The Donor (11 page)

Jonah:
Did you tell her I'm a twelve year old boy?

Me:
Should have.

Me:
It'll be okay.

My phone buzzes again, but I can't see what it says. I blink a few times, afraid that my vision is blurring when I haven't even been home a few hours yet. But when I focus, the reality of the situation is worse. There’s a drop of blood on my phone screen.

I reach up to my nose and pull my hand away. My palm is covered in blood. I rip napkins from the table, trying to staunch the bleeding before my mom comes back.

When I look toward the bathroom, not only is half of the restaurant staring at me, but my mom is rushing toward me, fear etched into her face.

***

The drive back to Jonah’s house was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. We stepped out of the car and back into the cold, walking side by side in the snow as our boots crunched down the thin top layer. He opened the door for me and I walked in ahead of him. I shrugged out of my coat while simultaneously kicking off my boots by the door so I wouldn’t track water into the house.  He had me sit in the kitchen while he busied himself, making something for dinner. Being at the cabin was like being in a vacuum that sucked up the time. It was already nine o’ clock.  I texted my mom while he worked. She was excited that I was having such a good time, but wanted to know how much longer I would be there. I didn’t give her a direct answer, just told her soon.

Jonah set a plate down in front of me and set a place for himself as well. When I looked at it I smiled. Spaghetti and meatballs. He went into the fridge and took out a bottle of wine and poured himself a glass.

“Can I have some?” I asked.

He smiled and it was like he was already laughing. “You’re a little too young for alcohol.”

But he took out another wine glass and filled mine for me about halfway. I smiled before I took a sip. The only time I really drank was once in a while in high school, when I was pressured into it by people I wanted to be friends with. I never really even liked the stuff or had any interest in trying it out again, but being with Jonah, after the day we had today, I decided I deserved to feel a little detached from my body. The dark red liquid warmed my mouth and throat as I swallowed and I liked how it made me feel. More comfortable when I knew I should have been anything but.

“I hope you like it,” Jonah said, breaking the silence. I looked down at my plate, the smell of sauce flooding my nose. “I haven't made it in a while.”

I wondered idly if he made this for his daughter. If I was some surrogate version of her that he could take care of in some way. It should have bothered me, but it didn't. It just made me incredibly sad.

“It smells great,” I said.

And it was.

We ate mostly in silence, but we were both okay with it. Nothing really needed to be said. We would pause here and there, me between bites and him in between watching me eat and eating once in a long while, and smile at each other or say something in passing, like how warm it was in the room or how cold it was outside.

When I was finished, I stood to clear my plate, but he was already clearing it for me. I finished my second glass of wine and he motioned to the bottle, asking if I wanted more.

I did, but I was a little tipsy already. “Trying to get me drunk, eh?”

He laughed. “You've barely had any.” And the way he spoke told me he was feeling it too. I hadn't been keeping track of how many glasses he had.

I held out my glass to him and he poured, refilling first mine, then his. I let it sit on the table for a while before I took another sip, deciding that pacing myself was the best option.

“Do you want to sit in the living room?” he asked after he was done washing the dishes, laying them on the drying rack and wiping his hands.

I nodded.

Jonah took both of our glasses from the dining room table and I followed him into the living room. He set them down on the coffee table in front of the couch before he sat down, but I couldn't tear myself away from the aquarium. The fish swam by and the water rippled around them, the image dispersing into blurred colors.

I pressed my hands to the tank like I would be able to join them before I heard the clink of a glass being down on the coffee table. I turned to see Jonah studying me with a smile that didn't touch his eyes.

“Sorry,” I said, taking my hands off of the glass and stepping backward.

“It's okay,” he said, crossing his leg over his knee. “I like watching you.”

Suddenly self conscious, I stared down at my feet. “I can't be that interesting,” I said.

Jonah cocked his head to one side like I had said something confusing. “Of course you are.”

He patted the seat next to him and I shuffled over, sitting down too close. Our legs were touching. But neither of us moved away.

Reaching an arm around the back of the couch, Jonah pulled me a little closer. “I doubt there are many people like you in the world,” he said.

“Yeah.” I snorted. “Not many dying girls who would want to spend their last days alive with a stranger.”

“Or help that stranger.”

“Or really want to kiss that stranger.”

I don't know why I said it out loud. I could have blamed the alcohol, but I knew that was just an excuse. I knew that even if I was stone cold sober I would have wanted the same thing.

Jonah smiled. “Exactly.”

But he didn't kiss me.

***

Mom walks through the door to our trailer before me, and I trail after her like a child. My nose had stopped bleeding when we were about half way home. Mom had asked me if I was okay, and I told her yes. She commented on how I hadn't stopped bleeding, and I said I would explain.

She asks me again if I’m okay. I only nod.

Dad’s sitting in his usual recliner, watching TV. He switches it off when he sees me, standing on stiff legs. “Casey,” he says, shuffling over to me to enclose me in a hug. I guide him back to the couch and he sits.

“Hi, Dad,” I say. Seeing him, being face to face with this decision now that both of my parents are in the same room as me, I don't know what to do. It’s hard to move, hard to breathe.

Mom sits on the couch. Now they’re both looking expectantly at me. Mom has a worried expression on her face while Dad waits patiently and smiles.

“So,” he says. “Tell me about your trip.”

I take a breath, steadying myself.

“Let me go to the bathroom first,” I say. I don't wait for an answer before I hurry down the hall and shut myself inside.

I sit on the closed toilet lid, sliding my phone from my pocket.

Me:
I can't do this.

Jonah responds almost immediately, but it isn't what I was expecting.

Jonah:
Me either.

I blink a few times, unable to tell if he’s serious or if this is a hallucination.

Me:
Where are you?

Jonah:
Still at the airport. They called my gate thirty minutes ago and I couldn’t stand.

Jonah:
I've just been sitting here.

Me:
I just had a nosebleed in front of my mom.

Jonah:
Where are you now?

Me:
Home. I'm scared.

Jonah:
Let's be scared together?

My hands shake with the phone in them. Does he want to abandon our plan?

I know that isn't an option now that I’m home. We’ve made it this far, and I know both of us can't back out now.

But maybe we can stretch time a little while longer.

Jonah:
Give me your address. I'll be there.

***

I picked up my glass from the table and drained the rest of it. I was afraid that Jonah had only shown me his secret house in order to get what he really wanted from me. Now that he knew I would give it to him, he didn't have any interest in me.

“I'm sorry, Casey,” he said.

When I didn't look at him, he took my glass from me and set it down on the table again. I couldn't look at him. I was too embarrassed.

Jonah placed a hand on the side of my face and positioned it so I was looking right at him. It was a gentle gesture, but it made my heart pound faster in my chest.

“I...” he couldn't finish his sentence.

“I thought you liked me,” I said, and I could hear a slight whine in my voice. I hated it.

He kissed my forehead. “I do,” he said softly. “I really do.”

I blinked a few times, willing myself to keep it together and not cry. “Then why...” I took a breath. “Why don't you want me anymore?”

Jonah sighed. He took my hand and we both stared down at it. “I do,” he repeated. “More than you know.”

Taking my hand, he lay down with me on the couch. With him behind me, I was more aware of him, the way his free hand stroked my hair. We both watched the tank across the room, the gentle hum lulling us into calmness. I wanted to say something, but words escaped me as we drew closer to each other.

***

I emerge from the bathroom and Mom and Dad are both staring at me.

“So,” Mom says. “We're waiting.” She seems uneasy, but she doesn't mention the nosebleed and I’m not ready to.

Picking a spot between Mom and the recliner, I sit down. “I had fun in Boston,” I begin. “But...” I get stuck on the sentence, unsure of what else to say that isn't a lie. “I didn't go out there to look at schools.”

I brace myself, waiting for anger or disappointment, but Mom and Dad are calm.

“So...” Dad speaks first. “What did you go out there for?”

I gulp. “Well, I went to go meet a friend,” I say. It’s easiest this way. “Actually…it was kind of for a job.” It’s not exactly a lie. I’m still not sure if I can tell them everything, but they needed to know at least enough to understand what I did. What I tried to do for them.

Dad raises his eyebrows. Mom smiles knowingly. “So is that who you've been texting since you landed?”

I nod, letting my own smile form. “I didn't expect us to like each other,” I say. “I just went out to make some extra money and it...just sort of happened.”

Mom pauses, I can see the gears turning in her head. “What kind of job did you get out there?”

I thought quickly. “Well, it was mostly office work. You know, kind of like an assistant. It was supposed to be temporary and then he ended up liking me so he kept me on longer.”

Dad smiles. “That's great, honey.”

Mom isn’t about to let it slide so easily. “So why did you lie to us this whole time?”

I shrug. “I guess I was kind of scared of what you'd think.”

“Did it at least pay well?” She asks.

I haven't checked my bank account, but I called to tell them about the sum I could only imagine receiving. “Really well,” I say.

“And now you're...involved?” She asks.

“I also kind of didn't want to tell you about that.”

“Why not, sweetie?”

I swallow. I can't lie to them about this. He would be here soon and there’s no way Mom and Dad won't notice the obvious. “He's a little...older than me.”

Dad clears his throat. Mom shifts her weight on the sofa. “How
much
older?” Dad asks.

I stare at my hands. “He's in his forties,” I say in a small voice.

Dad lets out a breath. Mom's smile falters. If they’re this upset about just the idea of Jonah, I dread telling them the rest of the story.

I decide my best option is to keep talking. Give them less time to think and less time to ask me questions that could throw me off. “He's actually in town for some business,” I add, a little less confident than I had been before. “He wanted to stop by and meet you.”

They both seem a little surprised at this fact. Mom stands, Dad fiddles with the remote on the armrest.

“You guys are mad,” I state. “Don't be mad.”

“It's just a lot to take in, sweetie.” Mom sounds like she’s talking to herself. “That's all, right?” she asks Dad.

Dad nods. “He's coming over?” His tone is slightly harder, but he softens. “Already?”

I sheepishly check the time. “In about ten minutes.” I fumble for more of an explanation. “I’m sorry, it was kind of last minute.”

Mom looks around the room. “Well,” she says with an uneasy smile. “I guess I should clean what I can before he gets here.”

Dad sits up straighter and then slowly stands. “And I guess I'll go change my shirt.”

They both leave the room, Dad heading to the bedroom and Mom going into the kitchen. I shoot a text to Jonah telling him what I had told my parents so our stories match up. I don't want to cause more problems than I already have.