Page 118 of When Lemons Give You Life

Frank pauses. “What? But I thought you said he told you . . .”

“What?”

“You said he told you, just before. Griff told you he donated. I assumed he called . . . ?” Frank motions to the phone.

My brain rattles, stumbling to put together the pieces. “No! Griff didn’t tell me anything. The nursing student—Evan—HE told me Griff is the donor, so I assumed he had died. I didn’t know about . . . about . . .” I can’t even get the words out.

“That he came clean about the fake dementia so he could be a donor? Oh, darling.” Frank takes a seat and slips his cool fingers into mine. “I’m so sorry. I would never have let you see him without explaining. That must have been a bombshell.”

I place my hand over my tummy and wince.

“Is it hurting?”

“Yes,” I gasp, unable to stop the tears.

I watch through blurry eyes as Frank gets a nurse. A ringing sounds as she asks something about more pain relief, and I agree. I want to be numb. I need to be the one to forget.

76

Griff

They’re out. Both the kidney and the lie that I had woven so tightly into my existence, each severed from me. One is giving Lisa a chance at life, while the other may unravel it. The hospital ceiling swims above me, blurred by the echoes of her angry cries.

I understood the stakes from the start, knowing that my last true relationship would be with Beau and Beau alone, a sacrifice I convinced myself was worth making. But I never accounted for this.

The transplant will be the closest thing to an apology I can offer, a semblance of atonement. In hindsight I should have instructed them to give her both kidneys.

A deep sorrow makes my whole body ache. She believes not only that I abandoned her but also that I could have saved Mum and left anyway. I close my eyes and see it all like it was yesterday, not decades ago.

“Please, Griff. Please do this for me.” Mum’s eyes plead from her hospital bed.

“No, Mum. I can’t. There’s too much at stake.”

“This could be life-changing.”

“Life-changing, not life-saving! I’m a match, Mum. I wouldn’t have gotten tested if I wasn’t prepared to donate. Paris isn’t going anywhere.”

She pats the edge of the bed, and I sit beside her. Has she always looked this small? “You told me yourself—this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. It’s Benoit, your dream restaurant, Griff.”

“I can delay it.”

She places her hand over mine, gentle but firm. “Griff, you know that’s not true. I spoke to Justin. He said you’ve asked twice about a later start date. It’s now or never. They’ve got someone else lined up.”

Bloody Justin—I’ve never before had a housemate so addicted to gossip.

“Mum, that’s insane. You need this kidney. And with your tissue type, the doctor says you won’t find another in time.” In time. The phrase haunts me. “They said my risk of inheriting now is negligible and have cleared me.”

She sighs, long and hard. “I’m not in great shape, love. And even if I had a new kidney, there’s no telling how long it would last. You’ve already done more than enough for me.” She traces the scar on my arm with her finger. “You carried too much, too young. And I didn’t tell you when it mattered most—that you were never wrong for who you love. I should have been braver. I’ve lived my life, now I want you to go and live yours.”

I stare at her, stunned. She can’t leave us like this. If I have to, I’ll get the doctors to declare her mentally incompetent. “What about Lisa? She would want you to live.”

Mum squeezes my hand, her eyes locking with mine. “Lisa is who I am thinking about. We don’t know that she won’t develop the disease. She’s still young. If she ever needs a kidney, I want you to be able to help her. And vice versa: I know the doctors said your risk is almost zero now, but if you ever developed it, I’d want her to help you too.”

I freeze. I see the tiny baby with her finger curled around mine, the six-year-old shadow, wearing a chef’s hat made of paper and glue. Looking at me like I was magic, like I could do anything. I imagine her in this bed instead—pale, fragile, scrambling for time. I couldn’t bear it.

All resistance drains from me. All the rage, the stubbornness, the arguments—I let them go. “Okay, Mum.” The tears spill before I can stop them.

“You’re going to Paris, Griff!” Mum says, ruffling my hair like she did when I was little. “You’re going to change people’s lives with food, mate. Just like I said.” She shifts closer, wrapping a frail arm around me. “One day, if you ever have kids, you’ll understand. The greatest gift you can give me isn’t your kidney. It’s the promise that you’ll have a big life, that you’ll follow your dreams.”