Chapter 70

Ardal

At the clinic the next day, Erbao is playing cheerfully with Leah during his dialysis session.

I nursed my wounds with Kadeem the day before. Nothing a little Skinny Pop and a White Claw before bed didn't fix.

My mind ticks away as Peggy explains the mechanics of home dialysis and what I have to do. Thankfully, a nurse will come in to help me initially.

“We’ve got him scheduled for the catheter placement next week,” she says, handing me a card, and then providing me with the instructions on when to arrive, and to expect a call from the anesthesiologist's team a couple days before.

My head is still spinning with all the information when Jack pokes his head through the door.

“Can I grab you,” he asks. His face is solemn and it gives me nervous butterflies.

I blow Erbao a kiss and follow Jack to his office. He’s out with it immediately and he doesn’t sugar coat it. He sits down on the edge of his desk and grabs my hand as he delivers the news with an unflinching kindness.

“You’re not a match."

My heart sinks and my mind goes foggy. Panic courses through my body and I feel like I'm about to faint.

Seeing that I’m reeling, Jack takes my other hand and gives it a gentle squeeze as he peers at me through his glasses.

“It’s not the end of things,” he says, slowly, and firmly.

He’s obviously seasoned at speaking to emotional, panicky parents. Maybe with less literal hand-holding, though. At least, I hope.

“But I... how can I -” I can’t speak coherently. I feel like I’m falling apart.

“It's alright,” he says calmly, releasing my hands. “It happens. That’s why we do the testing, after all. Plan A is out, so we go to Plan B. And Ardal?”

I force myself to look back into his blue eyes. His are so still, so measured, that I feel myself begin to calm a little.

“Maybe it’s for the best in a strange way,” he says.

Instantly, I wrinkle my brow in confusion.

“You’re the quarterback of the family. If you're benched, there is no game. It's difficult to be a living donor, but certainly difficult as a single mom of quintuplets!”

I hang my head. Perhaps he's right. I shift gears, trying to get out of the heaviness of the moment, forcing a chuckle. “I didn’t know you were a football fan,” I say halfheartedly.

“I'm not,” he says, smiling. “I hope my analogy wasn’t just a load of bunk.”

I laugh this time, for real, and he pulls me in for a hug.

I let him hold me for a while, without breaking away, though it's my instinct. I lay my head against his shoulder, taking in his citrusy scent. His shoulder is sort of lean and bony against me. I don’t melt into him the way I did into Kadeem.

I finally pull back and the glint of silver catches my eye - that cross necklace of his - tucked underneath his shirt with the chain barely visible above the collar.

I look into his eyes again, feeling guilty about kissing Kadeem yesterday and hoping it doesn't somehow show on my face.

Jack clears his throat. "The next most feasible option would be to have your ex considered as a potential donor."

Of course, he's right, but it feels like a punch to the stomach. At the mention of Kadeem, heat floods my cheeks. I avert my eyes from Jack.

"Is that doable," he asks. "I know it would be a difficult conversation, but..."

“It’s doable for Erbao’s sake,” I say. I swallow. “I just have to figure out how to tell him.”

And then, prepare myself for the seismic shift in my kids’ young lives.

My thoughts start to gallop around my mind like wild horses, all the things I'm terrified of. Especially Kadeem's probable hatred towards me when he discovers my identity and if he remembers the events of our past.

I envision a turbulent atmosphere between us while we both attempt to care for the quints and share time with them. I'm filled with dread as I play out all the horrible ways in which the hostile tension simmering in the background - or even erupting into the foreground - could impact them and make lasting marks.

On the flip side, the quints will gain their father. Will they be resentful and hurt that I lied to them? And is there any possibility that Kadeem might reject them as he did me? My heart sinks at the prospect, yet I know deep down, it's impossible.

Jack rises and walks to the other side of his desk. His back is turned towards me, and he seems to be staring off, lost in thought, oblivious of my death spiral in the stormy sea of my mind.

"It's the most obvious next step," he says quietly, still looking away. "And yet..." Slowly, he turns back to face me. "There could be another avenue to try."

There's a funny sort of expression on his face I can't make sense of. A gleam of... excitement? I feel an odd shiver come over me. My heart quickens and warnings of danger seem to whisper from my soul.

I shift uneasily on my feet. "What's that," I ask, trying to hide the hitch in my voice.

"I can't go into a lot of details yet," Jack says, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "You'd just have to trust me. And.. you'd have to come with me."

The hairs on my arms stand up and I step back instinctively. "Come with you?" A spark of anger enters my tone. I can't help it. "Come with you where?"

Jack pauses for a moment. "You and the kids," he says. "To the Pack X territory." He watches me intently as I try to process.

I shake my head in confusion. "How does that help Erbao?"

"Believe me," Jack says, coming around his desk to stand close to me. "I know it's a big ask, but we could build a life there together. You, me, and the kids."

His proximity unnerves me. I push him away, but regret it immediately when I see he's taken aback. He's not used to this side of me. "You're asking too much of me," I say. "You're going to have to give me a lot more information than that to just pick up my life and -"

"Even if it could save Erbao?"

"That's not fair," I snap. "You haven't told me how. You haven't told me anything!"

"What if I told you it would be better than a transplant? That it could offer a million brighter possibilities for Erbao? That it would be painless, with no recovery time?"

It sounds like the fantasy I've dreamed of - and yet, an icy dread fills me. Why I am so afraid?

Jack's blue eyes are shining, his face suffused with a feverish joy.

What the hell is "it?"

"I... don't know," I stammer.

But I do.

I start to imagine it in my head. A miracle for Erbao. No surgery. No dialysis, just my healthy little boy with a better life ahead - not a lifetime of drugs to keep his body from rejecting a donor kidney. Julia's still in Pack X. She's been unhappy with her job. Maybe we could start our own health club together. Maybe we could...

I break off. I can't just get lost in the clouds. My thoughts scatter as I see the look of anticipation on Jack's face. This is ridiculous, absurd. Suddenly, I feel furious.

"How dare you," I say. "There's no way. Not in a million years!"

Jack glances at the door nervously, no doubt worried someone will hear my shouting. "Ardal," he begins, but I cut him off.

"No, I'm talking!" I point my finger at him, feeling so incensed, I could jab it into him. "I need you to be Erbao's doctor! Not my wizard boyfriend with a magical plan to whisk us off to Narnia!"

Jack takes a step back, his eyebrows knitted with worry. "You're right - I'm sorry -"

I glare at him. "My little boy is down the hall doing fucking dialysis! And you want to sell me on some pipedream to elope with you off into the sunset? To tell me a lie about some magical cure that won't ever come to fruition?"

I throw open the door.

"Ardal, please," Jack says, but I ignore him and storm down the hall, barely registering it as I nearly crash into Peggy.

I bulldoze past her, muttering an apology, as I continue charging back to Erbao's room.

Leah glances up at my reddened face and my furrowed brow, but goes back to occupying Erbao, who thankfully, is so enthralled by Leah, he doesn't give me a second look.

I sit with my arms crossed, stewing in a hazy rage until it's time to leave.

My anger is undeterred by time, only intensifying until it's time to depart. I snatch up Erbao's hand and march him out of the building. I'm prepared to give Jack another piece of my mind if he appears, but his office door is shut when we walk past.

An image of him cowering on the other side of the door flashes in my mind, and a feeling of shame stings me, but I bat it away. I don't want to ever see him again.

God help me, Kadeem was right.