Still Rattled

by Charles, Jane

  My hands are shaking so badly that I’m not sure I can punch the numbers into the phone. Why do they want to talk to me? They’d seen the segment, I know that, because that’s how they tracked me down. “I wish I knew what they wanted.”

  “The only way to find out is to call,” Alex states the obvious.

  My stomach is churning. Are they going to tell me what a horrible person I am for being on television like that? Have they changed their mind about the open adoption? Do they just want to give me an update? Has something happened to my daughter?

  That is my biggest fear. Something happened because I was not there to protect her. Had I kept her, she’d be safe.

  “Kelsey, I can see the worst case scenario flashing through your mind.”

  How the hell does he know me so well?

  “It could be good.”

  “Yes. It could be. But, my gut is saying otherwise.”

  “I think you’ve just had a really bad week.”

  Maybe he’s right. This week sucked royally and just because all of my plans have gone to shit, doesn’t mean anything has happened to the one beautiful thing in my life.

  Someone yells on the other side of my door, causing me to jump. It’s a male voice. Alex opens my door to see who is here and causing problems. I follow him.

  Shelby is standing in her open doorway, pointing to the front door. A guy is standing there, hands fisted.

  “Is there a problem?” Alex asks, walking into the common area.

  “That bitch just played me.”

  “Well, if that’s how you feel, maybe you should just go.”

  “I thought we had something. Something special, and she was just stringing me along to see if I was a good fuck?”

  “You’re a computer nerd,” Shelby says with disgust. “Did you honestly think I’d want someone like you permanently in my life?”

  “Once I graduate, I’ll be making good money,” he argues.

  A condescending smile comes to her lips. “Honey, the man I plan on marrying already has a trust fund, with lots and lots of zeroes.”

  “You are a fucking bitch, you know that?”

  “I’ve been called worse,” she shrugs and disappears into her room.

  “You probably should go, man,” Alex says, indicating the front door.

  “I hope I never see that bitch’s face again.” Then he straightens. “And, after I’m through with her, she won’t know what hit her.”

  My pulse picks up. We already had to get a restraining order taken out on one guy, though I’m kind of surprised we hadn’t needed to do this before where Shelby is involved.

  “Don’t come back here, and stay away from her,” Alex warns.

  “I don’t need to be anywhere near her. All I need is my computer.” He smiles and walks out the door.

  Shelby peeks out of her room. “Thank God he is gone. Nothing I hate worse than a beggar or whiner.” She goes into the kitchen and pours a cup of coffee. “And he sucked in bed.”

  I am so sick of her. “I need to get out of here.”

  “Take your tattooing Romeo with you,” Shelby calls.

  “As if I’d stay behind with you here?” He laughs.

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure that you won’t be around here much more.” Shelby grins and goes into her room, slamming the door behind her.

  “What the hell did she mean by that?” Alex asks.

  “Who knows? Shelby has no say over who rents these rooms. She’d like to, but neither she nor her daddy’s money can control that little part of life for her.”

  “You need to make the call, Kelsey.”

  I glance at Shelby’s door. “Not here. Can we go to your place? At least people around there will be supportive of whatever I find out.”

  “What’s going on?” Mary asks.

  “Brandy’s parents want to talk to me.”

  Her eyes go wide. “Can I come with you?”

  Mary has always been a friend, but I hadn’t realized just how good of one until recently. Alex will be my rock, but it’s nice to have someone I live with who I can talk to if I need to. “Sure.”

  Kelsey doesn’t say much on the subway. She’s tense, strained, and I can’t even begin to imagine what is going on in her mind.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I say as we get off at my stop.

  “I’m sure it is.” Her smile is forced. “But, I tend to borrow trouble when things are going bad.”

  “Your own worst enemy?” I chuckle.

  She stills, turns and looks at me.

  “What?”

  “That’s what Brandon always accused me of, in the beginning. I didn’t have much hope and expected what was around the corner was usually worse than what was around the one we came from.”

  My stomach knots at the mention of Brandon’s name. I know I shouldn’t be jealous, but I can’t help it. Even if the guy is dead, he still had a history with Kelsey. Hell, he lived with her for two years, got her pregnant. And even though she insists she’s not holding on to him, I can’t help but fear that she is.

  Only time will tell if she spoke the truth or if I will always have to battle the ghost of Brandon.

  The brownstone is silent when we walk in. All five of them were here when I left, but I don’t monitor their schedules either. And, I’m glad Kelsey won’t have an audience for this call. If they were here, I’d take her to my room.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  She sits down at the dining room table and puts her phone in front of her, along with the piece of paper with the telephone number. “Water?”

  I grab a bottle out of the fridge and set it on the table. She’s still staring at her phone.

  “The longer you put this off, the more difficult it’s going to be.”

  She sighs, then punches in the numbers.

  “Mrs. Cross, this is Kelsey Fry.”

  “Kelsey, I’m so glad you called.”

  My heart is pounding, and my mouth is dry, but sweat is breaking out on my forehead and in my pits. I’m torn between being hopeful and fearful.

  “How is Brandy?”

  There is a pause.

  “We named her Madison. Maddie for short.”

  I can feel myself smile a little. “I like that name.”

  “But, her middle name is Anne. Just as you would have named her.”

  Tears spring to my eyes. Why have I become such a crier all of a sudden? Since I got the tattoo, they pop up constantly. I hadn’t cried for years. Now it’s like I have a spring inside of me that bubbles over at the least bit of nudging.

  “About Maddie,” she says and then pauses. “There’s something you need to know.”

  “What?”

  “And, something we need from you.”

  Oh God. Her tone is serious, sad. “What?”

  “She’s ill, Kelsey.”

  “How ill?”

  “Aplastic Anemia.”

  I have no idea what that is. I know that anemia is usually just low iron, right? By Mrs. Cross’ tone, the tension and sadness, it sounds much worse than something eating a bunch of spinach or liver will solve.

  “In the simplest of terms, Maddie’s body does not make enough red and white blood cells or platelets.”

  “How come?”

  “Her bone marrow’s stem cells are damaged.”

  I understand these terms, but I don’t understand how it all works together. “How sick is she, and what can I do?”

  “She’s recently been diagnosed, and the doctors are putting together a treatment plan. We’d been trying to decide whether to find you and whether it was right and fair to do so. Then we saw the show and saw how much you still love her and think about her, so George and I took it as a sign.”

  “Of course I’ll do anything I can.”

  “First, they will try transfusions, but eventually she’ll need a bone marrow transplant.”

  “Okay.” This is all so numbing. I hear her words, but all I can think about is that my daughter is sick.
If she needs transfusions or a transplant, then she’s seriously sick.

  “I know I’m being hopeful, but did you and Brandon have another child? A sibling is the best match for stem cells.”

  My heart constricts. “No. She’s my only child.”

  Mrs. Cross sighs. “I knew it was a long shot, but I had to ask.”

  “What can I do?” I’ve got to do everything in my power to help Brandy.

  “Do you know your blood type?”

  I glance at Mary. She’d wanted to type me once, for a class, but I wasn’t going to be her Guinea pig for tests. “No.”

  “Do you mind terribly going to the hospital and finding out?”

  “Of course not, I’ll go right now.”

  She breaths out a sigh, as if relieved. Did she think I’d turn my back on my daughter?

  “Making this more difficult than it already is, Maddie has about the rarest blood type.” Her voice catches, as if she’s about to cry. “I’ve got to warn you.”

  My heart nearly stops.

  “It’s extremely rare that a parent is able to provide bone marrow.”

  I let this sink in, wondering how hard it will be to find. “We won’t know until we test.”

  “Thank you, Kelsey.”

  “I may have given her to you to raise, but she’s still a part of me.”

  “I know.” Mrs. Cross sniffs. “But, she is just as important to us.” There is almost a warning in her tone. What is she worried about?

  “I would have never given her to you if I had believed otherwise.”

  “Kelsey, I know this may be hard for you, and I hope that you will still help, but George and I still insist on the adoption remaining closed.”

  I hadn’t even considered asking to meet my daughter. I’m too upset by her being sick and needing my blood and possible bone marrow to think beyond the next step.

  “She knows she is adopted, just like our other children, but if we allow her to meet you, know who you are, it could confuse her and the other children who have no hope of ever meeting their parents.”

  My throat and heart tightens. It’s painful knowing that she is close. Hell, we might even be in the same hospital at the same time, but I won’t be able to talk to her or hold her. I won’t be able to tell her that despite everything I love her and she’s the most precious person on this planet. At least to me. “I understand.”

  “Thank you.” Mrs. Cross clears her throat. “I’ll ask Dr. Prescott to call you. He’ll set up the tests and probably ask you a ton of questions.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  I hang up and look over at Alex and Mary, who are watching me with concern. “My baby needs me.”

  “What’s wrong,” Alex asks.

  “She has Aplastic Anemia,” I answer and Mary’s eyes go wide. She’s a nursing student, and the concerned look on her face is more than a bit unsettling. “They want to check my blood type for a possible transfusion and possibly test for a bone marrow transplant.”

  “Kelsey, you can’t give her blood,” Mary warns. “You can’t give anyone blood. You just got a tattoo.”

  Kelsey’s face lost all color. That damn tattoo has been a curse to Kelsey since she got it, whereas it’s been a blessing to me, given she’s in my life and I’ve got more customers than I know what to do with. But, I’d give all that away if it meant Kelsey was in a position to help her daughter. “I thought there was only a short waiting period after a tattoo.”

  “In New York it’s a year.”

  “Does she have a year?” Kelsey demands, I can almost see the panic rising. “How bad is this?”

  Mary shrugs. “I don’t know. Everyone is different when it comes to a disease progression.”

  “But it’s bad, right?”

  Mary winces. “Yeah. It can be.”

  “The doctor is going to call and set me up for an appointment and testing.” Tears are in her eyes. “What if I am a perfect match, but I can’t help her because of the tattoo?”

  “We don’t know that is the case,” I insist.

  Mary frowns and lifts an eyebrow at me. She may have written off the option of Kelsey helping, but I haven’t. We will find a way to help her daughter, one way or another.

  Kelsey wipes her eyes and then tells us everything else Mrs. Cross said, about Kelsey not meeting her daughter and the explanation of the disease or condition her daughter has.

  “So, we wait for the phone call from the doctor and go from there.” I look Kelsey in the eye. “Don’t borrow trouble.”

  I barely get the word out of my mouth before her phone is ringing. This time Kelsey doesn’t even glance at the number but answers. Though it certainly doesn’t do me any good, nor will it change anything, I hold my breath.

  “Tomorrow morning? It’s Sunday.”

  Emergency situations don’t take a day off.

  “First thing. No food or drink after midnight.”

  She clicks off the phone and sighs before looking at me. “Fasting labs tomorrow at eight in the morning. They’ll type me and then run all other kinds of tests.”

  “Are you going to see the doctor at all?” I ask.

  “Appointment at ten.”

  I’ve never been queasy about needles. Alex, on the other hand, looks like he’s about to pass out. “You do tattoos. Needles are your life.”

  He winces. “Not the same thing. I’m not shoving it into a vein and drawing out blood. Nor sticking it in the arm and giving meds. And, don’t get me started on IV’s.”

  I can’t help but laugh. He’s practically green as the lab tech fills another tube of blood. Mary shoves down on his shoulder. “Sit before we have to pick your sorry ass up off the floor.”

  No matter how much I argued with Mary, she insisted on coming. She is a nursing student, about to graduate with her BS. She said she may think of questions that we haven’t. Plus, she can explain anything I might not understand. Just having Alex and Mary here helps keep me calm. There’s still some underlying anxiety, but the two of them, especially Mary giving Alex a hard time helps.

  “Can you tell me my blood type?”

  “That will be in the report I give to Dr. Prescott.”

  Mary rolls her eyes. Since Mary was going to test my blood in a classroom, I’m guessing it’s not that difficult to figure out. Especially in a lab like this in one of the city’s best children’s hospitals.

  The lab tech takes the needle from my arm, presses cotton to it and has me bend my arm. Then she tears open a bandage, asks for my arm again and tapes it over the cotton.

  “That’s it.” She smiles, taking the tubes of blood away with her.

  “What time is it?” I ask Mary.

  “Nine,” she answers. “Let’s head to the Cafeteria and get juice and protein in Alex before he passes out.”

  “I’m not that bad,” he argues and comes to this feet.

  My stomach grumbles. “I could eat something.” How come when you know you can’t eat, even if you had a huge meal later than usual in the evening, your body decides it’s starving? “We need to hurry. Our appointment with Dr. Prescott is in an hour.” Sixty minutes that will drag on like it’s sixty hours.

  At least we aren’t in an examination room, but an actual office, with a desk. I’ve seen people consulting with doctors in offices, but that was on television. My experience has always been in an exam room, wearing a paper thin gown, freezing my ass off.

  The doctor steps in, carrying a folder and looks at all three of us, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Kelsey Fry?”

  “That is me,” she says.

  “Thank you for coming in.” He takes a seat behind the desk and opens the file. “Mr. and Mrs. Cross have explained the child’s condition?”

  “Yes.”

  “Our first concern was matching her type.”

  “Mrs. Cross said it was rare?” Kelsey asks.

  “AB negative. About one percent of the population has that blood type so it makes it difficult when an AB patient needs
blood.”

  “I thought O negative could be given to anyone,” I ask. At least that’s what I’d heard.

  Dr. Prescott shakes his head. “Yes and no.”

  “What am I?” Kelsey asks.

  “AB positive.”

  “Is that good or bad?” she asks slowly. “Is it a problem that my daughter is negative and I’m positive?”

  “Not for a transfusion, no.”

  “Great, then take my blood. However much you need.”

  The side of his mouth quirks. “I wish it were that easy. A blood transfusion will help, but it’s not a cure.”

  I grab Kelsey’s hand. I know she was hoping that it would all be easy.

  “You just got a tattoo, I understand.”

  “Yes,” she and I answer at the same time.

  “That prohibits you from donating blood, and certainly not to a child that is already ill, for six months to a year.”

  “The tattoo was performed under the strictest protocols for sterilization and sanitation. There is no way Kelsey contracted any disease.”

  Dr. Prescott focuses on me. “How can I be sure?”

  “I did the tattoo.”

  He leans back and studies me. “Walk me through it. Prove to me we don’t have to worry about Kelsey contracting HIV, Hepatitis, or anything else.”

  I get that they want to be careful, and I know there are some places out there that aren’t as clean, but I’m not one of them.

  “First, all the ink was new.”

  “How new?” the doctor asked.

  “Those bottles weren’t opened until Kelsey’s tattoo. My other colors, back where I work were running low so I bought knew, fresh, more expensive ink specifically for the competition.”

  The doctor nods.

  “I poured ink into the cups, as is my practice. When I was done, the cups get tossed to avoid contamination.”

  “What about needles.”

  “Individual. Prepackaged. Sterile. Used only once and then tossed.”

  Dr. Prescott is frowning. “The law is…”

  “Look it up. The damn video is out there. It shows me getting ready to do the tat. Watch it. There is no way in hell Kelsey picked anything up from my equipment or ink.”