient list, the likelihood of her getting a heart and a healthy set of lungs would be slim.’
He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.
‘Coming through!’ Louis raced past us carrying a white plastic bag. His suit jacket was tied around his waist and the back of his blue shirt was drenched in sweat.
We followed him into Harper’s room.
‘Thirty minutes and twenty seconds. YESSSSS!’ He pressed a button on his digital watch. ‘I am speedy.’ He gave Harper a kiss on the forehead. ‘How do you feel, my sweet lady?’
Harper smiled and gave Louis a long and passionate kiss.
‘I’ll leave you all in peace.’ Dr Arora turned to leave.
‘Wait!’ Louis shouted. ‘I need to talk to you, Doctor!’ He gave Dr Arora the bag. ‘I’ve got something in here to make Harper better.’
Harper leaned forward in bed. ‘You do?’
‘Yes. I’ve got you a new heart, my love. A special, brand-new one.’
Dr Arora and I peered into the bag. Inside was a large, bloody heart. It gave off a warm, meaty odour that made my insides turn.
‘Where did you get this?’ I stepped away, trying not to gag.
‘From Wan Chai Market.’ Louis puffed his chest out proudly. ‘From the butcher.’ Then his posture softened and his eyes glazed over. ‘Actually, it is from a poor, sweet cow.’ He bowed his head. ‘I think that now I am feeling a bit sorry for the cow that is missing its heart.’
Harper sighed and leaned back on her pillows. ‘I don’t want another heart anyway. Mine is fine.’
Why did she keep saying that?
Dr Arora retied the plastic bag and asked Louis to take a seat. He explained that this was a very thoughtful thing to do, and even though animal to human transplants had been attempted in the very early stages of transplant research, unfortunately they didn’t work.
Louis looked at the doctor blankly.
‘Do you like cars?’ Dr Arora asked.
‘Oh yes.’ Louis nodded fervently. ‘Very much.’
‘Well, giving Harper this heart would be like trying to give a Jaguar the engine of a Honda. The Jaguar wouldn’t be able to run with that.’ He paused and he put his hand on Louis’s knee. ‘I’m very sorry, but this cow’s heart won’t save Harper’s life.’
‘But –’ Louis shook his head, his face tightening. ‘But –’ As I saw his eyes fill with tears, I turned away.
‘Louis…’ Harper reached for him.
My breathing became shallow. Their pain was unbearable. I had to leave the room.
I walked back to the entrance to the cardiac ward. It was buzzing with visitors. I saw Dad and Wài Pó standing with their backs to me, deep in conversation. I moved closer.
‘How much do you think it will sell for?’ Wài Pó was asking.
‘One point two.’
‘That’s not enough.’
What were they planning to sell? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
I backed away before they saw me listening.
‘Marlowe, wait!’ someone called as I hurried down the corridor. I turned. It was Anita. This time, she wasn’t smiling. ‘Can we talk?’
Harper
Red flowers.
Red lips.
Red nails.
Red heart.
Marlowe
I closed the front door and turned on the light in the hall. The rest of the house was dark. A pair of Irene’s high heels, Hollywood red, sat in the entrance. The impression of her dainty toes marked the soles of her shoes in the shape of thimbles. When I was a child, our home was always full of visitors, music, chatter and beautiful things. Today it seemed that everywhere I looked, Irene had already made her mark.
I walked down the hall quietly, wanting to avoid a scene with her. She hadn’t returned to the hospital after our argument that morning, and I had no idea where she had gone. I made it to Dad’s study without encountering her and slipped inside, closing the door behind me. I sat at Dad’s desk and switched on the computer. As I waited for it to boot up, I thought over the conversation I’d had with Anita.
She had led me into a stairwell and handed me a slip of paper on which was written a Hong Kong phone number and the name Mr Zhāng. Anita told me this was the number for someone who could help Harper get the heart and lungs that she needed. A hospital in Shanghai could perform the transplant surgery in a matter of weeks.
I gaped at her, unable to believe what I was hearing. ‘I don’t understand,’ I said.
Anita explained that many lives were saved this way, including her brother’s. The only problem was the expense. It cost US$30,000 for a heart and a similar amount for lungs, although prices varied depending on the brokers and the hospitals they worked with. Anita said she had already spoken to my stepmother, who had told her that our family didn’t have that kind of cash. ‘But I thought I would me
ntion it to you, too,’ she finished. ‘This would save Harper’s life.’
Irene had told Anita we couldn’t afford to save Harper’s life? How dare she! Yes, it was a lot of money, but if it meant saving Harper’s life of course we would find a way. But then I paused. This all seemed too good to be true. Yes, China had a huge population, but were organs really so readily available? If they were, why was there such a shortage in the world?
‘Why is it so easy to get organs quickly in China?’ I asked.
Anita looked away. ‘I’ve heard that they use the organs of executed prisoners.’
My body went cold.
‘The way I see it,’ she said, ‘this is the one good deed they can do before they die, to redeem themselves.’
Pulling the computer keyboard towards me now, I typed the words ‘executed prisoners organ transplants’ into the search engine. Surely Anita had it all wrong. But the first search result was a newspaper article titled: China’s Organ Transplant Tourism. In the accompanying image, a man kneeled on the ground, handcuffed, head bowed. Behind him was a wall marked with bullet holes. I felt like I was going to vomit.
So Anita was right.
I shut down the computer and stared at the blank screen. I had two competing voices in my head. Was I really prepared to save my sister in this way? the first asked. At the expense of another life? But would I really turn down the chance to save Harper? asked the other. Surely nothing mattered more than that. Surely our family had suffered enough loss already.
I rose from the chair and left the study, walking into the living room to stand in the empty space where Mum’s grand piano used to be. I tried to recall the sound of her playing, but the memory refused to come. My body felt heavy, weighed down by her absence. What if I could have saved Mum? Wouldn’t I have done anything? Standing there, it was as if I was that scared little girl again, woken by the sound of my parents arguing.
‘You can’t give up,’ my father thundered. ‘I won’t allow it.’
It was the first time I had ever heard Dad raise his voice.
I crawled out of bed, still wrapped in my feather duvet, and tiptoed along the corridor to my parents’ room. The door was ajar, and I could see Dad pacing back and forth.
