The Transplant ✔️

9. They Meet Again

Jolie's POV:

Today was the day I was going to meet my mysterious, psychotic donor. The reason I say psychotic is because no one in their perfectly functioning state of mind would donate a seemingly vital part of their body to a stranger.

With much preparation that goes into getting a transplant, my doctor feels it's necessary that the two of us meet him in his office to discuss the process of doing such a procedure.

"Mom, could you drive a little slower? I'm a little nervous." I sat in the passenger seat of my mom's vehicle, getting ready to head onto the interstate to get to our designated hospital. Usually, I'd give anything for my mother to step on the gas, but with the current circumstances, I'd rather hit the slowest, longest train to keep us from the hospital.

I should be happy that I was being given the chance for a new life, but a part of me can't let go of the thought that something will end up going massively wrong.

"Honey, I'm already going below the speed limit. Any slower and I'll have to get in the bike lane." She laughed.

"But Mom..."

"No buts, Jolie. What is with you; why are you so nervous? We are only going to talk to the doctor; the procedure isn't today so there is nothing to stress about right now." Easy for her to say. Mom didn't have an overactive, anxiety-filled brain lile I did.

"I guess you might be right, but it still doesn't calm my nerves." My hands were shaky and cold, a usual symptom of my built-up fright. I kept my hands under my legs to control them as we drove.

"I will be with you through every step of the way." My mom's hand reached over to my side as she egged for my hand. It was crazy how a little support could go a long way. I felt an ease in heart rate and an increase in body temperature as she soothingly rubbed my hand. I was still very nervous, but knowing that my mother would never leave my side was as comforting as it could get.

"Alright, let's get this done with." With little enthusiasm, I strained my voice into sounding the least bit content with the ongoing situation.

It didn't take long for us to pull off on an exit and make our way to the hospital. Instead of going through the usual hassle of finding a parking spot in such a cluttered area, Mom allowed the valet parkers to do it for us. She tried to slip one of the hard workers a twenty dollar bill for thanks, but when he refused the tip because of his boss, she practically forced it down his pants like a stripper.

"Mom, can you stop? You're embarrassing him." I grabbed my mother's hand, leaning her under the walkway while the man finally parked our car.

"Sorry, I just hate to see young men working and not getting paid for their job." She said.

"They are technically getting paid; they're not allowed tips because they get paid so well." I tried to explain.

"Huh, I never thought of it that way. Either way, I should be allowed to show my appreciation the way I feel necessary, regardless on pay." She answered thoughtfully.

The both of us grew mute as we scurried in the building, a rush of cool air refreshing us on the way in.

"I'm going talk to the secretary to see where your doctor wants to meet us." Mom found herself in line behind a chatty visitor, while I sat in the waiting room, fighting the urge to raid the candy machine.

I took a seat in a green, puffy chair that literally sucked me in the minute I sat down.

I busied myself with a few magazines, then switched to my phone for proper entertainment. I played a few nonsense games, then stopped short when I heard the pattering of feet.

I slightly look up without moving my head, noticing a quite familiar man situated in the seat in front of me, his huge tennis shoes not bothering to extend into my foot space.

I take another peak, realizing where I had seen this tall guy before. He was the douche bag who was sitting on top of his truck with his high-strung girlfriend, and his buddy who didn't know the legal limits of harassment.

I tried to keep my attention on my phone, but the constant shaking from his feet vibrated the ground and my chair with it. If I didn't say something soon, in my fragile state, I was going to feel the nausea creep through my body.

"Would you mind, oh I don't know, backing off and giving me some space?" I blurted out.

"Oh, what's the name? Jolie, right? I remember you." His blue eyes casted am undeniabld smile, even if his actual grin was incognito. His lips were firm in their stable position, barely moving to speak. He must not be too thrilled to be here today.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't greeting you. I was asking if you could move your feet." I was going to say 'big' feet for more dramatic effect, but he might find that to be a compliment.

His shoes skidded across the floor and closer to his body, a crooked smile finally appearing.

"Feisty, I see. My name's Jobe Boston, nice to meet you too." A total disregard for what I had just finished telling him.

"How fortunate to be in your presence again." I rolled my eyes. Jobe must have been cut off guard, his facial expressions showing dear astonishment that such a 'stiff' could speak this way.

"Glad you feel that way." He smirked.

"Are you too ignorant to know I was using sarcasm?" I crossed my arms, , Jobe reflecting my motions.

"Are you too ignorant to know I was responding with sarcasm?"

I bit my tongue, holding myself back from pouncing on this jerk. Unlike his friend Andy, Jobe had some decent comebacks. He wasn't as uneducated as I assumed he would be.

We were in a stare - off, both of us calm and quiet, but both as challenging as the other. I wasn't sure why we were in competition, but I didn't plan on losing. That is, if my crazy mother didn't show up.

I finally blinked, deciding it was best to end this charade anyway.

"What, Mom?" I asked, ill-tempered.

"Oh Jolie, I see you've already met your donor!" My donor? There's no one in this room besides my mom, me, and... oh no. My finger twitched towards Jobe, hoping she'd say no, but no answer came.

"No way, nope. I'm leaving." I pulled myself with the weight of my arms, landing on my feet.

"What, honey, no. What's wrong?" My mom caught my arm, keeping me from leaving the waiting room.

"Wait, you're the girl who needs a transplant? No effing way." Jobe stayed unmoving in his chair.

"No way? Looks like there is something we agree on. There's no way I'm getting a kidney from you; one that's probably more diseased than mine."

His face fixated in shock, along with my mother's.

"Jolie, do not speak like that!" Mom cried aloud.

I ignored my frantic mother and turned to Jobe.

"Why? It's true. I would never, ever get a transplant from you. This is all a joke to you, isn't it? You only want to pretend like you're okay with giving a kidney, then turn around and laugh when you change your mind. I'm getting out of here with what's left of my dignity."

You know that feeling I had that something was going to go horribly wrong? Well, I think the mystery was solved.