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I couldn’t even say I was sorry to hear that, because I wasn’t. “So your guilt made you finally reach out before you died? Like a bucket list item to check off—‘I’ve been forgiven by the niece I never wanted’?” I chuckled darkly.
But her answer was even worse. “No, that’s not it. I hate to do this, I really do.”
She was irritating me now. “Say it.”
“I don’t have to die.” Her words were so soft I could barely hear them. “I’ve been on dialysis for years, and it’s no longer enough. If I can find a kidney transplant, I might have a chance. Blood relations are more likely to be a match, but none of mine have made the cut. I’m on the waiting list, but I don’t have much hope for that. The wait time can be years, and I’m likely to die before I can get one from a stranger.” She spoke faster and faster by the end, rushing the words out as if she thought I’d hang up on her.
I shook my head wonderingly. “This is rich. This is seriously ballsy.”
“Please understand, Tara, I don’t have much choice. I have to look into any avenues I can.”
“After leaving me to rot in foster care my entire life, you call as soon as you need something. You expect me to drop everything—including one of myinternal organs—and help you out.”
“It’s a no, then?” She sounded dazed.
“It’s a hell no.”
With shaking fingers, I pressed “end call.”
24
Chelsea
For a couple of weeks, things were good. I was waiting with bated breath to hear back about my game, and in the meantime, I was playing it every time I saw my friends. Although we had come up with some small improvements, I still had complete confidence in what I had submitted to the manufacturer.
Things with Tara were… decent. She still didn't quite seem like her usual self, and I wasn't sure what was going on. If this was about me ignoring her that one night, she was wildly overreacting. I had heaped attention on her ever since then to make up for it, and it didn't seem to be getting me anywhere.
But what could I do? There was nothing specific that I could point to, nothing she was doing wrong. I just had a feeling that things weren't how they had been before. She didn't text me during the day, but then, she had always tried not to. And I could have sworn she smiled less, but there was no way to measure that.
If anything was wrong, I wanted to be there for her. But how could I if she wouldn't let me in?
The days kept passing by slowly, I began to accept that this version of Tara was who she really was. Maybe I had imagined the warmer, more cheerful version of her that had existed at the start, or maybe it had just been an act until I got used to her. Even this version of her was the most amazing person I had ever met, so it wasn’t too bad. I wanted to be with her, no matter what.
As time passed, the game started to fade from the front of my mind. Business was steady, and driving took more attention when the roads were all icy. The responsibilities of having my own apartment took up a lot of my time, so I didn't have too much opportunity to keep obsessing over the status of the game. My friends had stopped asking me about it, and my parents seemed to have forgotten I'd ever brought it up. The only time I thought about it was when I was playing it with my friends, and even then, they were starting to ask if I had any ideas for anything new.
It was an ordinary Wednesday afternoon when a package came in the mail, addressed to me at my new address. I looked at it with hope. I hadn't ordered anything online lately, which meant this could only be one thing—the game I had submitted
I was finally hearing back! They were replying! The return address on the package confirmed it. They would want my game. They would be interested in it. I grabbed the package and raced up the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator. My heart was pounding as I set the package on my kitchen table. My fingers shook as I tore it open.
I hesitated before I looked inside. I didn't want to do this alone—I needed somebody here with me. Tara was the one who had encouraged me to submit it, and she needed to be here to share my happiness.
I picked up the phone. “Baby, I got a response from the manufacturer. Can you come over?”
She was there twenty minutes later, looking more engaged then I'd seen her in weeks. “They sent it back? What did they say?”
“I wanted to wait for you to open it. I've been dying of anticipation.” The past twenty minutes had felt like twenty years.
“Okay, no need to hold off any longer. Go ahead and open it.” She looked almost as thrilled as me.
Slowly, I took the brown paper wrapping off the package. “I can't do it. You open it.”
“Don't be silly. Of course you can.”
I shook my head and pushed the box toward her. “Just tell me what it says.” I covered my eyes.
“All right, fine.” I heard rustling as she opened the box and took a sheet of paper from the top. There was a long pause– too long to be anything good.
“What is it? What's it say?” My heart fluttered in my chest. I didn't know if I wanted to hear the answer.
