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“But he isn’t having any luck.” I moved from Novaletti and Rhylie, whose arm he smoothed with a gentle touch, to the window. The sun was shining, and it felt like it mocked my dismal situation. “Are we on a timer?”
He appeared at my side, still moving his lips as the robotic voice talked. “You can keep your wife on life support as long as you see fit. However, recovery can become more complicated with time.”
“Of course.”
“Why don’t we go and see her?”
I attempted to turn, and my knees hit the floor with a damaging thud, but I didn’t feel it. I was too focused on my loss and how it was only going to get worse. “I can’t.”
Novaletti, again, unlike most doctors, didn’t offer me time alone—time to try and come to terms with my feelings. He bent, and his arms wrapped around me, pulling my better ear into his chest. He felt like a friend, and fuck, I needed one.
“Even if we find someone, what’s the chance of her body not rejecting the organ?” I drifted away, falling to my ass on the floor, waiting to watch his mouth move, partly out of habit.
“Nine out of ten transplant recipients will be alive in one year’s time.”
“Is that all they get?”
“There’s been cases of people living twenty, thirty years. I hope, if we can find a donor, Catharina is one of them. And I hope Feebee will be one of them, too.” Novaletti took a minute. “I lost my first serious girlfriend to trafficking. We were both taken. She was stolen for her organs. I broke free, with my tongue hanging off. She was already dead when I found her. Feebee received her heart. Given the circumstances, we’re quite an unusual match, but she’s everything to me. I can’t imagine losing her, and luckily, we’ve had no complications. Sometimes, it works.”
I didn’t comment on his previous relationship or question his current one. Things weren’t always black and white.
All I focused on was, sometimes, it works.
“Have you ever done a heart transplant?”
“I’ve assisted on one.”
“She might not make it.”
“She might not, but I’ll do everything I can to keep her alive. I promise you, Remington. I’m going to go and check on her.” He brushed himself off as he stood. “I’ll give you a minute with Rhylie.”
At the door, he took one last look at Rhylie. His eyes glossed over at the loss of a patient.
I moved back to my chair, reaching into my pocket for the two folded-up notes.
“I guess I should read your last words to me, huh?”
Silently, I did.
Remi,
Please don’t be mad at me. I did this for her.
This place is crazy tonight. Lots of nurses are speaking about how Mr. Cole’s wife is on life support because her heart has failed. They don’t know that’s my baby sister as they whisper nearby.
My heart is breaking harder than ever, and part of me wants nothing more than to run to her and wait for a miracle at her bedside.
But I can be her miracle, Remi.
(My nightdresses weren’t that hard to break. Make a note to get thicker ones for other patients.)
The nurses will be checking on me in 5-10 minutes, and I’ll have already tied these nightdresses to my bed slats and around my throat.
I don’t know that it’ll work, but I’m taking a chance and praying.
Cat and I are not biological sisters, but we always felt that way because of our close bond and matching blood type.
I’m a match, Remi.
