Fingers?
I’ve got plenty to spare. Their sole purpose is to hold her now.
A new brain?
She consumes my thoughts.
Eyes?
Mine are only for her.
Heart?
Shefuckinghas it already.
An age gap seems trivial when you consider that one of the participants might have their life span drastically shortened. Why worry about fifteen years when Maggie might not even have that amount of time, or at least not live it fully in the way that she deserves?
I’ve lived my life—I’ve traveled, loved, and lost. Maggie, on the other hand, has so much left to experience and achieve. If I could give my whole life to her, I would do so without a second thought.
She already has my heart; what’s a few more organs to lose?
Chapter 33 – Maggie
August... Three weeks later?
Physically, I feel great.
The birds are chirping, and the oppressive, Texas summer heat is finally showing signs of letting up. My body is no longer as sore as it was just two weeks ago after the surgery. The doctor had mentioned I’d be back to feeling one hundred percent in four to six weeks post op, but here I am, only two weeks in, and already I feel incredible. The difference is truly astounding.
I had no idea how poorly my kidneys had been functioning for so long. The gradual decline had led me to believe it was just a normal part of my condition and the symptoms I’d been living with, though horrible, had gone mostly unnoticed largely thanks to the distraction of spending my summer wrapped up in Clay.
The doctor informed me that my donor was a perfect match, and I should be able to live the rest of my life without needing another transplant. This was the best possible news I could have hoped for, even better than learning they’d found a match for meso quickly. Frankly, I’d heard stories of patients waiting for years on the recipient list before being matched and I’d prepared for that the day I'd been admitted.
My dad said it was like my mom was watching over me, guiding the donor directly to me at the right moment. I liked imagining that. Considering that she’d helped orchestrate an opportunity for me to live a full life. While there’s still the lingering risk of my condition affecting other parts of my body in the future, today, I feel healthy and happy.
That is, physically.
Mentally and emotionally, I’m a total mess.
Ever since my surgery, Clay has been by my side through every step of my recovery. The transplant had happened fast—just two days from finding a match to the actual operation. When I woke up on that Sunday, still groggy from the anesthesia and weak, Clay was there, smiling, holding my hand, and reassuring me with a kiss.
“Shouldn’t you be at your tournament?”I’d asked, confused.
He’d shaken his head, a soft smile playing on his lips.“Disqualified on a technicality.”
Even in my drugged-up haze, I remembered feeling heartbroken for him. Tears filled my eyes as I clung to him, my emotions raw and overwhelming.
“But you worked so hard for this. How could they disqualify you? That’s not fair! You were in first place!”
Clay hadn’t looked at me with frustration or disappointment. His eyes were steady, filled with nothing but love and understanding. And then he said words that would stay with me for the rest of my life.
“It was never about winning for me. It was about proving to myself that I could do it, no matter what the obstacles. That I could push through the challenges and come out stronger. Work through painand disappointment and be a better version of myself after. And I did. That’s enough for me.”
I held tightly to those words as I went home to my dad’s house to recover, inching closer each day to my return to Houston and the completion of my own dream that I’d nurtured for years. Finishing my X-ray tech program.
The thought of leaving felt daunting, especially with the uncertainty hanging over Clay and me. My dad was understandably anxious about my recent surgery, while Clay seemed to handle me with kid gloves, tiptoeing around me and avoiding the touch and affection I still craved. This was exactly why I had hesitated to share my condition with him. I didn’t want to feel set apart, but I now saw how much I had unintentionally hurt him by keeping it a secret, so I allowed him to treat me like glass the way he wanted.
Fortunately, my school had granted me a one-week deferral for the start of classes, allowing me to avoid missing the entire semester. So today, with Clay having packed my car for me, I was ready to head back to Houston and finish the fall semester.
