The Donor (The Full Novella) (12 page)

There’s a dull ache behind my eye as I wait alone on the couch.

***

I woke up on the sofa by myself and my head was killing me. My mouth was dry, my eyeballs ached, and my stomach felt hollow and empty. It wasn't the pain I had become accustomed to with the tumor; this was something completely different.

Jonah came into the room and set a glass of water on the table. “Sorry,” he said. “I meant to make you drink more water last night.”

Sitting up slowly, I took the water and drank it even slower. “My first hangover,” I said flatly.

He laughed a little. “Glad I could contribute to this special occasion.”

Jonah sat down next to me and placed a hand on my knee. “I'm sorry I let you drink that much,” he said. “I wasn't in the right frame of mind either.”

I shrugged. “I wanted to,” I said. “Not many chances for that.”

A crinkling sound and Jonah was handing me something. “Here, it'll help your stomach.”

I took the handful of crackers from him and chewed them; swallowing them took a lot of effort, but once I had I felt a lot better. “Thanks,” I said.

Jonah sat down next to me, covering me with a dark grey afghan that hung over the back of the couch. I rested my head against his chest and his chin sat atop my head as his arms brought me even closer. Although he was still wearing the same clothes he fell asleep in, he smelled clean. I couldn’t place the scent, but it reminded me of freshly fallen snow.  Inhaling deeply, I could feel my headache disappearing, my stomach settling. A gentle hand stroked up and down my back.

“I upset you,” he said. “Last night.”

I remembered how he didn’t kiss me. How much it hurt. I gulped. “I…” I said into his shirt.  The back of my throat tasted bitter and dry. “I don't understand,” I said. “You want me but you don’t?”

Jonah pulled away slightly so he could shift his eyes to me. They were completely clear. “I just don't want to make things worse for you.”

“You won't.” I took his hand and placed in on my knee, his fingers gently resting there.

I saw him clench his jaw. “I already have.”

I moved over, completely unashamed of how I was literally throwing myself at him. We were wasting too much time discussing the moral implications of our decisions without saying a word about them and I couldn't take it anymore. “You've taken care of me,” I said, my breath warm as I kissed his cheek. He didn't pull away. “You've treated me like I'm normal… ”

I felt him take in a breath, like he was about to argue or prepare to go under water for an extended period of time, but I stopped him with a kiss and his body relaxed against mine.

“…Until now,” I said. “Please don't stop...” I whispered into his ear. “Please don't treat me like I'm dying now.”

Something seemed to register on his face then, like I had shocked him with my touch. Sitting in his lap, he wrapped his arms around my waist and finally kissed me.

***

“So let me get this straight,” Dad says, coming from the bedroom and sitting in his recliner once more. Now he’s wearing a clean T-shirt and the only pair of jeans he owns that doesn’t have holes in them. “You met this guy for a job and now you’re together?”

I guess the time it took him to change was enough time to think about the situation. “Yeah,” I say. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

Dad shakes his head. “You’re nineteen, Casey,” he says. “You’re too young for him.”

I’m too young for a lot of things.

“You’ll like him,” I say. “I promise.”

The clock on the cable box blinks. The power must have gone out while I was away and I was the only one who’d notice and fix the time.

“It’s not that I don’t trust your judgment,” he says. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

It occurs to me that no, I still don’t know what I’m doing. I wonder if I ever will, if it even matters.

***

I didn't realize Jonah was lifting me in his arms until we were half way up the stairs. I let him carry me. I let him set me down on the bed in his room. I didn't let him move away from me.

He tried to stand up once I was sitting, half-lying on the clean white comforter, but I pulled at his shirt collar, giving him no choice but to stay right where he was. He kissed me again and this time, it was urgent, searching, exploring, and I gave it back to him. It was like we were trying to find something but we both weren't sure what it was.

Jonah took my hands in his and placed them at my sides, squeezing them like he was scared. I was a little scared too, but I didn't let it stop me. Fear was something I knew. Something I had to face every day since I had received the phone call that sentenced me to two months of life. Fear of leaving my family, fear of never accomplishing anything, fear of dying, fear of leaving.

This fear was something I could deal with. Something I could use and transform into something that was fully mine.

Jonah traced the curve of my neck with one hand, stopping at the edge of my shirt before he removed it, slipping it gently over my head. I fumbled with the buttons on his shirt as we both laughed and actually banged heads once, but together we managed to free him of it.

I had never seen a naked man before. Not in person. In a movie, sure, probably. But this wasn't a movie. There would be no fairy tale ending, there would be no soundtrack playing us out as the credits rolled. This was real and raw and for the first time, that's exactly what I wanted.

I had spent so long floating, trying to figure out my next move, but here, I didn't need to worry about it. I didn't have to think about the future or close myself off from thinking about it completely. We were both here, in this moment, and that's all that mattered.

Jonah kissed a trail down my chest, stomach and hips. I watched the muscles in his back expand and contract and his arms worked to unzip my pants. I didn't even think twice about it. I let him do it, and then he let me do the same to him.

I don't know how long we were in his room, as light flooded though and the seahorse bobbed up and down in the tank in the corner. He kissed me again, and when I needed air, he let me have it.

He guided me further onto the bed, grabbing me around the waist so swiftly that a girl-like giggle escaped me. He laughed too, kissing my neck, setting fire to that spot until I could no longer breathe.

“Jonah,” I said on a breath. If we kept doing this, I wasn't going to be able to stop. I didn't know why I would want to, but I knew it all the same. I expected that at any minute I would start to feel sick again, get a nosebleed just as things were starting to get good. Maybe it would be best if I told him to stop, if we only left it here. But instead of saying stop, I said, “Please.”

Jonah let go of my hands and placed his arms on either side of my head, caging me in. He stared down at me as I wrapped my arms around his back, smiling, really smiling when he smoothed some hair from my face.

“I've wanted to do this,” he whispered. “For a very, very long time.”

I smiled against his lips, pulling him closer to me as we both sank into the mattress. We didn't say anything after that; the tank across the room and our breathing were the only sounds.

***

Jonah arrives sooner than I was expecting. I open the door to find him standing on the porch, flowers in hand, smile on face. I want to say something to him but I can't find the words.

“Would you like to come in?” is all I can manage.

He nods.

I step aside and let him inside our trailer. Mom and Dad are sitting in the kitchen now, so I start to lead Jonah there when he grabs my arm. I turn to face him and he stares right back at me. One look can convey all of the things we had already done, all of the things that lie ahead, and all of the things we’re both afraid of but can't say.

I kiss him and smile. “My parents want to meet you,” I say, grabbing his hand.

Mom and Dad look up when we enter the kitchen. Jonah shakes Dad's hand and gives the flowers to Mom. We sit at the table and Mom makes coffee.

I can't concentrate on the conversation, too distracted by the clicking of the clock on the wall. I don't know how much time I have with Jonah, in this easy state, before we have to part again, spiraling off into our own lives and figuring out what comes next.

“So how long are you staying in California?” Mom asks, breaking me out of my thoughts. My parents look like they have instantly warmed up to Jonah, all thoughts of some older man taking advantage of their daughter seemingly vanished.

“A few days,” he says. “I'm visiting family.”

“I’m sure you’ve had time to see the sights too,” Dad says.

Mom butts in. “I'm sure he's very busy, honey.”

Jonah grabs my hand on top of the table. “Actually,” he says. “Casey was telling me about the aquarium here. That she goes every year?”

Mom smiles, unable to be rude to this man she’s just met. “Yes,” she says. “Ever since she was little.”

He fake-checks his watch. “I'd hate to steal her from you when she hasn't been home all that long...”

Dad finishes for him. “Go!” he says enthusiastically. “We get her all year ‘round. Who knows when you guys'll have time together again?”

I try not to read too much into Dad's words, but it’s hard. Time is running out. For me. For Jonah. For both of my parents.

I look to Mom, who’s trying to keep her expression blank, but I can tell she’s a little upset.

“I'll be back in a few hours,” I say, glancing at Jonah who smiles. “Right?”

He nods. “Promise.”

“You should come back afterwards too. Tell us what you think,” Dad says to him. “Right, honey?” he directs at Mom.

She takes a sip of her coffee and gives us a smile. “Sure!” she says a little too loudly. “We'd love to have you, Jonah.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Williams,” he says

Not wanting to waste any more time, I grab Jonah’s hand and lead him to stand.

“You two have fun,” Dad calls after us as I follow Jonah down the steps to his car, which looks beyond out of place in our driveway.

Once we’re in the car, Jonah starts the ignition and takes a breath. I think for a second that he’s about to say something about the situation, how he’s scared, how I’m scared, how he wishes things could just stand still for a little while, but instead he places a hand on my knee and says, “Where to?” with a smile.

***

I woke up some hours later, half expecting everything to spiral out of control, for a headache or nosebleed, or another seizure or something even more awful. But none of that happened. There was late afternoon sun shining though the many windows around us, Jonah had his arm wrapped around my waist, and my head was settled against one of the soft pillows. I didn't remember falling asleep, but now I was covered with a sheet. The rest of the blankets had gotten torn off of the bed somehow and they lay rumpled on the floor. My cheeks flushed when I saw that Jonah was not covered, just curled up beside me, his head nestled between my neck and shoulder.

I reached down and grabbed the comforter off of the floor, trying to disturb him as  little as possible. I managed to cover him up with one hand. Not because I didn't want to look at him, but because he had taken the time before he fell asleep to take care of me. I thought of how he must always be trying to take care of people and failing. I wondered if anyone ever stopped to make sure he was okay. Covering him with a blanket was small in the scope of things, but it was a start. I could be that for him.

He wrapped his arm tighter around my middle and I leaned my head against his, content to feel his soft breath on my cheek as I drifted in and out. I stared at the tank with groggy eyes, unaware of the location of the lone seahorse inside, but knowing it was there was enough.

The next time I awoke, it was because my phone was buzzing on the nightstand. I rolled over to find that it was dark outside and Jonah was gone, but I could hear water running across the hall. There was a text from my mom. We had spoken on the phone every once in a while, but we were both busy, so we kept to texting. It was also easier to lie if she couldn’t hear my voice.

Mom:
How is everything sweetie? I feel like I haven't talked to you in so long.

Me:
Good.

I didn't know what else to say. I sat up straighter, flipping my messy hair from my face.

Mom:
We're so happy you'll be home soon. Dad's driving me up the wall. He says you're a better cook than I am. Can you believe that?

I laughed quietly to myself, realizing just how much I missed them. I cooked for Dad in between my lunch break and going back to work most days, and last time I had burned soup on the stove, having to go to the grocery store and buy pre-made sandwiches instead. I remember Dad laughing at my humiliation that I couldn't even manage a can of soup for him. Then he hugged me and told me I took good care of him.