Humans were meek, and I was no exception. We were the only species that would crawl toward sustenance with so little nutritional value. Like a KitKat.
"What do you think you're doing?" my father demanded. I froze with the chocolate halfway to my face.
"Nothing?" I spoke. Dad slapped the candy to the white sheets of my hospital bed. "Hey!"
"They said no food."
"Chocolate isn't real food!"
"No. Food."
I smacked the sheets. "It looks like I shit myself!"
With a pointed look, he snatched the smeared chocolate bar, stalked over to the bin by the door, and tossed it. "I'm going to get coffee." He ran a hand down his face. "Don't do it again."
As soon as he left, I pulled another candy bar from my long white sock, grinning at it triumphantly.
Dad reappeared. I shoved half of it into my mouth before he stole the rest—and biffed it in the trash.
"I'm starving!"
He checked both my socks with a grimace before leaving again.
I was left alone in the little room with a little bed and a little TV up in the corner. The newscaster spoke of a storm hitting the coast in the morning. I wouldn't feel it—I'd be in surgery.
It was surreal, but there I was, prepped and primed to be cut open. The process had taken forever, and most of my summer. Saqui even said I was fast-tracked here at Saint Augustus. The liver biopsy had been the worst. I still panicked when I thought about it. Despite it all, everything had worked. Other than a low iron level a week ago because of my cycle, there hadn't been any problems. Smooth sailing, Saqui had said yesterday before he left me.
I ached to stop it and cry and scream and demand to go home. But I never did, so there I lay on Transplant Eve.
After ten minutes of listening to a meteorologist, Gabrielle popped her bright smile into the room holding a vase of little purple flowers.
"How are you feeling, honey?"
I fixed my face and grinned. "Ready."
"Oh, good," Gabrielle said. She clicked over in heels and a deep green skirt and blouse. She checked my forehead for a fever for whatever reason, then set the vase on my table. "What happened here?" she asked, pointing to my sheets.
"Dad," I grumbled. "I wish you'd brought a Big Mac. They're starving me." Gabrielle laughed, emotion locked into every note of it. The Williams arrived the night before and stayed with dad in our motel room. I'd been locked in this room forever. "Don't flowers come after I've survived?" I joked. Gabrielle scoffed, hitting my knee.
"Jeremiah loved flowers, you know. I'd bring them every day, all different kinds."
"Was he...here in Saint Augustus?"
"He was. Two weeks after the accident until..." She forced herself to grin. "Flowers made him smile. How rare that is in a place like this." But I was beginning to disagree. I'd smiled while joking with Doctor Saqui, while thinking about my little friend Graham, and while emailing Moe, whose kindness I'd never felt deserving of. Not to mention that the place was charged with Luke's life.
I reached for a delicate flower from the bouquet. Little pale purple flowers that couldn't pollinate on their own. They needed help from bees, whom they must've unconditionally treasured for their aid. I twirled the stem between my fingers, fighting back tears.
"Campanula americana," I said. "Bellflower. Thank you."
"You know them all." Gabrielle sat in the chair beside the bed. "I was hoping to catch you off guard with these little ones. I never had any true passions when I was your age. That's how I ended up at the bank. But no complaints." She leaned into the flowers, inhaling their fresh scent. "Your father had to come in eventually. It brought me my beautiful family."
I held my flower to my chest as Gabrielle set the vase on my little table.
"I think my mom loved her garden. Kind of like you. Sometimes I remember her big curly hair and an orange bandana in it, with flowers everywhere. Big violet ones." My heart slowed to a painful lug. "But I don't know if they're memories or dreams."
Gabrielle took my other hand. "They're pieces of you. They're real."
I twirled my flower as the evening sun streamed through the windows and hit the petals. They glowed lavender gold.
Squeezing my hand, Gabrielle said, "I thought we could talk about something." I raised my head. "Don't worry, it's not bad, and it's not about Lukas."
I gulped. "Okay."
"You have our full support in this," she began, "but we'd like you to do something for us as well."
"You want the other half of my liver?"
Gabrielle narrowed her eyes playfully. "No, no. Enzo and I were talking, and we think it would be nice for you to speak to someone. Starting in a few weeks maybe."
I pulled my hand from hers. "What?"
She took a breath. "You're a brick wall, honey. No one can be happy and open without offloading every now and then. We're not going to force you into anything, but we strongly suggest it."
"I don't need therapy," I stated. "I'm not insane."
"Kareena, there isn't an adult in this world who wouldn't benefit from a little help. To talk to someone without judgment. They're like professional listeners. Rue has been seeing someone since we lost Jeremiah. I've seen someone since I lost my father long before."
"Rue..." I shook my head. "She never told me."
"Only your father and I know, but she allowed me to tell you. It helps her to know she can talk to someone other than her family. She kept everything inside when she was a child." A sad smile found Gabrielle's lips. "She thought her sadness was contagious, so she didn't want me to see her cry."
I clammed up. The thought of therapy was scarier than the surgery.
"Kareena, do a little research. Its connotation isn't what you think. Wouldn't it be nice to talk to someone like Doctor Saqui every now and again?"
"Dad doesn't like him."
"You do, and that's what's important. You only have to think about it for now, okay?"
We both turned when my door opened.
Rue Williams had looked better.
I returned my little flower to the rest. Rue shuffled over in sweats and an old soccer shirt with long sleeves. She was still wearing that medal, and the chain, and her braids were pinned back revealing her bare face.
As Rue sat at the end of my bed, Gabrielle stood to leave, saying she was going to go track down my father.
"Luke is here," Rue said as soon as the door closed, fiddling with her hands.
"I know."
Luke was air-lifted here a few days ago. Dad tried to force me to see him, but I refused. Doctor Saqui had my back, which only made dad more opposed to his presence.
"You go to therapy?" I blurted. Rue nodded. "And it's...fine?"
"Makes it all...lighter."
"That wouldn't be horrible," I admitted. Rue stared at her chewed fingernails, picking the skin around them.
"I saw Luke," she said. "He's awake again. Are you going to go see him?"
"After," I said.
Rue's voice cracked. "But what if it doesn't work?" She looked up at me with glazed eyes. "I keep thinking..." She squeezed her eyes shut, then whispered, "What if he does it again?"
It would've been a lie to say I hadn't thought of that.
Rue slowly breathed in, then out, controlling herself. "Kareena? Are you scared?"
"No," I said quickly.
"How? How are you not scared?"
I put on a grin. "Are you trying to freak me out?"
"He said he didn't want to wake up," she whispered through trembling lips, "so I asked him if he wanted to die. And he said no. But he said the pain was gone when he was sleeping. I was so angry, Kareena. At him. So angry that I forgot what happened to him and that...maybe it would be better to sleep than live with that. Maybe I'd do the same."
"Rue—"
"I don't want him to go," she choked. "I know it's selfish, but I'd rather have him here, even if it hurts him." When Rue broke down crying, I opened my arms. She laid with me until her breathing evened out. I felt every ounce of gratitude seep from her chest into mine as she slept, never letting go.
~
Gabrielle took Rue back to the motel for rest. My father refused to leave my side. He was sleeping in the chair in the corner, in the calm dark of night. The sun had set long ago, but my mind had not.
For hours, my heart had been dangerously elevated. I told the nurses I was excited. They didn't buy it. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. They were too cold. Everything felt wrong.
When I could barely breathe, I slipped out of bed onto my socked feet and tiptoed to the door in the dark. I was out into the dim hall in a second, carefully closing the door until it clicked.
It was disconcerting how empty the wing was. It must have been a graveyard shift.
My stomach gurgled and my hospital gown scratched as I padded around, looking for the phone I saw a few days ago. In the dimmed, off-blue light, I found the black receiver locked into the wall and the dial pad gleaming silver. I took the handle, touched the piece to my ear and dialled New Hampshire Information using the star button. An elderly lady's shaky voice asked for my inquiry. I said I needed the Cameron residence in South Seabrook. Apparently, there were many, so I told her about the lake at the end of County Road 753.
"I'd got it, deary. Please hold." Then she was gone, and the phone rang. I held my breath.
It rang and rang and rang. It rang and rang some more. And no one answered.
I hung up, fighting the urge to rip the phone from the cord.
After a few breaths, I dialled a new number.
"Hello?" came a groggy voice. My entire body relaxed, and I sank to the frigid floor, tugging the long looping cord.
"Hey Benjamin. It's Kareena."
"Kareena? Where you callin' from?"
I cocooned my arms around my body, setting my healed temple to my knee. "Concord."
"Ah, right. Moe Moe told me about your trip."
I bit my lip. "Listen, I know it's late, but could you put him on?"
"Yeah, no problem. He's been reading that book you got him, eh? Loves it. I got him a few more by the same author. Loves 'em. I actually had no idea about most of that stuff. Did you know Playboy prints in braille? Like, that's wild to me, and frankly, I kinda wanna learn braille. I thought about taking a course through—"
"Is Moe there?"
Moe's boyfriend whined about how snappy I was before the cords sizzled through the receiver.
"Benjamin orders you to be nicer," Moe greeted.
"Hey, Moe," I said with a grin. I fiddled with the cord and kicked my legs out. "How are you doing? How's the shop? How's Chubs?"
"I relayed all three answers in my last email," he said. "How are you Kareena?"
"Um, I'm still sorry about before. When I yelled. At Freya's trailer."
"You have apologized for that day sixteen separate times in person by email and over the phone."
"Right. Um, okay. I may have lied a little about my trip to Concord."
"You are not completing a forensic botanical investigation internship with the Concord Police Bureau."
"Uh..." I cringed at the way it sounded. "No."
"Yes I knew that was not true."
I paused. "What do you mean?"
"The Concord Police Bureau does not have a botanical unit. However there are many other districts within the state of New Hampshire that—"
"Why the hell didn't you say anything?" I demanded with wide eyes.
"You are going to tell me now," he said simply. My eyes narrowed.
"So you know everything?"
"I would not say—"
"Never mind. Don't answer that."
"Okay."
Everything spilled out after that. Luke's overdose, the weeks in the hospital, the tests, and my not-so-heroic endeavour to finally, finally help him.
"You should never eat before surgery," Moe said.
"Are you kidding me?" I sputtered through a laugh. "Out of everything I told you?"
"I want you to be safe," he said.
"Thanks, Moe Moe."
"Benjamin is the only person to call me Moe Moe. You call me Moe."
I smirked and wiped my cheeks. "Fine."
"You are crying."
I laughed, sniffling. "I'm not doing so well, to be honest."
"Do not undergo surgery."
I sighed up at the shadowed ceiling. "It's not that simple. I need you to talk me into it."
"Undergo the surgery," he said. I rolled my eyes.
"Okay, um...It's only a little piece, right? Like, it will grow back." I shuddered at the thought. "Shit. That's horrific."
"The only organ in the human body that is capable of regeneration is the liver. Do not undergo surgery to donate an organ that cannot regenerate."
"I'll do my brain next."
"No."
"You know, my advocate said there's around an eighty percent chance I'll be perfectly fine."
"Freya says grades below 93% are unsatisfactory."
My eyes filled with tears. "Liar. Freya wouldn't accept anything below 95%. She's going to Berkshire College for God's sake."
"She is going to the University of California Berkeley."
"Whatever."
"She packed two suitcases and one duffle bag this morning while she told me about the hike she completed with you and the kiss you shared with the pine needles."
My chest caved in. "Oh."
"Do you miss her?" asked Moe.
"Will you tell her my answer?"
"Yes."
My lips tilted up. "You're a good friend, Moe."
"You are also a good friend. But Benjamin doesn't like you."
Another laugh bubbled up from my throat. "Tell him I know he bleaches the tips of his hair and it's not the sun."
Moe's voice was distant as he repeated my words for his boyfriend. A few muffled curses followed before Moe was back.
"He did not like that.".
"Well—" I closed my mouth as my blue-haired nurse strolled down the hall. When she spotted me, she placed her hands on her hips.
"Bed," ordered Zoë.
"Moe, I got caught. I have to go."
"I will email you tomorrow and if you do not answer me then I will know the surgery was not successful and if you do then I will know it was successful."
A choked laugh fell from my lips. "Solid plan."
~
The sun rose dazzlingly the next morning. My father barely kept it together. The surgeon's smile was warm, and his scalpels winked under the light, but the bubble-gum mist made everything go away. So I let go.