She smiles and walks around my bed, rolling it sideways gently so it’s closer to Jake. Yesterday when we checked in they put us in different rooms beside each other, but I requested in post-op that we be placed together because I read they can do that with donors and recipients who are known to each other.
As the nurse walks away to get me some water, I carefully slip my hand through the rails on the side of my bed and lay it on top of his where it rests above the covers. He feels warm but his hand is limp, and I don’t like it. I have this overwhelming irrational need for him to wake up.
“Jake… can you hear me?” I say, my voice still raw. “Can you wake up please before I freak out and pop my stitches or something?”
Nothing.
“I assure you, he’s good,” the nurse promises as she arrives back at my side and hands me the teeniest cup of water I’ve ever seen. “You can only have it in little doses because after anesthesia too much liquid or anything at once can make you vomit.”
I swallow down the shooter-sized amount of room temperature water. Better than nothing, I guess. I thank her and hand her back the cup and my eyes go to Jake. “Do you have a rough idea of when he will wake up?”
“Should be any time now,” she replies. “Don’t worry. Your boyfriend is in good hands.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say softly and then I feel his hand move undermine. I snap my head around to face him and instantly regret the fast motion.
“Tink…” his voice is just as hoarse and rough as mine, but the sound of it makes me cry.
“Jake. Welcome back,” The nurse turns toward his bed and walks over to the other side, so as not to disrupt our hands, which are now joined because he’s turned his around and laced our fingers.
“How do you feel?” I whisper.
“Okay. How are you?” Jake asks. “Did it work? Is everything good?”
“They say yes,” I reply and he blinks away his grogginess a little more and notices my wet cheeks. His dark eyes fill with concern. “Are you in pain? What’s wrong?”
“I’m just so relieved you’re awake,” I whisper.
“I’m not going anywhere, Tink,” he promises, and a drowsy smile pulls at his lips. “I have to stick around and convince you to let people think I’m your boyfriend.”
My heartbeat suddenly gets stronger. “Is that what you want people to think?”
“That’s what I want the truth to be.”
The surgeon comes over and asks Jake the same questions she asked me and then she says, “Your family is anxious to see you both, so we’ll call some orderlies and move you back into your own rooms.”
I feel instantly disappointed. I want to stay here holding Jake’s hand until they send us home. Jake must feel the same way because he replies. “Can we take our time on that part? I kind of like it here.”
He squeezes my hand. I close my eyes, a smile on my lips, and revel in the feel of our intertwined hands. I must have dozed off because the next thing I know, my arm is tucked under the sheets on my gurney and I’m being wheeled into my own room. Damnit.
My mother, Declan and Nova are there to greet me, all smiling but on the verge of tears. I know it’s from relief. I feel it too. Although, my battle is far from over. There’s anti-rejection meds and a risk of infection and a whole bunch of other things to deal with now. My mom pushes my hair off my forehead and places a kiss there. “Dad and the twins are in Jake’s room. We will switch after half an hour.”
I smile and nod, relieved they aren’t all in here with me. And then I see someone in the corner of the room that makes me think maybe the Tramadol drip is a little too generous and I’m hallucinating. Is that… Tom?
“The doc says everything went really well,” Declan tells me. “And Jake is doing great too.”
“I know. I was with him in recovery,” I reply and Tom stands up and walks over. Now he’s standing next to Nova, and I swear I would think I’m imagining it except my mom acknowledges his existence.
“Tom wanted to see how you were doing,” she explains. “He called me last night to see if he could come and sit with us while the operation went on, and of course we said yes.”
She leans over the side of my bed to glance over at him and smile. He smiles back but his eyes dart back to me. “Terra, I… I know you need rest right now but hopefully we can talk maybe in a couple of days?”
“Maybe,” I reply my tone flat and noncommittal because I don’t want to talk to him about anything. “I am really tired right now and would like to rest.”
“Of course. I just had to know you were through everything,” Tom says and pats my hand. I’m irrationally angry for a moment that he touched the hand that was laced with Jake’s earlier. “I left you some flowers over there.” He points to the vase of carnations on the window ledge.
I muster a smile. He pats my hand again and heads out. Nova scowls at his back as he goes, but Ma looks absolutely dreamy-eyed. Oh great. This is the last thing I need. My mom loves Tom more than anyone because he goes to church. Every now and then he would get up early when he was spending the weekend and go with her, and I would meet them later for brunch. Much to mom’s dismay, none of her kids kept up the church thing—or religion for that matter—once we turned eighteen and couldn’t be forced to go. I never told Ma that Tom ran like a bitch over the kidney problems, but now I realize I should have. She wouldn’t have forgiven him that, but she thinks we just had a tiff or something and she is all about the second chance romance. That’s what my dad was for her.
Once Tom is gone Declan says, “Do you want us to leave you alone to sleep too?”
