Chapter 3
For the next week, Michael showed up at the hospital every single day.
He tweaked Andrew's meds, monitored his stats, and met with the doctors.
He acted like he really cared, doing everything by the book.
But Andrew's numbers kept dropping anyway.
His heart function dropped from class III to class IV.
When Alan handed me the report, my hands were shaking.
"Ms. Summers, if we don't find a new donor heart within two months..." he said.
"I know," I replied.
That evening, Michael was waiting for me at the hospital entrance.
His car was parked in the usual spot, and there was a bouquet of lilies on the passenger seat.
"Come on, let's go home for dinner. I made your favorite food," he said.
I didn't get in. "Any news on the donor heart?"
He got out of the car and walked over to me.
"Sarah, I've been checking in with the organ center every single day. Hanging around the hospital all the time isn't helping anyone. You're looking so thin lately," he said.
"I'm asking about the donor."
He paused for a couple of seconds. "Still waiting."
"What about the neighboring state? Didn't you say you reached out to three hospitals last week?"
"None of them were a good fit. Sarah, this can't be rushed."
It couldn't be rushed.
Andrew's heart was getting weaker by the day, and he told me it couldn't be rushed.
"Michael, have you been looking for him at all?" I demanded.
His face darkened.
"What do you mean by that?" he asked.
"I went to the Organ Procurement Center. They told me that on Andrew's emergency report, you only marked him as priority B. B means no immediate threat to life. Seriously? How could you give a class IV heart patient a B rating?" I demanded.
The air hung heavy for a few seconds.
He didn't answer right away.
He opened the car door and motioned for me to get in.
"This is all technical stuff, Sarah. You wouldn't get it."
"Then explain it to me."
"Get in the car. We'll talk about it at home."
"I'm not getting in. Tell me right here. Why did you give him a B rating?"
His hand was on the car door, and his fingers clenched for a moment.
He didn't say anything for ages, then finally spoke up.
"Look, when we assess priority, we have to consider age, overall health, and rejection risk. Andrew had an infection before, and his immune stats are shaky. Giving him a B rating makes sense."
"If he'd been given an A rating, would he have been ahead of Eric in the last donor allocation?"
He didn't say a word.
I took a step back.
"You not only gave the donor heart that should have gone to him to someone else, but you intentionally downgraded his priority. Michael, what are you really doing?"
"I'm making the call a doctor has to make."
His tone hardened suddenly.
"You're not a doctor, so you have no idea how complicated it is every time a donor heart gets assigned. I've been doing everything I can for him. Just because things didn't go your way, you can't pretend I haven't tried my best."
"What if it was you lying in that hospital bed?"
"Are you being reasonable right now?"
He slammed his hand down on the car roof.
The sound made me jump.
In six years of marriage, he'd never lost his temper with me like this before.
As I stared at his face, flushed with anger, a sudden clarity hit me.
He didn't care about Andrew's life at all.
He was pissed that I'd called him out.
Holding the untouched takeout box, I turned and headed back inside the hospital.
Behind me, I heard the heavy thud of the car door slamming shut.
That night, I sat in the hospital hallway for a long time.
I remembered the day Andrew was diagnosed three years ago, when Michael put his hand on my shoulder and said, "As long as I'm here, nothing will happen to Drew."
The man who once promised me nothing would happen to Drew was now busy drafting a post-op recovery plan for Emily's brother.
Meanwhile, Andrew's heart function had slipped another two points.
*****
Three days later, someone showed up outside Andrew's hospital room.
I'd seen him around the hospital before.
He was Victor Clark, the deputy director of this hospital.
Word was, he and Michael didn't get along.
Back when Michael got promoted to director, Victor was the top contender. But somehow, someone pulled some strings, and he lost out by just half a point on the evaluation. His promotion went up in smoke.
After that, he got shuffled off to run logistics.
After twenty years as a surgeon, he was stuck running the warehouse and cafeteria.
I never asked what he did to get on Michael's bad side.
But the day he showed up outside Andrew's room, there was no way he was just passing by.
"Ms. Summers, do you have a minute to talk?" he asked.
He led me to the lounge on the first floor and poured me a glass of water.
"I've heard about what's going on with your brother," he said.
I didn't say anything.
"There's been some talk behind the scenes about the donor heart allocation," he added.
"What are they saying?" I asked.
He set the glass down and looked at me.
"Ms. Summers, I'll be blunt. I checked the system records for that donor heart. Andrew's compatibility report was submitted a full eleven days before Eric's. By the normal process, your brother should've gotten priority."
My hand shook. "Are you mean..."
"I mean, someone changed the priority order. It was made at 6:32 PM, the day before the surgery. The login used was Michael's," Victor said.
Up until that moment, I was clinging to a shred of hope.
Maybe there really was some medical reason, maybe Michael had his reasons, maybe it wasn't as messed up as I feared.
But when Victor showed me the system logs, the last shred of hope I had was ripped away.
The screen showed the edit history. My last hope was gone.
"Ms. Summers, I'm not trying to mess things up between you and Michael.
"But there's something you really ought to know. Problems with donor hearts, this isn't the first time it's happened in the past few years."
"What do you mean?"
He pushed the glass aside and lowered his voice.
"Last year, there was a heart transplant Michael handled. The donor heart's origin was questionable. The patient's family tried to complain, but he swept it under the rug.
"And the year before that, there was a patient transferred in from another state. He was on the waiting list for a donor, but the donor mysteriously ended up going to a relative of one of Michael's classmates.
"On their own, none of these things look like much. But when you add them up..."
But he trailed off, unable to finish.
"Victor, what do you want me to do with this?"
He looked me right in the eye, dead serious, and said, "What you do is your call. But if you ever need someone in your corner, you know where to find me."
His business card had a phone number and his name, Victor Clark.
I slipped the card into my pocket.
When I got back to the room, Andrew was awake.
"Sarah, where did you go?"
"I went to get you some dinner."
"I'm not hungry. Sarah, were you crying?"
"No. The wind was blowing in my eyes."
Andrew looked at me.
He was only twenty-two, but after three years in a hospital bed, he could spot when something was off with someone faster than anyone.
"Sarah, did something happen with Michael?"
"No, nothing happened. Get some rest, okay? Don't worry about it."
Andrew nodded quietly and closed his eyes.
After a while, I heard him whisper, "Sarah, if we can't get a donor heart, don't blame Michael.
"It's not his fault."
I turned my face away, swallowing back my tears.
You had no idea, Andrew.
It was his fault.