Page 114 of When Lemons Give You Life

“I know it’s been only a few months,” Frank adds, “but your sister has become everything to me.”

I nod. “I had one of those once. An everything. I’d have given my kidney to save him.”

“You gave your mind instead, didn’t you?” Frank says softly.

My legs buckle, and I collapse into the chair outside her room. Frank takes a seat next to me, draping his arm around my shoulder. We stay that way, saying nothing, and I’m sad I never got to be a man who makes Lisa happy, or truly get to know the one beside me who does.

The following morning, I’m trussed into a bum-flashing hospital gown and settled into a clinical bed that feels far too familiar. Frank pops in to wish me well before they wheel me down the hall. The crisp sheets rustle beneath me as we pause to let a woman on a mobility scooter pass. Through an open doorway, I spot Lisa talking to a nurse with a clipboard, a paper surgical cap on her head. My eyes sting. My little “Sue” chef. For the briefest moment, I second-guess myself. I want to call her name, to reach for her. But no sound comes, we keep moving, and the chance slips quietly away.

A week or two from now, once she’s had some recovery time, I’ll instruct Allison to tell her I’ve died. Let that be the last lie. The only one that might actually help.

75

Lisa

A man’s voice floats in, distant and echoing. “Looks like she’s coming to.”

I peel open one eye, a slash of light cutting through the haze. “Hello? Where am I?” It hurts to speak. I touch my mouth and feel a plastic mask.

“Hi, Lisa. How are you? You might be a bit sore from the intubation. You’re just waking up from surgery.” A male nurse with a goatee, who looks all of nineteen, grins at me.

“Surgery?” I croak, grasping my head. My brain feels like sludge.

“Yes, you got a new kidney!”

My pulse quickens. I push back the cotton blanket and lift up my hospital gown to reveal a long dressing across the right side of my lower abdomen along with a dreaded catheter bag.

“Hi, Lisa,” an older woman says softly. “I’m Jane, one of the transplant nurses, and this is Evan, a nursing student on placement—it’s his first day. You rest up, and we’ll be back later.”

Time fades in and out. Staff murmur things I can’t hold on to. I wake to soft lights and hushed voices. Tubes everywhere. At some point I feel myself being wheeled into another room.

Frank is there, a tall, blurred shape that sharpens just enough for me to see the relief in his eyes.

The next time I surface, nurses Evan and Jane are back at my bedside.

I try to sit but the pain smacks me back down. “I’m sorry—I don’t remember anything. They found a donor?”

Jane leans closer to Evan. “Some patients become very disorientated or forgetful after anesthesia. It can even cause temporary amnesia, usually goes within a day or two.” She places a hand on my shoulder. “Take it easy, love. And yes, they found a donor, remember?”

Evan beams. “You’re so lucky! My brother won’t even share his chips let alone a kidney!”

“Evan!” Jane says through gritted teeth. “Can we have a word outside?”

They leave, and I watch them through the glass wall. Jane says something to him in a sharp whisper that’s almost loud enough for me to hear, something about “didn’t want her to know.”

Evan claps a hand over his mouth. Then he peeks back inside, face red. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t supposed to say anything. I’ll go now and let you rest.”

An alarm sounds from another room, and as they rush off, one of Evan’s words lands with a sickening jolt.

Brother. It presses in, too big to hold. There’s only one way that I could have his kidney.

My vision snaps out of focus as realization settles in. Griff is dead. They probably wanted to wait until I’d recovered to break the news. Miraculously, I must have been at the top of the list.

Tears surge. I wasn’t with him when he passed. I didn’t get to say goodbye. Not that he would have known. Still, I’d thought there would be a moment. Some flicker of awareness. A hand squeeze. Something. I knew the time to make amends was over after his diagnosis. But now, it truly feels gone without a shadow of a doubt. He’s dead. And I’m still here. Because of him.

A knock breaks the silence as Frank arrives with a bunch of gerberas. “Hello, you.” His smile, now as familiar as my own, brings on more tears. I reach out my hand, and he takes it, sitting on the bed. “How are you holding up? You’ve been in and out of it all morning, poor thing.”

“Well, they fixed my broken kidney. But I think it broke my heart in the process. I heard about Griff,” I say, my brain still foggy.