Chapter 7: Find the Hero

On Thursday night Justin and I sat in a booth at an all-night diner near the hospital, and neither of us was calling it a date.

"It's a post-op nutrition check," he said, and slid the menu across.

"You're blushing, Doctor."

"I'm tired. I came off a twelve-hour shift."

"You've gone pink to the ears."

"That's the lighting."

I laughed, and my side pulled, and I put a hand on it.

His eyes followed the hand and came back up, careful and a little rueful.

The waitress brought two coffees, though mine was decaf, and turned up the television bolted over the counter.

"Local news, in a minute," she said. "There's a thing about a girl who got a kidney."

I felt Justin go still across from me.

"We can leave," he said.

"No."

"Cosima."

"I want to see how she tells it."

The anchor came on, bright and sympathetic, and then the picture changed to a living room I knew.

My parents' couch.

Cora sat in the middle of it, in a soft white blouse, with her hair over one shoulder.

My mother sat on her right with a tissue in her hand.

My father, home from the hospital that morning, sat on her left.

Reed stood behind the couch with his hands on Cora's shoulders.

I looked at the whole picture for a long time.

There was no chair for anyone else.

"Cora Daugherty is twenty-five years old," the anchor said. "Two weeks ago she received a kidney from an anonymous living donor."

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