Page 69 of Out of the Blue

Within a few seconds, a nurse rushes in and shoos Cordelia out of my room. To her retreating back, I expend my remaining energy, “Good! And stay away!”

Chapter 21 - Trent

After those fucking machines stop beeping, Doctor Patel consults her iPad. “I understand that as well as talented, you’re a very lucky man.”

I turn my face toward the window and stare out at the deep blue sky, which belies the freezing cold temperature both outside and in. How appropriate. I lift my arm. “Whatever.” I let it drop back to the bed.

“Honestly, not everyone finds a match in time. You should be grateful.”

Grateful. Is she crazy? “I don’t want his kidney.”

The doctor makes a clucking noise. “Then you want to die?”

Yes.

I take a breath.

No.

I don’t know.

Maybe death would be preferable to living through this hell. I settle for a shrug.

Rolling the chair—the one Cordelia and my aunt used—into my line of sight, Doctor Patel sits directly in front of me. No avoiding her this time. “I’m going to give it to you straight. If you don’t take Mr. Hunte’s kidney, you will survive maybe another week. Against all odds, he is a perfect match for you. You can win here. You can live. No matter what your beef is with your organ donor, the fact remains he is willing to give you one of his kidneys. Think about the people who love you. Think about all the great music the world will miss out on if you let yourself die. Don’t do that.” She rises, the chair rolling backward.

Her words strike a chord, but it’s faint. Death seems preferable to living in this nightmare.

When I don’t respond, she says, “Consider what I said. But don’t take too long. I want you to have the best possible chance of making a full recovery.” The door clicks shut. And I’m alone.

I already have my sperm donor’s blood flowing through my veins. What would an additional kidney do?Plenty. Do I want to live or die? Dying seems like the better choice. I go down the rabbit hole of what went down a few minutes ago, my head spinning.

A while later, the door opens and I whip around expecting Doctor Patel again, only to see Auntie Gloria walk in. Before she can even tread another step, I blurt, “You didn’t tell Braxton he’s my father, did you?”

My aunt comes to a full stop. “No. I haven’t even spoken with him.” She maneuvers the overused chair around my bed. “But I did find out he’s a perfect match for you, and he’s willing to donate his kidney. To you.”

“Yeah.”

If she hadn’t ratted my mother out to him for thirty years, no way would she do it now. For the hundredth time, I replay what went down in this room. My heart counsels me that Cordy didn’t tell him, and the truth smacks me across the face. No way could he have faked his reaction.You outed yourself, stupid.

I remain silent while she takes a seat. “How are you feeling?”

Like I want to jump up and kill someone, if only my leg wasn’t in a cast. I’ve been reduced to a pity organ recipient who has some good friends in a band and an aunt who seems to care. Nothing else. I certainly don’t deserve to have a girlfriend, since I wrongly accused her of blabbing to Braxton and sent her away. “Like shit.”

She strokes my cheek with the back of her fingers. “I bet.” She scans the room, checking out all the machines to which I’m attached. “Let me tell you a story, okay?”

“Sure.” Why not? It’s not like I don’t have time to kill.Kill. Ha!

“There was a time way back when you were about three years old.” She gives me a soft smile. “You were so cute back then. You walked around with this little strut.” She laughs.

I try to remember how I was back then, but only fragments of memories come to mind. Mainly featuring my mother, and how wonderful she was to me back then. I punch the pillow behind my head.

“Well, Lorinda and I brought you into a music shop one day and your eyes lit up like it was Christmas. You played on the keyboards and drums, banging anything you could get your little hands on. Then you found a guitar and you stopped right in front of it, as if you were transfixed.”

A fuzzy memory surfaces. I frown, trying to bring it into focus. “It was made for my size. Blue.”

Her lips rise. “Yup.”

My body jolts as I remember my little hand reaching out and touching the strings for the first time. I haven’t thought about my first guitar in ages, especially now with my three Les Pauls.

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