by Iris Parker
Jessie was silent for a moment, staring off into space. She took a deep breath, her chest rattling from the effort. “You’re sorry? I deliberately ruined your life, and you’re sorry? I’m a monster!”
“No,” I answered, pulling Jessie a little closer with my arm. “You’re not a monster. You’re just a woman who was willing to sacrifice everything to save her child. I’m not going to hate you because you refused to watch your family die.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” I said, stepping forward to meet Jessie halfway and hugging her tightly. “You love him, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Ezra is lucky to have you, and I couldn’t have asked for a better mother to my children.”
Jessie shuddered in my arms, crying softly into my chest. Stroking her hair my hand, I finally put into words the feeling I’d experienced yesterday in the café.
“I forgive you,” I said gently. “And you need to forgive yourself. From now on, it’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.”
Jessie
I nervously sat on the chair in Dr. Flint’s waiting room, wondering if I’d made the right choice. Even Alton had agreed that it made sense to wait before we broke the news to Ezra. He’d been so excited just meeting Alton, the hockey player, that there was no way his already-exhausted system could handle meeting Alton, his long-lost biological father. Even a healthy kid wouldn’t be able to sleep for a week after something like that, and Ezra was getting dangerously little rest as it was.
I squirmed in my seat, more and more uncomfortable. Alton gave me a look of concern, but I couldn’t help it. It seemed like my entire life had become an endless labyrinth of elaborate lies. I’d lied to Alton, I’d lied to myself, and now I’d even lied to Ezra. The happy ending I’d been dreaming about, the one that had carried me through the darkest hours of the night, had vanished under my feet.
I wrung my hands in confusion, not quite able to understand what I was doing sitting next to Alton in the waiting room. I’d expected his anger, expected his hate, expected even threats of legal action. But what I’d not been prepared for was how quickly that anger dissipated, replaced by a sincere desire to understand and help.
Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that Alton would be willing to join us, to share our pain.
“Jessie, Mr. Greene, come on in,” Dr. Flint said, calling us back to his office personally. The secretary gave us a curious look as we passed by, but didn’t comment.
“So what brings you here?” Dr. Flint asked as we sat down across from him. “You said it was urgent.”
“Yes,” I said quietly, feeling withdrawn from the world. After so many disappointments it was hard to stay optimistic, and round after round of failed chemo had been wearing me down for years. Not to mention the pregnancy, which only made everything that much harder.
It’s not that I’d given up. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to save Ezra—the child growing inside of me was proof of that—but it seemed like all the hope had been burned away. I would still fight to the end, but I knew better than to put all my faith in another unlikely miracle.
“I believe the two of you have already met,” I said, addressing Alton and Dr. Flint equally. “So I’ll get right to the point. Alton is Ezra’s father.”
Dr. Flint didn’t even flinch at the news, his demeanor remaining cool and professional as he nodded.
Alton spoke up a moment later, explaining the reasons behind our visit—that he’d only recently learned of his paternity, and wanted to know more about Ezra’s condition. Dr. Flint obliged, and we spent the next half-hour listening to him explain Ezra's leukemia and the treatments he'd been through so far.
“Unfortunately, the baby isn't a genetic match to Ezra and we won't be able to use her cord blood,” the doctor concluded, and I wondered what he thought of the mess we were in, or if he even remotely understood it.
“You’re telling me there’s nothing left you can try?” Alton said at last, incredulous. I remembered my own shock and anger years ago, back when Ezra was first diagnosed with cancer.
“Almost. The chemo isn’t working, nor the more pioneering treatments. Cord blood donation is out of the question. There is, however, one last possibility,” the doctor continued, and my heart leapt into my throat. “Bone marrow donation. We hadn’t found a good match so far, but things have changed drastically since the last time I spoke with you, Jessie,” Dr. Flint said, a hint of humor showing through his usual grave professionalism as he winked at Alton.
My heart pounded in my chest and ears, the meaning behind Dr. Flint's words suddenly clear. Ezra had been on the transplant list for months now, but no compatible donor had been found. But of course, Alton was Ezra’s biological father. There was a good chance that he could be a match.
I looked at Alton, who was listening to every one of Dr. Flint’s words like they were the gospel. It was probably the same look I’d had when I first heard about cord blood donation, and while I desperately wanted to get my hopes up, I knew from experience that everything could still go horribly wrong.
Still, I was incredibly grateful that Alton was willing to try. The man I’d misjudged so badly really did want to help, that much was now obvious. After Alton agreed to begin the tests tomorrow morning, the two of us returned to Ezra’s room. We’d been with him all day, and my mother had recently shown up to hold her overnight vigil—anything to stop him from being scared and alone.
We said good night to him, promising that I’d be back before breakfast tomorrow. With one last wink from Alton, the two of us left the room and headed for the parking lot.
“You look very pale, Jessie,” Alton commented as we walked together.
“I'm fine, just tired.”
“Eating enough? Getting enough rest?”
“I'm doing what I can,” I promised, cringing as I couldn't quite remember when my last proper meal—if you can call a tuna sandwich with pickles proper—had been. But there was no time to lose, I was running a tight ship, between work and attending to Ezra's every need.
“Are you rested enough?”
“Yes,” I lied. The baby moved and kicked a little, and I felt instantly guilty for the new deception. But the truth was that between taking care of Ezra, my job, and being five months pregnant, I didn’t have a single moment to take care of myself. After everything Alton was doing to help I didn’t want to worry him further, nor to whine about how much I needed a break.
We made it to the parking lot, but Alton refused to let me go until I promised to take better care of myself tonight. The look of concern on his face faded when I finally agreed, and he once again looked like the man who’d romanced me so beautifully in Atlantic City. It triggered an avalanche of memories as a sudden flash of awareness ran through my body.
If I was being honest with myself, Atlantic City was the last good memory I had. After years of struggle and fear, I’d been able to open up and actually relax for the first time—the only time—since Ezra was diagnosed. It was all thanks to Alton and that bright, mischievous smile of his. Or maybe it was the rough touch of his hands, or the caring embrace he'd enveloped me in as we parted.
Saying goodbye to him had been where the good memory ended, and the bad ones returned in force. It had been so difficult to leave, so hard to go through with my last lie. I told him we’d meet again soon, fully believing that I’d never get the chance to see him again. Part of me must have realized the truth about Alton even then, but never did I imagine we’d reconnect and that he’d be willing to undergo a bone marrow transplant for Ezra's sake.
I returned Alton’s smile, pushing away the awful feeling I’d violated such a good man so completely, upending his whole life in the process. Atlantic City seemed like a lifetime ago, I thought as I waved goodbye and got into my car.
Remembering that I’d promised Alton I would take better care of myself, I headed to the kitchen after I got back home. My pantry was pretty empty, but I was able to pour some brown rice and assorted v
eggies into a pot before I took a quick shower. Once everything was done, I forced myself to eat while I sat at my small table, away from the laptop. It cost precious time I didn’t actually have, but part of me was satisfied by knowing that I’d honored my word to Alton.
After that I hurried upstairs to my office, already thinking about the tangled mess I’d left my latest report in. I’d just barely had time to request a 24-hour extension on it earlier today, but now I had a long night ahead of me if I wanted it finished by tomorrow morning.
So far my boss at WBSX had been understanding and caring, but I didn’t want to push my luck more than I already had. His discovery of my pregnancy had almost been a breaking point, and none of my coworkers understood why I’d allow myself to get pregnant under such dire circumstances.
Given that my motivations were far worse than anything they probably could’ve imagined, I’d simply refused to talk about it. It had become more important than ever to prove myself, to show that I was still capable of working harder than I ever had before. I wasn’t stupid though. I’d been skating on thin ice for a long time now, and to them I’d inexplicably decided to start juggling flaming torches in the middle of my routine.
I lived in fear of being fired every day. But there was nothing I could do about that, and I had neither the time nor the energy to worry about one more thing.
My laptop’s screen snapped to life, still displaying the email I’d written that morning. Ice filled my veins when I saw that there had been no reply to it, and with dread I clicked back to the main display.
In the end, I was only surprised that I wasn’t surprised.
Sitting on top of all the unanswered mail was a message from HR. I didn’t even need to read the subject line before I knew what I was in for, and a sudden sob bubbled up in my throat. Fat tears rolled down my cheeks as I opened the mail, confirming the news that had almost been late in coming.
I was fired.
Alton
“The chances are actually quite low,” Dr. Flint had reminded me, further driving home the point. The odds of a viable genetic match, one that would allow for a stem cell transplant, were actually worse between a father and son than they were between siblings.
And we all knew how that had turned out.
I threw a furtive look at Jessie, who was still napping in the armchair next to Ezra’s bed. Even though her back was slumped into the plush old leather, and her head was lolled forward, she still looked painfully rigid. You can learn a lot about a person by watching them sleep, and I was learning that these days Jessie couldn’t even find solace in her dreams.
If anything, she actually looked worse now. While I’d been wound up tighter than a spring, Jessie had been great with Ezra all morning. Her sleep was well-deserved, and it was sad that it only allowed her to relax just enough to stop hiding how miserable she was. At least Ezra didn’t seem to notice; the boy was completely mesmerized by a Rangers game on TV.
I hadn’t known him for very long, but already the little guy—with his big eyes and sad smile—had captured all of my affection. Despite the constant pain and fatigue caused by the leukemia, he was as bright and vivacious as any kid I’d seen. He was still full of life and passion, and I was rooting for him hard.
Despite Dr. Flint and Jessie both cautioning me to not get my hopes up, I couldn’t help but do exactly that. The fighter in me revolted at the thought of giving up, pushing me on to attack the disease however I could. I desperately wanted this story to end differently, to be able to come through for a change.
A loud knock on the door startled Jessie awake, and her eyes darted to me in a panic. I gave her a reassuring smile, hoping to help banish whatever demons she’d been facing in her sleep. The door opened a moment later, and Dr. Flint himself was standing in the hallway.
For a second, it felt as if my heart had frozen. This could well be the moment of truth, the results of the genetic testing that we’d been waiting so anxiously for. The doctor’s face gave little away as Jessie and I hurried to our feet, quickly joining him in the hallway.
The door closed behind us, and the doctor’s neutral expression broke into an obvious grin.
“It’s a match!” he said with a big smile, and suddenly I could breathe again.
Jessie gasped and brought her hands up to her face with the restrained happiness of someone who’d seen too much. I wanted to spin her around and hold her in my arms, but even I could see that there was still a long road ahead. The donation, the actual transplant, the stretch of watching and waiting that had to follow. Ezra’s body might accept the procedure and begin producing untainted blood, but it was also possible it could reject the marrow. My heart tugged, even as I thanked Dr. Flint profusely.
After instructing me to arrange the details with a nurse, the doctor excused himself. I looked over at Jessie, whose face had lit up with hope. I wanted to say something, but the words flew out of my mind as I got my first real glimpse of her in half a year—she was again the Jessie I remembered from Atlantic City, not the one who’d been so consumed by pain that I could barely recognize her.
I’d been wrong when I assumed that she was doing a better job of keeping her hopes in check. She looked absolutely radiant now, a giddy smile that stretched from ear to ear while her eyes sparkled and reflected the hallway’s light. Color had returned to her face at last, a healthy pink glow that made me long to touch her.
With a bubbling laugh she practically threw herself into my arms, a happy sigh escaping her lips as I held her.
“I don’t want to get my hopes up,” she whispered to me, her eyes still shining. “But this is so unexpected. A compatible donor! We’ve been looking for so long, and there you were all this time. Thank you so much, Alton.”
“I’m just so glad I can help,” I whispered back, watching as the sparkle in her eyes turned to slow tears. She was undeniably happy, but already the euphoria was fading a little as reality reasserted itself. She knew as well as I did that Ezra wasn’t out of the woods yet, that any number of things could still go wrong.
But today, that wasn’t what mattered.
Today, we were just happy to give him a fighting chance.
Chapter Five
Jessie
I paced up and down the room, Alton’s eyes following my every movement. I felt short of breath as I watched silhouettes moving behind the thick plastic walls of the sterile room next door, Dr. Flint talking to a very animated Ezra. My heart pounded and I wished I could be in there with them, but I knew it was an unnecessary risk and so we had to wait.
Ezra looked a little healthier today, as he had every day for the past two weeks. So far everything seemed to be going well, filling me with hope and happiness. But it also filled me with fear—no matter how many milestones we climbed past, a part of me couldn’t help but look down and see just how far we could still fall.
Alton was the only thing that’d kept me sane, sharing the burden and reassuring me when my fears threatened to overwhelm me. The past two months had been a whirlwind of emotions, a constant battle between hope and despair. Ezra had gotten worse before he started to get better. The pre-transplant chemotherapy had destroyed his own cells to make way for Alton's healthy bone marrow.
The process had left us with a very sick boy I could hardly recognize, and that had only been the beginning. The transplant itself came with devastating side effects, everything from headaches to nausea to ulcers and difficulty breathing. All we could do was watch him struggle, since he needed to stay in a sealed environment. Without a functioning immune system, even the slightest exposure to illness could’ve proven deadly.
And then slowly the graft took, and one day Ezra's body started producing healthy white blood cells. And then platelets. And then red blood cells. And then the color came back to his cheeks, and even if he was only a shadow of his former bubbly self, we could all see that Ezra's health was improving drastically.
Watching his recovery had been a miracle, but I still couldn’t let myse
lf relax. Maybe it was cowardice, but I wanted to spend my precious energy on dealing with the present. I wanted to make Ezra’s current life as good as possible, not to put my head in the clouds and dream about a future that still loomed with uncertainty.
But today felt special. Alton could feel it too, and we both indulged in the audacity to hope. Dr. Flint was visiting Ezra officially, and maybe that meant good news was coming. I stopped pacing long enough to look back at Alton, who patted the seat next to his encouragingly. I nodded and sat down, taking a deep breath to steady myself.
“Thank goodness you sat down, I was beginning to worry you were going to wear a hole through the floor,” Alton joked, squeezing my shoulder to release some of the tension I’d built up. I stuck my tongue out at him playfully, glad he was here. He returned the gesture and I giggled, marveling at how boyish he could be at times. I actually liked that quality about him—it was part of how he’d helped save me from so many nights of anguish, the way it seemed as if he could look into my soul and always knew just what to do.
Sometimes it meant saying or doing something so ridiculous that I couldn’t help but smile. Sometimes it involved pushing me into sheer indulgence, apparently not caring in the slightest if I gained a little weight. One night, after a particularly scary day post-transplant, he’d ordered a delivery of the most ridiculously oversized, eclectic bag of sweets that I’d ever seen. As impressed as I’d been by his stunt with the ice cream in Atlantic City, I could see now that it was basically a warm-up.
And sometimes, he helped me by taking care of Ezra. Just after the transplant, when Ezra was still beginning his long recovery process in the sterile isolation room, Alton had shown up with a brand new smartphone. It was a gift, allowing Ezra to stay in touch with his friends by using a video chat app. That generosity had meant the world to me, but Alton was only just getting started.