Chapter 11: Not You

"You were tested," I said.

We were in Damian's office on the fourth floor, with the door shut and his phone on the desk between us.

"In June."

"You never said a word."

"You never asked what I do with my Tuesdays." He sat down heavily. "I read his file after he collapsed. The match numbers are rare. Mine fit."

"Fit how?"

"Close enough that the coordinator called me twice." He looked at the phone. "She wants me in next week for the last round of tests."

"No."

"Jo."

"No." My voice cracked. "Not you. Never you."

He went very still.

"That's a strange thing to say about a man who might save a life."

"He has a list. There are other donors. There's a registry, there's a..."

"He's thirty. His list is four years long, and with his blood type it could be ten."

He kept his voice level.

"I can do this, Jo. I'm healthy. I'm a surgeon, and I know what I'm signing."

"You would give him an organ."

"I would give him a kidney, because you promised him everything and it's the only wish that would end all the others."

I stared at him.

"That's why," he said. "If he's well, you don't owe him anymore. You just come home."

I had not expected it, and I had to sit down on the arm of his chair.

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