Page 100 of The Doctor's Truth

IV

The Truth: January, 2019

49

Donovan

Kenzi doesn’t leave Otto’s side.

I do everything I can to ease his discomfort and flush the infection from his system, but in the end, it comes back to the same result: he needs a new kidney. Fast.

When I work, it’s through a haze. All I can think about is Otto.

I barely register when, halfway through my shift, Leonard King comes up to me and taps me on the arm.

“Donovan. A moment.”

I follow the other man to his office. I’ve worked in this hospital for almost ten years, but I could probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve been inside Mr. King’s office. He’s in his own tower, cut away from the rest of the hospital.

I’m immediately uncomfortable, but I sit down across from him anyway.

Sharks can smell fear. I don’t want him to catch the scent.

He presses his fingertips together, tenting his hands. “How is Kenzi’s boy doing?”

“Not great. Otto’s kidney enzymes are down from yesterday. He’s going to need a transplant soon.”

“How long?”

“I give it two weeks. If everything goes smoothly.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

I shake my head. “The infection could spread. Damage his other organs.”

King closes his eyes and tilts his head back. It’s as though he’s lost in thought, but the act itself is performative. There are no furrows in his brow.

“A shame,” he comes out with, finally. “How is his mother handling it?”

I feel a prickle of warning here. Why does he want to know about Kenzi? I keep it vague: “As well as anyone can.”

A smile cuts across Mr. King’s face. “I remember when you were kids. You two were practically glued at the hip, weren’t you?”

“I guess some things don’t change.”

“You have a special relationship with her. And Jason.”

My mouth clamps shut, jaw tightening. So that’s what this is about. “All due respect,” I say, “if you want to know about your son, you should probably ask him.”

A sharp smile crosses his lips. “This isn’t something I can discuss with him. He hasn’t been himself since he started living with you.”

Ants are crawling across my skin. I’ll be polite—because he’s my boss—but I don’t have to sit here and listen to this shit.

If he wants to believe I’m the bad influence that turned his son queer, that’s fine by me. I couldn’t care less. But I don’t have to put up with it.

“What do you want?” I ask, because I’m done beating around the bush.

He blinks. “This isn’t about what I want,” he says. “This is about what’s best for everyone involved.” His leather chair groans as he leans back into it. “I would like to help Otto. I have strings I can pull to ensure he gets what he needs. Under one condition.”

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