Lost Without You

by Rachael Johns

  ‘He’s right,’ had said an elderly woman whom Rebecca quickly nicknamed Pollyanna. ‘We’re lucky to live in a country where dialysis is easily accessible or many of us wouldn’t be here anymore.’

  These two had seemed unlikely friends but, like the other folk that Rebecca soon became familiar with, they’d connected over their shared kidney problems and all seemed to take their situation in their stride. She, Pollyanna, Old Biker Dude and a few others had regular matching appointments and as the machines whirred alongside them, they spoke about their everyday lives.

  She’d learnt that Old Biker Dude was actually a retired priest and had never ridden a motorcycle in his life and that Pollyanna wasn’t just knitting aimlessly each session, but making something called twiddlemuffs for dementia patients. Her husband of sixty-three years had recently been put in a care facility because he had Alzheimer’s and she could no longer look after him properly. Yet still, she was never without a smile upon her face.

  Then there was a retired footballer, a librarian about the same age as Rebecca and a young man who was studying film and television at university and had already had one kidney transplant in his teens. It was amazing how much you could learn about a person in the course of a few short hours, and, when those hours repeated themselves two or three times a week, these people came to feel like old friends.

  Occasionally, they even talked about their kidney predicaments.

  At eighty-four Pollyanna’s body was too old to handle a transplant operation but she didn’t seem at all daunted by the prospect of spending the rest of her life on dialysis. The librarian was almost two years into her stint on the deceased donor waiting list, which Old Biker Dude was also on. Both of them had mentioned how wrong it felt to be hoping someone would die so they could live free of dialysis. The young student’s boyfriend was going to be his donor, but he had another couple of months before his body would be stable enough for the operation. Now the footballer was an interesting case—not able to find a familial match and too impatient to wait for a deceased donor, he’d recently put an advert online and apparently had been inundated with responses.

  ‘Most of them are bullshit,’ he told everyone now, ‘but I’m going to meet up with this woman next week who seems genuine.’

  Rebecca wasn’t sure what to think about this possibility—the idea of asking a loved one to donate was hard enough for her to come to terms with, but a stranger?

  Why would someone do that for someone they’d never even met?

  She was the only one contemplating the Paired Kidney Exchange Program and when she’d told her fellow patients about Solomon’s offer, they’d all gushed about what a great guy her daughter must be marrying. Pollyanna understood Rebecca’s reticence but the others all thought she was crazy not to jump at her future son-in-law’s proposition.

  ‘He wouldn’t offer if he didn’t want to do it,’ had been Old Biker Dude’s analysis of the situation.

  Each session, once they’d exchanged greetings and caught up with the happenings in each other’s lives, there were quiet times where everyone got busy with their own stuff. While Pollyanna knitted, some patients did puzzle books, others read. The footballer played video games on his phone and Old Biker Dude often laughed out loud at whatever he was watching on his. The librarian was using the time to write a novel—apparently she’d spent her whole life dreaming about being a New York Times bestseller but had never actually got past the first chapter.

  ‘I guess I was always too scared of failure,’ she’d confessed to Rebecca the first time she’d admitted what she was doing. ‘But when I got my diagnosis, I suddenly knew that it would be much worse if I died without ever giving it my best shot.’

  Sometimes she let Rebecca read snippets of her work-in-progress and it was very good. Rebecca had faith that this time the librarian would finish her book and this made her think about her own dreams.

  What would she regret not achieving if she died tomorrow?

  The answer was simple. Once upon a time she’d dreamed of being a professional singer or pianist, but not achieving either of those things wasn’t something she’d lament over on her deathbed. Careers, material possessions, none of that really mattered in the end. No, she would lie there before taking her final breath, wishing she hadn’t given in to her parents’ insistence that she give up her baby. A rock formed in her stomach now at the thought. She couldn’t change the past, but she could change the future and she’d spent the last two months deliberating on this terrifying fact.

  Should she or should she not send off a request for information about her son? Could she live with the ramifications if she did?

  Perhaps the more important question was, could she live with herself if she did not?

  As Old Biker Dude chuckled beside her and the librarian tapped away on her laptop like her life depended on it, Rebecca took a deep breath and retrieved her phone from her handbag. The online address for the Department for Child Protection Western Australia was imprinted in her head. She typed it in and it only took a few short seconds for the form to appear on her screen.

  Not allowing herself any further deliberation, Rebecca started to fill it in.

  Josie

  Thank God it’s Friday. Josie sank into a bath full of bubbles, relaxed into the warm water and took a sip of her drink. A glass of wine would be the perfect accompaniment right now to her scented candles and the eighties music that blared from the dock next to the sink, but summoning all the willpower she had, she’d poured herself a glass of Diet Coke instead. It hadn’t been a bad week but she was exhausted from after-school rehearsals for the upcoming school play and had a mountain of essays she had to get through this weekend.

  No! She shook her head, refusing to even think about work. Nik would be home soon and they were going out for dinner and then to a movie. It was some action flick she wasn’t particularly keen on seeing, but then how many eighties movies had Nik sat through for her when they’d first got together?

  Josie smiled at the memory. The day after their eyes had met while she’d been singing in the pub, her car had broken down when she was on the way to the cinema. She couldn’t believe it when a car pulled over and out came the man who’d almost caused her to forget the words she’d known off by heart for years.

  ‘Do you need some help?’ he’d asked as he sauntered towards her. She saw the moment recognition dawned on his face. ‘Hey, you’re the girl from last night?’

  ‘Actually, my name’s Josie. Nice to meet you.’

  ‘Nik,’ he’d said, offering his hand.

  It was as firm and warm and lovely as she’d imagined.

  He nodded towards her car with its bonnet open skyward. ‘So, what seems to be the problem?’

  ‘Do I look like a mechanic?’ She didn’t say it in a sarcastic tone and when he grinned back, she admitted she had no idea. ‘Are you a mechanic?’

  ‘I’m an aircraft engineer but I’m not too bad with cars. Want me to take a look?’

  ‘That would be awesome. My dad’s not answering his phone and I’ve got somewhere to be soon.’

  ‘Hot date?’ he’d asked as he pushed up his sleeves and leaned in to look at the car. She swallowed at the sight of his tanned, muscly arms.

  ‘Who needs a date when I have Fantales, popcorn and Andrew McCarthy?’

  ‘Andrew McWho?’

  ‘You don’t know who Andrew McCarthy is? Actually you kinda look like him, only your hair’s darker. He’s an actor—he was big in the eighties but he works more behind the scenes now.’

  ‘So you’re going to watch a movie?’

  ‘That’s right. The local cinema is having a special screening of Pretty In Pink.’

  ‘Is that a new release?’

  ‘You haven’t heard of Pretty In Pink?’ She shook her head in disgust. ‘You better be able to fix my car or we can’t be friends.’

  He’d smiled deliciously then. ‘I’m pretty certain I can fix this.’ He fiddled with something beneath th
e bonnet. ‘Your battery connection just worked itself a little loose. Go turn the ignition, see if it starts now?’

  Josie climbed back into the driver’s seat and did as she was told. When the engine roared to life, she was kinda disappointed that it probably meant the end of her interlude with Hot Stuff.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, leaning out the open window as he closed the bonnet.

  ‘No worries.’ He wandered round to stand by her door and shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘Glad to be of service. So, are you meeting friends there?’

  ‘Meeting friends where?’ For a moment she was bamboozled by his intense gaze.

  His lips curved upwards. ‘At the movies.’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘You’re going to the movies alone?’

  She nodded. ‘I read in a magazine once that everyone should go to the cinema on their own at least once before they turn thirty—I did and discovered I liked it. But if you’d like to come with me …’

  Her cheeks burned as she propositioned him. There’d been a couple of brief liaisons with guys since she’d moved from London back to Perth, but mostly she’d been concentrating on her studies, mourning her mother and trying to ignore her broken heart.

  ‘Um …’

  At his hesitation, mortification washed over her. He’d probably just been trying to be nice. ‘Guess eighties movies aren’t your thing?’ she tried to make a joke.

  ‘It’s not that.’ He shook his head and glanced around as if he was on the run from the law. ‘What the hell? I’d love to come with you.’

  They’d talked through most of the movie and been rewarded with angry words from other cinema goers and popcorn thrown at their heads, but she’d wanted to know everything about him. He was smart and funny and good-looking and … engaged.

  Josie had almost punched him when he’d told her this fact at the end. But at least the kissing and other stuff had only been in her head by then. She’d only known him a few hours but the connection she felt with Nik, she’d never felt before, and she’d been devastated.

  A week later, she saw him sitting in the audience again when she was singing. He sought her out on her break and told her he’d broken up with his fiancée because he couldn’t get her out of his head. Despite all the voices in her head telling her it was a bad idea, she’d slept with him that night and nothing had ever felt so right.

  Things were still not perfect between her and Nik—he was watching her like a hawk and she wasn’t sure how long it would take to earn back his complete trust—but they’d been getting better, closer to normal, since she’d started seeing Clara. The bath and candles were part of the self-care Clara had suggested and the ‘date nights’ were also her idea. Josie had rolled her eyes when she’d raised these suggestions at her second visit.

  But Clara was definitely helping. It was such a bizarre thing because all they did was talk—actually Josie did most of the talking and Clara simply listened. She had no miraculous powers that would make Josie able to carry a baby to term, but she’d done more for her than any doctor ever could. They’d seen each other four times now and each time she’d left feeling physically lighter and more able to face the day than when she’d arrived. Each day she felt herself getting a little better. She’d been less snappy with the kids at school. The urges to smoke and drink had been fewer and farther between. She didn’t want to sleep all the damn time. And best of all, she no longer flinched when Nik touched her.

  Due to the music, she didn’t hear the front door open and almost drowned herself when a shadow appeared behind her in the doorway.

  ‘Holy hell,’ she said, placing her hand against her racing heart as she turned her head to take in the sight of her husband, looking movie-star sexy in his uniform, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows revealing his all-year-round tanned skin.

  ‘Sorry, sweet stuff. Didn’t mean to scare you.’ He eyed the glass in her hand. Did he think there was vodka in there or something?

  ‘It’s just Diet Coke,’ she said defensively.

  ‘What? Oh. Of course it is. No. It honestly didn’t cross my mind it would be anything else. I wasn’t looking at the glass but rather the naked body holding it.’

  Josie wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. ‘How was your day?’

  ‘We had a bit of a problem with one of the planes, but nothing I couldn’t fix.’ He kicked off his shoes, then crossed to the bathtub and stooped to kiss her on the head. ‘What about you? Did you have rehearsals this afternoon?’

  ‘No. Only Tuesdays and Thursdays, thank God.’

  Nik slid down the wall and sat beside her, leaning against it. ‘I can’t wait to see the result,’ he said and she smiled because no matter musical theatre wasn’t his favourite thing, he hadn’t missed one of the school productions she’d been involved in since they met.

  ‘Thanks. By the way, I talked to my dad today.’

  ‘Oh yeah, how is he? Planning another big trip?’

  She laughed. ‘Actually, he wanted to know what we’re doing for Christmas, whether we’re heading to Perth or whether he could come here.’

  ‘And … what did you tell him?’

  ‘I said we thought we’d head home.’

  Nik’s eyes lit up. ‘Seriously?’

  She nodded. Being around his sisters and their babies and toddlers wouldn’t be easy, but she knew how much being with his family for Christmas meant to Nik and she really was trying to make an effort. ‘Maybe Dad could come to your parents’ place for lunch with us?’

  ‘Of course he can. You know Mum. The more the merrier.’ Then he leaned over the bathtub and kissed her good and proper on the lips. ‘You’re amazing, Josephine Mitreski. And I love you too.’

  She rolled her eyes but glowed inside. ‘Feeling’s mutual.’

  Still grinning, Nik dug his phone out of his pocket. ‘By the way, I’ve got something to show you.’ He tapped the screen and turned it towards her. ‘That’s your wedding dress, isn’t it?’

  Josie sat up and the water splashed over the edge of the tub as she leaned in to scrutinise the image. It certainly looked like her dress on a pretty, dark-haired woman who appeared to be much younger than she was when she and Nik tied the knot. ‘Where’d you get that photo? Who is that?’

  ‘This is the woman who originally wore your dress. She got married in 1988.’

  Josie’s mind boggled. ‘I still don’t understand. How’d you get it?’

  He tapped the screen again and the photo shrunk, revealing it to be part of a Facebook post. ‘A mate from work shared it. This woman’s daughter is looking for the dress because she’s getting married soon and wants to wear it herself. Her mother is sick and she wants to do something special, something nice for her.’

  The post had been shared over one thousand times. If Josie hadn’t exiled herself from the online world, she’d probably have seen it herself. She skim-read the details. For someone whose mother was so ill, this Paige seemed very chirpy. She sounded like the kind of person who would put #blessed on the end of every social media post—just the kind of person that made Josie cranky. Especially lately.

  ‘It might not be mine,’ she said, flopping back into the bath. ‘There were probably hundreds of dresses like that in the eighties.’

  Nik shook his head. ‘It says this dress was a one-off. It was made by an up-and-coming designer and Paige’s mum won it at a bridal expo thing, but then she gave it away to a charity auction. I wonder if anyone else wore it in between then and me finding it for you? It’s cool knowing the history of it, don’t you think?’

  ‘Hmm …’ Josie wasn’t sure if ‘cool’ was the word she’d use. Although her dress was second-hand, or pre-loved as some people would say, she’d never thought much about the person or people who might have worn it before her. It was her dress. The dress Nik had chosen for her.

  ‘So, shall we message this Paige person?’

  Josie frowned. ‘Why?’

&nbs
p; He shook his head slowly, smiling as if he found her question cute. ‘To tell her we have the dress, of course.’

  ‘But it’s my dress. And it’s not for sale.’ She wasn’t sentimental about a lot of things, but this was different. The day he’d given her the dress was the last time she was truly happy—even though she’d discovered she was pregnant twice again after that, she’d never been able to relax. She wanted to hold onto that little bit of happiness forever.

  ‘You don’t have to give it to her. Maybe it can be her something borrowed?’

  ‘But … what if she ruins it? What if we’re a different size and she needs it taken in or expanded? What if—?’

  ‘You’re not planning on needing it again, are you?’ He sounded bemused.

  ‘No. Of course not. But …’

  ‘Look, Jose.’ Nik dipped his free hand into the water, taking her wet one in his. ‘This woman’s mum is sick and she wants to do something special, something nice for her. If we can help, don’t you think we should?’

  And that’s what won Josie over to the idea. She missed her mum so much that she understood the anguish this stranger must feel at her mother’s life being in jeopardy. At the same time she couldn’t help feeling slightly jealous that this Paige-woman still had a mum to do something special for.

  But that was a bitter thought.

  An old-Josie thought. And she’d promised Clara and Nik that she’d make a concerted effort to curb such negative thoughts. Clara was encouraging her to get outside of her grief, to do things that made her feel good about herself. Things like helping other people. Not that she believed in karma—not really—but maybe doing this good deed would in turn bring something good her way.

  She took a deep breath, squeezed Nik’s hand and said, ‘Okay. She can have it. But only on loan.’