by Jessica Ashe
“I’m looking for Olivia Kaye,” I say between heavy breaths.
“Are you a relative?”
“Her babysitter.”
“I’m sorry, but—”
“Carly,” Marie calls out from the other side of the room. I ignore the unhelpful receptionist and run over to Marie who embraces me in a hug. She’s not crying, but she has been.
“What’s happened?” I ask.
“She collapsed at lunch. They ran some tests and apparently there’s a problem with her liver.”
“What kind of problem?”
“They don’t know for sure, but the doctor thinks it’s something called biliary hypoplasia. They’re running tests.”
“Can I see her?”
Marie nods and leads me to Olivia’s room. She’s lying on a bed either sleeping or unconscious, with tubes attached to her arms and nose. A steady beeping on the heart rate monitor provides some reassurance.
I want to throw up. I’ve never considered myself as blessed before, but seeing Olivia in this condition makes me realize I’ve never truly known fear. Until now.
I step forward cautiously until I’m close enough to hold her hand. It’s cold. There’s a bandage around her head which is partially covered with dry blood.
“She banged her head on the floor when she fell,” Marie explains. “It’s okay, though. At least, that’s not a cause for concern.”
A nurse walks in, so I step back to allow him to check up on Olivia.
“Where’s Parker?” I ask. I’m not sure if he’ll be pleased to see me, but he’ll have to drag me out of this room kicking and screaming if he wants me to leave.
“He’s getting a blood test,” Marie replies. “There’s a chance Olivia will need a liver transplant, so he wants to make sure he doesn’t have any conditions that would prevent him being a donor.”
“What type of conditions?”
“We don’t know what this is yet. Not for sure. It could be a hereditary disease, in which case Parker might have it too. A transplant from him wouldn’t be a good idea in that case. That would rule me out too.”
“Okay,” I say calmly. The feeling of nausea fades slightly as I realize there might be something I can do to help.
“‘Okay’ what?” Marie asks.
“Okay, I’ll go get my blood tested as well. I might be able to donate.”
“It should be family. Parker wouldn’t want you to go through that.”
“I don’t give a shit what he wants.” I turn to the nurse, who’s clearly listening in on our conversation. “You don’t have to be family to donate, right?”
“Technically, no,” the nurse replies. “But we do prefer it.”
“But if I’m a match…,”
“If you’re a match, and have a close relationship with the recipient, then yes, you’ll probably be able to donate.”
“There you go, then.”
“Thank you,” Marie says, hugging me again.
“I haven’t done anything yet.” I take another look at Olivia lying there on the bed completely helpless. I’m not great with needles, and I’ve never had an operation in my life. However, I’m not scared. Not when I look at Olivia.
“Where do I go?” I ask the nurse.
“Follow me,” he replies. We head to the blood lab on the far side of the hospital. The nurse has a word with a colleague and gets me to the front of the line.
It’s over in seconds, but the results won’t be ready for hours. The doctors have prioritized Olivia’s case and are working as fast as they can. That comes as a relief, but it also makes me panic. This must be urgent. Olivia is seriously ill and time might be a factor.
I rush back to Olivia’s room and find her in the same condition, except this time her father is sitting next to the bed looking terrified and helpless.
I don’t say anything. I just take a seat on the other side of the bed and hold her other hand. Now we wait.
“Thanks for coming.”
I look up at Parker. It’s the first words he’s spoken in the two hours we’ve been here.
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
Marie continues pacing up and down the room like she’s been doing almost continuously this entire time. “How much longer do we have to wait?” she asks, impatiently. “The doctor said he’d be back in an hour, and that was ninety minutes ago.”
The doctor said Olivia was ‘stable,’ but also said that he didn’t know what was wrong with her, so there’s only so much comfort I can take from that. They still think it’s biliary hypoplasia. It’s a rare disease, but it’s not life-threatening if she can get a donor. It’s also not hereditary, so Parker should be able to donate part of his liver without any problems.
“You don’t have to stay,” Parker says. “We can call you if—”
“Parker, I’m not going anywhere.”
Parker stares at me for a few seconds and then nods, before turning his attention back to Olivia. I do the same. It’s wrong seeing her like this. Even when she’s sleeping she has a constant smile on her face, as if she’s getting up to mischief in her dreams. Now she looks empty, as if everything that makes her special has disappeared.
Olivia’s been ill for weeks, but she appeared to have conquered it. The antibiotics had her almost back to her usual self. Now this.
“Mr. Kaye?”
Neither Parker nor I noticed the doctor until he was standing next to Olivia’s bed.
“Yeah,” Parker replies, groggily.
“My name is Dr. Schmidt. I’m a specialist in liver diseases and I’ve been assigned to look after Olivia.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Parker asks.
“It’s almost certainly biliary hypoplasia. I’m waiting on one more liver function test to confirm, but that is far and away the most likely diagnosis.”
“What caused it?”
“Nothing. She was born with the condition, although it isn’t thought to be hereditary. As for what triggered today’s collapse… we don’t know. Some people with biliary hypoplasia go their entire lives without losing liver function.”
“And she can be treated?”
“Yes. But she will need a liver transplant within the next month.”
This is going to be fine, I tell myself. Parker will donate part of his liver, and in a few weeks, Olivia will be back to her usual self while I tire myself out trying to keep up with her.
“I’d like to ask some questions, if I may,” Dr. Schmidt says to Parker. “Perhaps we should do this alone.”
I can’t think of any questions relating to Olivia that need to be private, but I’m also not one to question doctor’s orders.
“It’s okay,” Parker says, as I stand up. “You can stay. You too, Marie.”
The doctor hesitates, clearly not sure how to phrase the question. “You mentioned to the nurse that there were unusual circumstances behind Olivia’s birth.”
Parker nods. “Olivia’s mother died while she was still pregnant. Things were touch and go for a moment, but your people managed to save Olivia.”
Parker has an incredible ability to remain remarkably calm when talking about his wife’s death. He always says she ‘died’ instead of saying she was ‘murdered.’ Parker is a passionate man, and it still surprises me that he isn’t out there hunting for the killer every day.
“That’s unfortunate,” Dr. Schmidt says. “That the mother is dead, I mean. You see, unfortunately, Mr. Kaye, your blood type doesn’t match Olivia’s. Your blood type is AB+, whereas Olivia is O+.”
Parker clenches his fist in frustration and my world collapses in on me once again.
A silence falls on the room, until Parker has calmed down enough to talk. “Will we be able to find another donor?”
“Yes,” the doctor replies. “We have donors, however, there’s always a higher chance of success with a live donor.”
“What about me?” Marie asks.
The doctor shakes his head. “You’re AB+ as well.”
&nb
sp; I cross my fingers.
Please let me be a match.
There’s a good chance I am. I researched blood types once for a script that I abandoned before even finishing the outline. Blood type O is the most common in the US. That’s a good thing, because only people with blood type O can donate to people with blood type O. Knowing my luck, I’ll be O- which I don’t think can donate to O+. Or is it the other way around?
“What about….” I’m about to ask whether I’m a match when I trail off, lost in a thought that’s gnawing away at the back of my mind.
“Carly?” Parker asks. “What’s wrong?”
“There must have been a mistake,” I say.
“What do you mean?”
I stare up at the doctor who looks slightly uncomfortable. I remember the most useless details. I’ve missed birthdays, anniversaries, and even an exam due to my dreadful memory, and yet the rules about passing on blood types are still lodged firmly in my brain. One rule in particular….
“Olivia can’t be blood type O,” I say. “Not if Parker is AB. If there is a type AB parent then the child can’t be type O.”
“The results are correct,” the doctor replies.
I look Parker in the eyes and swallow. “Parker, I don’t know how to say this. You’re… you’re not Olivia’s father.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Parker
I know.
I’ve always known.
I don’t care. Never have done, never will.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Marie exclaims. “Of course he’s the father.”
“I’m afraid she’s right,” the doctor says. “Based on the blood types, there’s no way that Mr. Kaye is the father. Not the biological one, anyway.”
I feel three sets of eyes on me, but the only set I care about are closed. Olivia’s in a deep sleep and likely won’t wake up for hours. When she does, she’s going to be groggy and unresponsive. I want my daughter back.
“I’m not the father,” I admit. “I hoped I’d be a blood match, but….”
I can’t save my daughter. She’ll go on the list and a match will probably be found eventually, but who’s to say if the transplant will take. I’ve never felt so completely and utterly helpless.
“Parker, what’s going on?” Marie asks. “How do you know you’re not the father?”
“The dates don’t match,” I reply wearily. “When Shannon went for her first scan, our doctor narrowed down the conception to a two-week period when we’d been apart due to various business commitments. She didn’t even bother trying to come up with an excuse.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Marie asks.
“We were going to split up. I agreed to let her stay at the house and pretend we were a couple until she could find somewhere else to live. The father never stepped up to the plate. I used to hear her argue with him on the phone, and eventually, she stopped trying. By that point, it was too late. I couldn’t kick her out when she was seven months pregnant.”
No one speaks. I want to reach over and grab Carly’s hand, but I’m not sure what her response will be. She’s here for Olivia. I can’t believe I ever doubted her commitment to my child. I’ve been such a fucking idiot, and now it’s too late to do anything about it.
“Sir,” the doctor says softly, “I hate to ask, but do you know who the father is?”
“No,” I reply, with a shake of the head. “His name’s Johan Contra, but I’ve never been able to track him down.”
“That’s an unusual name,” Carly says. “He shouldn’t be hard to find.”
“I’ve had detectives look, but they can’t find any trace of him.”
“Are you sure that’s his real name?”
I nod. “It must be. I write checks to him once every month or so.”
“Wait,” Marie says, “you write checks to him? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Clearly.”
“You don’t want him to come forward,” Carly says. “You want him to stay out of your life. And Olivia’s.”
“Something like that,” I reply.
“Where do you send the checks?” Carly asks.
“To a P.O. Box.”
“I remember you asking me to post letters.”
“That was to him.”
I let go of Olivia’s hand for the first time in hours and rub my eyes. I can’t believe this is happening. I want to open my eyes and wake up in bed. Preferably next to Carly.
“What happens now?” Marie asks. “Will she get a donor from the list?”
“Yes,” Dr. Schmidt replies. “Like I said, a live donor is preferable, but as a young child she will get preferential treatment.”
“What if I find the father?” I ask.
“Assuming he could be persuaded to undergo the operation, that would be ideal.”
“I’m very persuasive.”
Dr. Schmidt nods slowly, and I get the distinct impression he will look the other way should the biological father be dragged into the hospital with a couple of black eyes.
“How long do we have?” Marie asks. “You said it was urgent.”
“It is. There’s no guarantee that the first transplant will take, so I don’t want to wait any more than two weeks to start the process.”
“I’ll find him,” I reply. “I don’t know how, but I’ll find him.”
The doctor hands me a card. “That has my direct line number. Call me if you have any questions. A nurse will be in shortly to check on Olivia, but she’s going to be fine for the time being. We have a great team here.”
“Thanks.”
The doctor heads to the exit, when a nurse meets him in the doorway and passes him a note. The doctor reads the note and looks straight over at Carly. Please God, don’t tell me she’s sick as well. I don’t know what I’d do without her here by my side. And Olivia’s going to ask for her the second she wakes up.
“Am I a match?” Carly asks the doctor.
The doctor nods. “You’re O- which means you can donate to O+.”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Carly smiles and lets out a sigh of relief which turns into tears.
“I can donate,” she replies. “I can donate my liver.”
“We prefer family members for live donations,” Dr. Schmidt says.
“But there’s no rule against it?” Carly asks. The doctor shakes his head. “Then it’s settled. I’ll do it.”
Carly didn’t even hesitate. She must have gone to the blood lab the minute she arrived. When she found out she was a match, she offered to donate part of her liver without missing a beat.
Marie’s right; I used Olivia as an excuse to avoid getting hurt. Carly might not be interested in me for anything more than a fun time, but she would do anything for Olivia.
“Can you give us a minute?” I say, while looking at Carly. The doctor and Marie leave us alone in the room with Olivia.
“What’s wrong?” Carly asks. “This is good news. We should be celebrating.”
“I can’t let you do this. It’s too big.”
“I’m sure it’s a completely safe procedure.”
“No procedure is completely safe.”
“I don’t care. I’ll take the risk.”
“She’s my daughter.” The words leave a lump in my throat and Carly looks away as I say them. I ignore it. “I’d give my life for her, but I can’t ask you to take the same risk. That’s not what you signed up for.”
It feels like a lifetime ago that Carly came to my house to interview for the job as Olivia’s babysitter. I’d thought she was hot as hell, but it never occurred to me that we’d go as far as we did.
“I know I’m not her mother,” Carly replies. “But I love this kid, and going under the knife is the least I can do. I’d never be able to live with myself if something happened to her and I didn’t at least try.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want you to have to go through this.”
She means it. She’s not just saying this out of misguided loyalty or to prove me wrong. Carly is genuinely prepared to donate part of her liver to save my daughter.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, before repeating it louder. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Carly asks with a frown.
“For how I treated you last week. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”
“Why were you angry? I thought we had fun.”
“We did. That’s the problem. I had a little too much fun.”
“Me too. I wanted to keep it going.”
“It would have ended in heartbreak.”
“I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”
“I meant mine. I should have told you this before, but I’ve fallen for you. Big time. I don’t want us to just do the crazy stuff. I want the normal stuff as well.”
“You do?”
I nod. “It’s cool that you don’t. Trust me, I’ve been the one keeping it casual more times than I can remember. I just panicked when I was on the receiving end. I never should have yelled at you.”
“No, you shouldn’t. Especially because you were wrong.”
“I know I was wrong to—”
“No, I mean you were wrong. I didn’t want it to just be about the sex either. Hell, my ass can’t take that kind of abuse every night.”
Olivia collapsing in the restaurant hit me like a truck, and now I feel like a bus has just driven over my aching body to boot. It was bad enough thinking that Carly didn’t have feelings for me. Now I know she had those feelings too, but it’s too late. I fucked it up, and she’ll never forgive me.
But I’m going to try anyway.
“Carly?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry.”