Simon was in the front seat. Marta was in the back beside Dylan. Dylan had Earl in his lap. Dylan was eleven years old and had been told that morning he was getting on a plane to Philadelphia today and would have a heart from a girl named Lily.
We didn't speak much in the car.
I told Marta where to find the car-rental shuttle and told Simon the gate. Their flight was a little under two hours.
We pulled up to departures, and I helped them with the bags.
We walked through the terminal.
At the gate, while Marta was checking that they had Dylan's medication in the right pocket, I asked Simon to walk with me to the window.
Simon walked.
We stood at the window, looking out onto the tarmac.
"Simon, I need to tell you something I haven't told you yet."
"Alright."
"The donor."
He looked at me. "Tell me."
"You told me about her. Her name is Lily, right? So she is twelve. She was at Langone Health in a coma for some months, and her parents signed the papers this morning. Her heart is being matched to your son's profile."
Simon was very still. His eyes went past me, then to a point somewhere on the floor of the gate area, to the wall, then back to me. His hand came up to the back of his neck, and it stayed there.
"Mr. Cross, I — "
"Simon, I did this because of you, because you sat in my hospital corridor with a folder and you told me about your son. Because you told me about Lily. You did this. I just made phone calls."
Simon looked at me. "Mr. Cross, don’t be ridiculous. We did this together, and I couldn’t thank you enough and Lily and her family. I thought I lost all hope. Thank you for making this happen."
He extended his hand, shook it, and gave me a brief hug.
Marta called Simon, and they went to the gate. Dylan turned and waved at me.
I waved back.
The Kesslers went through the gate, and I watched them leave.
I had done the right thing, but some of the guilt remained.
It was going to remain until Sabrina took it from me.
22.Sabrina
Bonnie woke up the morning after.
She was groggy, with tubes in places, but the pink color in her cheeks was the first real sign of life I’d recognized in her.
She looked at me. "Mom."
"Hi, baby."
"I'm thirsty."
"I’ll get some water for you, baby."
