I let out a breath of relief. “Yeah. No offense to them, it’s just…we’re the ones dealing with this.”
“We are, too,” Travis said quietly.
Neil shifted in his chair. “Not quite as intensely as Sophie and Susan.”
“But you’re here to talk about my kidney,” I said after a brief pause.
She nodded.
“It must have taken an extraordinary amount of courage to ask,” Neil said, his tone utterly sincere. He was trying to put her at ease, despite his own feelings, and I appreciated the effort.
“I don’t know if I would call it that,” Susan said, still not meeting our eyes. “I have no right to ask.”
“If someone I loved needed that kind of help, I would have done the same thing.” I knew that with all my heart. How could anyone withhold life from another person? Inflict that pain?
And I knew, in that moment, that my mind was made up. I was going to do it.
But I also knew better than to announce it in a rash moment of realization, without first informing my husband and our boyfriend. “Why don’t you tell me about Molly?” I suggested. “What’s she like?”
Susan’s entire face lit up at the mere mention of her—our—sister. “Well, she’s…willful. She’s definitely at that know-it-all teenager stage. But she loves musicals, movies. She wants to move here to be an actress.”
“We wanted to bring her along with us,” Travis interjected. “But it conflicted with summer arts camp.”
I couldn’t stop myself from imagining what it would be like to have a little sister, to fly her out here and dazzle her with a new Broadway show every night. To take her to a party where she might meet someone famous. To put her up here while she auditioned for shows and lived her dream—
Those thoughts came to a crashing halt when I saw them for what they were. I couldn’t buy another person’s love. I couldn’t make a family that didn’t want me beholden to me.
“Another time, perhaps,” Neil said. It wasn’t an offer, but an open door.
“Another time.” Susan picked up her spoon and idly stirred her soup. “I think you would really like her.”
“Maybe I’ll get a chance to meet her.” I shrugged. “That would be up to her, though.”
“A half-sister with an apartment in New York?” Travis laughed. “Yeah, I think she’ll want to meet you.”
“Don’t make her sound like that.” Susan sounded terse. I got the impression that maybe this had been discussed before they’d arrived.
Travis wasn’t impressing me, or Neil, judging from his body language. There was far too much wink wink, nudge nudge about our money happening. I didn’t doubt Susan’s motives in being here at all; anyone would have seen how much she loved her sister, and how desperate she was to help her. But Travis… I wouldn’t turn my proverbial back on him.
“I do love teenagers.” Neil’s voice took on a wistful tone. A few years ago, I might have made a crack about our age gap and our first encounter. But a few years ago, he wouldn’t have been longing for his lost child.
I fought back tears—they always came at the most unexpected times, even now—and cleared my throat. “If I were to donate, what would that entail? I’m not familiar with the process.”
That was a lie. I had read everything I could possibly Google to learn about all the stages of donation. But it wouldn’t feel real until someone connected to it told me.
“First, you’d have to be screened to make sure you’re a match,” Susan explained. “If you are, then you would have to meet with the transplant team, I guess.”
“Where would that be?” Neil asked.
“Ann Arbor, probably,” I answered without thinking. “Sorry. He was asking you.”
Susan shook her head. “It’s fine. You’re right, they’d do it at U of M.”
Neil leaned forward in his seat. “And how quickly would this get underway? Weeks? Months?”
“I don’t know,” Susan said, just as the kitchen door opened. A server poked her head out, and Neil turned.
“Sorry, I think we need a moment before the next course,” he said apologetically. “I’ll let you know when the moment is more…appropriate.”
The server nodded and closed the door.
Susan took a deep breath and tried answering, again. “I’m not sure how fast things would move. I get the impression that a lot of that has to do with when it’s safe for her to have the surgery.”
Neil nodded thoughtfully. “Which we understand. My transplant was autogenic, and cells are a bit different from whole organs, I’m sure. But I imagine there are some similar criteria.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Susan admitted. “But at least you’re not total rookies.”
“No, that we certainly are not,” Neil said.
A lull fell over the table, again. This time, it felt like expectation. The longer it went on, the more I wanted to be the first to say it, rather than be asked outright.