Pure Hearts

by Jeannine Allison

  I shook my head. “Look, it’s a nice offer,” I began, trying to keep the conversation civil like my mother would want. “But you’ll change your mind. And that will just hurt my mother more. So please tell her the truth now.”

  Her brows furrowed. “Why would I change my mind?”

  “This isn’t a pencil you’re letting me borrow in algebra class or a five-dollar bill you’re loaning me so I can get a fucking sandwich. It’s a freaking organ. It’s a big decision, and not one that should be made on a whim. You saw my mother crying in a hospital chapel, I get it, you felt bad. You made a rash decision. The sooner you tell her, the better.” Civility hadn’t lasted long and my entire speech reeked of condescension.

  I closed my eyes and rested my head against my pillow, listening for the sounds of her departure. When I heard none, I cracked open one eye. She was frowning, her fingers lightly tapping the cover, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what she was thinking.

  “She can’t handle any more heartbreak or disappointment,” I tried again, softening my voice.

  “I think it’s you.” Her eyes were now sharp on mine.

  I froze. “What?”

  “Don’t worry,” she said casually before focusing her stare back down and opening her magazine once more. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

  He was staring at me like he didn’t know what to make of me. I could practically feel his eyes boring holes into my skull.

  I saw him lift his head out of the corner of my eye. “So why me?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, my gaze on the same page it’d been on for the past five minutes. “I didn’t even know who you were. But if I had, I’m sure your winning personality would have sold me.”

  “It was for my mother,” he guessed.

  “Give the kid a prize.” I smiled to soften the joke.

  Nick grunted as Catherine came fluttering back in. I closed the magazine and turned in my seat. Her smile was so big she seemed to be making up for her son’s lack of one. My lips automatically lifted. How this bitter man came from this caring, warm woman was beyond me.

  She’d just opened her mouth to speak when my phone started ringing. I caught a glimpse of the name and smiled. “Looks like it’s my turn,” I said with a laugh. I stood and excused myself. Nick seemed relieved, while Catherine urged me to hurry back.

  I ducked into the hall, almost crashing into a nurse and causing her to drop the files she was holding. I apologized and bent down to help her, but she waved me away with an impatient hand.

  “Watch where you’re going,” she muttered as she picked up the last folder before straightening and walking down the corridor, all without a backward glance at me.

  “Hi, Calla,” I greeted as soon as I answered the phone.

  “Hey.” I didn’t know how a single word could exude so much exhaustion. It had only been two weeks, but my sister was clearly feeling the effects of being a new mother.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. I just miss my baby sister.” I could hear the smile in her voice and it lessened some of my concern.

  Exhaling, I said, “Me too. I’m sorry I haven’t stopped by. I’ve been at the hospital a lot this week and—”

  “The hospital?” Her voice spiked with alarm. “Are you okay? Why—?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I rushed to assure her before I stopped, suddenly remembering she had no clue what was going on.

  “Oh, okay. Good. What are you doing there?”

  “I’m… I’m meeting with a mom and her son.” She stayed silent. “When you were admitted a few weeks ago, I met this woman, Catherine, in the hospital chapel. She was upset over her son. He was in an accident.”

  Calla was still quiet, but somehow it seemed more pronounced now. I tried to figure out the best way to word this. After a few pointless seconds, I realized there was no gentle way to tell her. “I’m giving him one of my kidneys.”

  I held my breath. Truthfully, I had no clue how Calla would react. She wasn’t like Aster.

  He could easily turn a blind eye to a homeless man on the street. I’d even seen him throw some looks of disdain their way. That wasn’t to say he was a bad person, but he would only help those he felt were worthy. He had no sympathy for those who made poor choices or whose actions caused disastrous consequences.

  I never understood how he looked at everyone and saw only the bad; why not choose to see the good? Maybe it made me naive or foolish, but I didn’t want to live my life seeing the worst in people. How was it my place to judge the worst thing a person’s ever done?

  But Calla wasn’t like me either. She thought I trusted too easily too.

  “You w-what?” she stuttered over the phone, sounding slightly panicked.

  I exhaled. “I’m donating my kidney.”

  More silence.

  “Iris—”

  “No,” I cut her off, hoping I could stop her before she said the same things Mom, Dad, and Aster had. “I know your concerns are going to come from a good place, and I respect your opinions, but I need to do this.”

  “How will it work with school? You already missed a few days for Mirielle’s birth.”

  “It’s not like I’m in a hospital bed being rolled into surgery right now.” I gave a small laugh, trying to cut the tension. “The procedure won’t be for a couple months. It’ll be in the middle of summer and will give me plenty of time to rest.”

  Calla was quiet. She wouldn’t be as vocal as Aster, but I really needed one person completely on my side right now. And since that was usually my sister, I didn’t think I could handle her not standing by me.

  My eyes moved to the room across the hall. I watched the nurse from earlier, the one who gave me the stink-eye, help a patient from her bed to a wheelchair. The little girl couldn’t have been any older than eight or nine, and she looked terrified. Her wide eyes were bouncing between her parents who were arguing in the corner of her room. From what I could gather, they were divorced and the father had their daughter when she got into some kind of accident.

  “This is your fault!” the mother screamed before poking him in the chest. “You’re a terrible father.”

  Looking back at the girl, I saw her upper lip tremble and her tiny hands shake as she gripped onto her hospital gown. The nurse knelt down in front of her and grabbed her hands. I was too far away to hear what she said since she wasn’t yelling, but the girl giggled and nodded, forgetting all about her parents and the unforgivable shouts they were hurling at each other. Shouts which were hurting their daughter more than they would ever hurt each other.

  The nurse stood and walked over to her patient’s parents. They appeared shocked and a little chagrined at whatever she said, and both nodded before the nurse wheeled the little girl, still smiling, away and down the hall.

  My lips lifted. This was what I always tried to explain to Aster.

  Why would I choose to remember her snide comment to me, when I could remember the wonderful way she made that girl’s day a little brighter? It seemed like a no-brainer.

  “Okay,” my sister whispered into the phone. “Just be careful.”

  As we said our goodbyes, I tried to figure out what was causing the more-than-average apprehension in her voice.

  I was still lost in my thoughts, staring at the ground, when someone tapped me on the arm. Looking up, I saw the nurse from earlier standing in front of me, her hands tucked into the pockets of her scrubs.

  “Hey,” she began slowly, clearly embarrassed. “I wanted to apologize about before.” She waved her hand toward the area where her papers had fallen. “I wasn’t paying attention either. I’d…” The nurse gave me a wobbly smile as her eyes started shimmering with tears. “I had just delivered some bad news to a patient.”

  My lips curved down and I put a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry to hear that. Don’t worry about earlier.” When I smiled she seemed relieved.

  “Thank you.” A code went out and she gave me a quick nod
before dashing down the hall along with a few other medical professionals. My grin inched up even higher as I turned back toward Nick’s room.

  Catherine and Nick were exchanging heated whispers when I walked back in.

  “Sorry, should I head back out?” I pointed to the hallway.

  “Nonsense.” Catherine stood. “We were just finishing up.”

  I smiled at Nick, hoping his mother had managed to make him less ornery. The glare he was sending me indicted she had not. Catherine started talking about the weekly dinners she and Nick always had, completely oblivious to her son’s distrust and growing displeasure with my presence.

  “You know what would be wonderful?” she asked as she sat on the edge of her son’s bed, her body facing me. “If you came over and joined us for dinner on Sunday.”

  I saw Nick shoot up a little from the corner of my eye, clutching his midsection when he moved too fast.

  “Oh, Nicky.” His mother stood up and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Take it easy.” She walked around his bed, where there were fewer cords and machines, and begin fussing with his pillows. Catherine smiled over at me. “But really, you must come over, dear.”

  “I—”

  “Ma,” he said, cutting me off. “Don’t put her on the spot.” Looking at me, he said, “Sorry about her. We’re sure you’re very busy and have no time.” Nick nodded and grabbed his phone, effectively ending the conversation before it had really begun. He refused to look at his mom, who was glaring at him.

  “I’d love to come.”

  Nick’s head whipped in my direction, and when his mother’s expression brightened and she skipped back around to hug me, his mouth dropped open. I met his eyes. He seemed shocked, like he couldn’t possibly believe I’d be defiant. Just because I wanted to make people happy didn’t mean I let them walk all over me to do it.

  He was about to learn there was a lot more to me than met the eye.

  Two months later…

  The procedure went smoothly and I was resting in my hospital room. My head was tipped back and my eyes were closed, a content smile on my face as I thought about the last two months.

  Much to Nick’s dismay, I came over every Sunday for dinner like Catherine wanted. They usually alternated but since Catherine was staying at his place until the surgery, the dinners were at his apartment.

  I couldn’t be sure, but I didn’t think his surly attitude was about my presence alone. He seemed itching for her to go back home so he could be alone.

  Catherine hardly let him do anything. The first few weeks I could understand—he’d still looked pretty banged up. But he seemed a lot better toward the end. It hadn’t mattered. I was pretty sure the only time she let him do something for himself was when he went to the bathroom. Otherwise, she took care of it. I could tell it bothered Nick, but while he may have been a jerk to me, he was near saintly with his mother. He never said a thing.

  Aster would have yelled at our mom on day one.

  Perception was funny that way. At first glance one might look at Aster and see an upstanding son, someone who was compassionate and well-mannered, and he was, but only in the public eye. To his family and close friends he was something entirely different. Not bad, just not as thoughtful as he initially appeared. While Nick, who appeared cold and grumpy, had the softest spot in the world for his mother, and no doubt his friends too.

  Unfortunately he never saw me that way. The dinners had been an odd combination of pleasant and awkward since the Blakes clearly didn’t have the same feelings toward me. Eight meals with Catherine’s bright smile and kind words, while Nick glowered at me every time she turned her back. Anytime I tried to ask him a question he shut the conversation down with one-word answers.

  There was clearly a story there. No one arbitrarily decided to be a distrusting jerk. A few times I’d lain awake at night and thought about what his story could be. He had a wonderful mother, and she mentioned two very close friends that Nick had known since childhood. Maybe it had something to do with his father?

  I didn’t know much, but one night, after Nick had excused himself to his room and Catherine offered me some coffee, she told me a bit about her life. Including the fact that Nick’s father left them when Nick was eight years old.

  My mind constantly worked, trying to figure out what could have happened to make him so rigid. At first glance he seemed like any other guy. Light brown hair that was slightly longer on top than the sides. Warm, chocolate brown eyes that he had the ironic ability to make cold as ice. His upper lip and jawline were covered in a thin layer of dark brown hair, hints of his skin peeking through. It looked well-maintained, while also giving off a messy, I-don’t-care-what-I-look-like vibe. Nick was a couple inches taller than me, maybe around six foot, and even though he didn’t look ripped, it was obvious he took care of himself.

  Then there was his smile… so elusive, yet undoubtedly beautiful.

  Every girl had a kryptonite when it came to a guy’s physical appearance. Some were normal: abs, eyes, tattoos. And some were weird. Like my college roommate, Anita, who was strangely attracted to toes. I still shuddered whenever I thought about it. But to each their own.

  My kryptonite? Dimples.

  I couldn’t resist a man with dimples. It was a tantalizing combination of sexy and cute that had rendered me speechless on a few occasions in high school.

  And, of course, Nick had dimples. He made it hard for me to tell since he was constantly scowling at me. And when he did smile—always at his mother—he would duck his head, like he couldn’t even let me see someone else make him happy. But I’d caught a glimpse of them; now if only I could figure out a way to have them aimed at me.

  I mean, I gave the man my kidney, the least he could do was flash me a dimple…

  Loud knocks on my bedside table jolted me from my loopy thoughts—I could blame the pain medication, right?

  “Iris?”

  I jerked at the sound of Aster’s voice. He’d come up for the procedure and had been here for about an hour visiting me. Things had been a little tense between us since I announced my decision two months ago.

  “Sorry, what were you saying?” I asked.

  Sighing, he leaned forward in his chair. “I was telling you about my date with Becky.”

  “Oh, right. How was it?”

  He shook his head. “It was okay. I don’t know if we’re going to go on another.”

  “Why not?” I asked with a frown.

  “I wasn’t feeling it.” He shrugged and started playing with the clasp on his watch.

  “This isn’t some preteen movie where there’s butterflies and sparks. It takes time.”

  “Maybe…” Aster sighed and leaned forward, his complete attention on me. “Look, Iris, I wanted to talk to you about what I said a couple months ago, when you told us about all this…”

  Sitting up straighter, all signs of being loopy gone, I reached for my brother. “Aster—”

  I cut myself off as our heads swiveled toward a voice outside the door. I exhaled, recognizing Catherine’s exuberance, just before she entered.

  “Iris, dear, I thought—” She stopped in the doorway when she saw Aster sitting next me. “Oh. I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “No, no. Don’t be silly.” I smiled and waved her forward. She had yet to meet any of my family.

  She looked oddly sad as her gaze shifted between the two of us.

  “Is everything okay? Is it Nick?” I asked, my smile dropping and panic taking over. She seemed fine when she first walked in, but I couldn’t imagine what else would put a frown on her face right now.

  “He’s fine. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. Nicky’s doing excellent. The doctor is hopeful that he’ll make a full recovery.”

  I relaxed against the bed. “Thank God.”

  Aster shifted around awkwardly, and I knew it was because of his original reluctance to support my decision. I could see the guilt creeping into his expression. Despite
the weirdness from Aster, Catherine rounded the bed and held her hand out to him.

  “Hi. I’m Catherine. Nicholas’s mother.”

  “Oh.” He discreetly wiped his palm on his pants before placing his hand in hers. “I’m Aster.”

  Her smile was warm and genuine, back to the bubbly woman I knew. “Well, it’s lovely to meet you.” She stepped away and dropped his hand.

  “I’ll just… uh…” He hitched a finger toward the door before hurrying out.

  “Was it something I said?” Catherine joked.

  “No. He just isn’t all that comfortable with this.” I waved my hand in the direction of the beeping machines and the wires that hooked me up to them. Her lips dipped down as she sat on the bed and took my hand. It always looked strange on her. Almost as if she frowned so infrequently her lips were having a hard time remembering what to do.

  “You didn’t feel pressured, did you?”

  “What? I—”

  Before I could continue Catherine started talking again, staring down at her hand, the one not holding mine and gripping a crucifix instead. She never was without it in the hospital. “Nick said you might’ve felt that way.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “And with you saying how Aster was uncomfortable… I’m sorry if I made this hard on you. If I—”

  “Stop.” Her head snapped up. “All you asked me for was a hand to hold while you prayed. Nothing else. You had no way of knowing what I was going to do. I had two months to think on this. And I’d been thinking about becoming a living donor before I met you. You didn’t pressure me into a single thing. Except maybe trying that falafel last month, which I must say, was delicious and one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.”

  Catherine’s unnatural frown quickly gave way to a smile. “It was good falafel, wasn’t it?”

  “The best,” I seconded.

  “Your only.” She grinned.