Sophie (The Boss 8)

It took about an hour for Molly to start vomiting profusely.

"Just seasickness," the medic on the crew said as I sat beside Molly on her bed in her cabin and rubbed her back. My sympathetic puke instinct had dulled considerably during Neil's chemotherapy, but that was years ago, and I was out of practice. Now, it came back with an unholy vengeance I had to battle while Molly dry-heaved into a bucket.

"My abs hurt so bad," she panted, the sound echoing in the brushed-steel wastebasket.

"Is there anything you can give her?" I implored.

“Yes. It'll make her drowsy tonight, though. And it's an injection. Is that okay with you, Molly?" he asked.

"If it will keep me from barfing up my stomach lining, I don't care if it's a suppository." She lifted her head. "But I'm on some other medications. Can you check first?"

"Sure thing. Do you have them?"

I was already pawing through the black bag she carried her prescriptions in. "Here."

"Okay. I'll make a call. Be right back." He left with a reassuring pat on Molly's shoulder just as she retched again.

"I can't believe you have a doctor on your ship," Molly gasped.

"I can't believe it, either." I probably should have been smart enough to think of that detail myself. "I'm pretty sure he comes with the contracted staff."

"Can I be honest with you about something?" She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

I forced myself not to recoil from the sight. "Of course, you can. You can always be honest with me."

"I'm not making fun of you for being rich because I think you're doing something wrong. I know you and Neil and El-Mudad are good people. It's just that I'm struggling with the fact that if you hadn't stepped in when you did...maybe I would have died." She raked her sweat-damp hair back with trembling hands. "I feel guilty because other people in my position do die. Every day. Why did I live?"

"You've got survivor's guilt." How could I have been so short-sighted? "I can't believe I didn't think about that possibility. I guess I assumed you'd just be so happy to get a kidney that nothing else would bother you."

"I am grateful to be alive, don't get me wrong," she said quickly. "I just..."

She paused to dry-heave again. I waited patiently for her to continue.

"I just wish I knew why I deserved it," she managed, once her stomach's temper tantrum had passed.

"That is a question I think everybody asks, at least once in their lives." I know I had. When Neil had been in intensive care, I'd seen families pray for miracles that never arrived. I saw people leave that floor devastated at the loss of their loved ones. Every time Neil had pulled through some new challenge or passed a milestone getting better, it had been bittersweet. I'd run through everything I'd ever done wrong, tormenting myself over and over as I struggled to figure out why I deserved to avoid that heartache after all the selfish things I'd done in my life. I would never have framed things as selfish or sinful if I hadn't been locked in a state of constantly beating myself up.

But all that was a little too heavy to get into with my teen sister while she ruined our trash can.

"Maybe I should be puking over the railing," she said with a little chuckle. "Feed the fish. It's the circle of life."

I chuckled at the joke because I was supposed to, but I didn't encourage her to run away from our conversation. "You know, sometimes after being in the hospital and facing a severe illness, people need some help getting their mindset back on track. Have you been to a therapist or anything?"

"I talked a little to a counselor at the hospital while I was still there. But come on. You know there isn't exactly a psychiatrist on every corner back home." She leaned cautiously over the trashcan again, then sat back up when it was a false alarm. "I'd have to go to Green Bay every week to see the guy that specializes in teens and disease."

"We can get you set up with someone if you want." Another thought occurred to me, one that might have been way too personal to ask, but I did. "Who was your donor? Do you know?"

"We didn't get a name or anything. It came from a deceased donor." That seemed to trouble her. "I had to wait for someone to die so I could live. It's not just that you helped us pay for it or that I got to live. I just feel like I have a debt to repay for my good fortune. If that makes sense."

"If there is one person on this boat who that would make sense to, believe me, it's me." But I hadn't had to deal with it when I was a kid in high school.