The Transplant ✔️

44. Last Hoo-rah

Jobe's POV:

After much time, few hours of sleep, and several bags of chips later, we were in Houston. Finally, with one day until the transplant, Jolie and I were anxious. My anxiety was focused all on Jolie. I didn't care how much I hurt after the surgery or what I'd have to go through. Making sure my kidney wasn't rejected was my own priority.

"What if something happens? What if the surgery is postponed, or worse, the electricity goes off during the procedure?" Jolie sat Indian Style on the bed in our hotel room. I was bordeline going crazy with her questions.

"Nothing will be postponed, and the electricity won't go off. If it does, that's what backup generators are for. I promise, things will be more than fine."

"Sure?" She asked.

"Yes. Look, I think we are both on edge. How about we do something instead staying cooped in here?" I offered.

"Like what?"

"What do you mean, like what? Hand me your itinerary and let's put that bad boy to use. I can't stay in this room any longer."

Sliding across the bed, Jolie grabbed her backpack and searched for her notebook, handing me her itinerary.

I looked through the words written in script, scanning through the numerous activities, mumbling the words to myself.

"Going shopping, going to a local museum. Boring, and boring. Oh, here's one: going on a bike tour."

"Yeah, I figured a bike tour would be a relaxing exercise. How about Houston's downtown architecture tour? I know how you like building things, so what do you think?" She asked.

"It's a great plan. Let's get going."

**

Saddened and milled with discomfort, I had to ride a pink bike for the architecture tour. Since we didn't book in advance, the only available bikes left were pink. Riding on pink, and restricted to wearing a helmet thanks to the tour guide, I looked like a four year old version of myself.

"Looking good. You're really going to catch some ladies like that."

"Haha, very funny." I grimaced, sending Jolie a death glare as we readied ourselves for our tour.

"Oh, look, who's that? I think I spotted a girl in her Barbie jeep honking. She said she wants her bike back." Jolie giggled, grabbing onto her handle bar and tapping it multiple times to contain her self.

"Alright, enough of that." I said flatly.

"Don't be upset; it could be worse. The guy in the front has a worse bike than us. He's going to alert traffic with that construction bike." She was right. The guy in front of the crowd had an orange bike, and a matte blue helmet, the color of a tarp.

"Eh, you might be right."

After a time of waiting in the beating sun, the gang started to pedal down the angular road, listening closely to the tour guide for directions. I had never been a big city. Country living was how I was raised, and busy, crowded cities had never been my style.

I pedaled alongside Jolie, who like me, was astounded by city life, but we were intrigued by this completely different world. I mean, I love to visit places like Houston, but I'd never want to live in a hustle and bustle area. Without a tour guide, I'd get lost in such a big city, with skyscrapers around every turn.

I found myself having to pedal faster, Jolie's strong thighs working those pedals. I was sweating trying to keep up, a drop of sweat falling onto the tip of my nose. Jolie was sweating too, her hair damp against her forhead round cheeks a blotchy crimson. Even in her overheated condition, she was beautiful.