They Called Me Selfish. My Kidney Saved Her Life. novel · Chapter 3 of 24
Chapter 3: The Other Rule
Dr. Tarrant tells Cosima he does not date patients, and in the hallway Cora lays her hand on the exact spot of Cosima's scar.
One week after surgery I sat on an exam table in the donor clinic with my shirt rolled up to my ribs.
Dr. Tarrant pressed two fingers gently along the line of my scar.
His hands were warm, and I hated that I noticed.
All week my mother's last sentence had sat in my chest.
Reed had asked my father for Cora's hand before my stitches were even out.
"Any fever?"
"No."
"Any swelling when you stand?"
"A little. Mostly I'm tired."
"That's your one kidney doing the work of two. It will settle."
He wrote in the chart, then turned the screen toward me.
"Your numbers are good. Better than good, actually. You'll be a boring patient."
"I've always wanted to be boring."
That got the corner of his mouth to move, just slightly.
I pulled my shirt down.
"Can I ask you something, Doctor?"
"Justin. I've had my hands on your stitches. We can drop the title."
"You said I was the only donor you ever drove home alone. Do you drive all the others?"
"No."
"So why me?"
He took longer than he should have to answer.
"Because I broke one rule for you," he said. "I would rather not break the other one."
"What's the other one?"
"I don't date patients."
"I didn't ask you out."
"I know." He capped his pen. "I was telling myself."
My face got hot, and I looked at my shoes.
He cleared his throat and became a doctor again.
"Next visit is in three weeks. After that, if your numbers hold, I can hand you to a colleague at the six-week mark."
"Why would you hand me off?"
"Because that's how the rule stops applying."
He said it to the chart, not to me.
I went out through the donor wing and took the long hallway to the elevators.
Halfway down, a pair of glass doors slid open, and my sister walked through them.
Cora wore a pale yellow cardigan and a clean white scarf. Her hair was brushed. She looked rested, and healthier than I had seen her in a year.
Reed walked behind her with her medication bag over his shoulder.
He saw me first, and his face closed.
"Cosima," Cora said, and she hurried forward with both hands out.
She hugged me, carefully, and I held my breath.
"I'm so glad you're here," she said into my ear.
"I'm here for a checkup. A cyst."
"Oh, poor you."
She leaned back and looked at my face.
"Are you eating? You look thin."
"I'm fine."
"Did you hear? I'm doing so well, Cosima. They say my numbers are perfect."
"I'm glad."
I was.
That was the worst part. I had never stopped being glad.
"Reed and I are going to get married," Cora said. "In June. After I'm strong enough."
I looked at Reed.
He stared at the floor tiles, and a muscle jumped in his jaw.
"Congratulations," I said.
"I'd love you to be there." Cora squeezed my hand. "I know things got ugly. But Mom says you can come if you apologize first."
"Apologize for what, exactly?"
"For not getting tested."
She said it so gently.
Reed shifted the bag on his shoulder. "Cora, you shouldn't be on your feet this long."
"I'm fine, silly."
She turned back to me, and her smile held.
Then she did something I did not expect.
She laid her palm flat against my left side, low down, over my shirt, over the exact place where the scar was.
I went completely still.
Her hand did not move.
"You're hurt?" my sister said.
Her eyes were wide and kind and very blue.
"It's nothing," I said. "I pulled a muscle."
"Poor thing," Cora said, and she left her hand there one second longer.
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