Chapter 2
Two hours later, the light above the room went out.
Michael came out of the operating room, in his scrubs, removing his mask with deliberate care.
Emily jumped up from the bench and rushed over.
"Michael! How's Eric?" Emily called out.
"The surgery went smoothly. The donor heart was a perfect match. He needs to rest and recover well," he replied.
Emily grabbed his arm, tears streaming down her face.
"Thank you, Michael. Thank you for saving Eric," she said.
He didn't push her away.
He glanced over Emily's head and caught sight of me, crouched at the end of the hallway.
He patted Emily's shoulder. "Go see your brother. I'll have a word with Sarah."
Emily let go of Michael's arm, wiped her tears, and paused as she walked past me.
"Sarah, thank you and Michael so much," she added.
I looked up at her.
Her eyes were red, and her face was full of gratitude and vulnerability.
But the faint upward curve at the corner of her lips. Only I could catch it from where I was.
He walked over to me, crouched down, and reached out to help me up.
I shook off his hand.
"That donor heart was meant for Andrew," I said, my voice cold.
"Sarah, let me explain," he started.
"The donor heart was matched three months ago. You were the contact person, and your name was on the approval form. That donor heart was meant for Andrew," I continued.
Michael pulled his hand back and clenched it on his knee. "I re-evaluated the matching data. Eric's rejection risk was lower. Medically speaking..."
"Don't give me that medical talk." I cut him off.
I stood up, my legs still weak, and had to steady myself against the wall to keep from falling.
"Andrew, the Drew you've been calling for six years, what gives you the right to give his donor heart to someone else?" I demanded.
He didn't answer.
The harsh white hallway lights made his face look paler.
After a long pause, he finally spoke. "I'll help Andrew find another heart. Try to stay calm."
"Another one? Where do you expect to find one? You know better than anyone how long the national donor heart waiting list is. It took three years to get this one. How long do you think the next one will take? Five years? Ten?
"Do you know how much longer Andrew's body can hold on?" I shot back.
My voice was so loud that nurses from all over the floor turned to look.
He glanced around and lowered his voice. "Let's talk at home."
"I'm not going home. I'm going to see Andrew."
"If you show up like this, he'll definitely start worrying."
That stopped me in my tracks.
He was right.
Andrew didn't know a thing.
He was still lying in the ICU, thinking he'd be getting a new heart in a few hours.
What was I supposed to tell him? Michael gave his donor heart to someone else's brother?
I stared at Michael for a long time.
It had been seventeen years.
From that twelve-year-old boy, drenched in blood, to the Cardiothoracic Surgery director standing before me in his scrubs.
For the first time, it hit me that I never really knew him.
I didn't go home.
I went to see Andrew.
Andrew was asleep when I opened the door.
The numbers on the monitor kept jumping, but they looked weak, like they barely had any strength left.
Alan Russ, Andrew's attending physician, called me out into the hallway.
"Ms. Summers, the surgery was changed at the last minute," he said.
He looked around as he said the word "changed."
"I know," I replied.
"The Cardiac Surgery director has the authority over donor heart allocation, so I..." he added.
But he trailed off, unable to finish.
"Alan, what do you mean?"
He opened his mouth, but finally said, "Andrew's condition isn't good. After missing this chance, I can't say for sure he'll hold out until the next successful match."
"How long?"
"If things go well, maybe three to five months. But if there's any infection or complication..."
He never mentioned what happens if things go south.
I sat on the bench outside the ICU all night.
At three in the morning, my phone buzzed.
It was a message from Michael. [Are you still at the hospital? Come home and get some rest. Tomorrow, I've got a meeting with the Organ Procurement Center to put Andrew back on the list.]
Another text came in. [Sarah, every decision I make is for medical reasons. Trust me.]
I stared at that message for five minutes.
Then I flipped my phone over, screen down.
Sure enough, Michael showed up early the next morning.
He was holding my favorite soup and Andrew's medicine.
He checked Andrew's vitals first, talked to the doctor on duty, and then came out and handed me a cup of water.
"I've already re-entered Andrew into the Organ Procurement Center system, and I'm reaching out to a few hospitals in the neighboring state. I'll let you know the moment I hear anything," he said.
His expression was earnest, and his tone was sincere.
It was like six years ago, when he told me, "I'll take care of this family."
I took the water but didn't drink it.
"Where's Emily?" I asked.
"What?" he replied.
"Shouldn't you be checking on her brother's recovery?" I pressed.
His hand froze for a second as he unscrewed the lid of the water bottle.
"The other doctors are handling it. I don't need to be there"
"But you're the surgeon. You did the operation."
"Sarah."
The way he said my name was a warning, telling me to drop it while we were in the hospital.
"I've told you before, the donor heart was allocated after careful consideration. It's not like someone stole it from anyone."
I stood up. "Careful consideration?
"What did you actually consider? Your new intern cried in your office twice, and you just gave Andrew's donor to her brother?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Let me ask you. Whose name was on the matching approval form? Who waited three years for that donor heart? Do you dare pull up the records and show me where someone changed the allocation?"
A few nurses poked their heads out from the hallway, curious about the commotion.
His expression stiffened.
He lowered his head and spoke in a voice only I could hear.
"Calm down. I promise I'll help Andrew find another donor heart," he said.
"Your promises mean nothing to me now," I said.
With that, I turned and walked away.
Behind me, I heard him call after me, "Sarah."
I didn't look back.
As I reached the elevator lobby, my phone buzzed.
It was a message from Emily. [Sarah, Michael asked me to tell you he'll do everything he can for Andrew, so try not to worry. He's been busy reaching out to different contacts these past few days. Please be understanding.]
I took a screenshot and buried it in the deepest corner of my photo gallery.