The Kidney Hypothetical

by Lisa Yee

  “No.”

  “Do you know anyone who lives near here?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, let’s eat!”

  The restaurant was only half full. White tablecloths, candles. Monarch couldn’t decide between two entrées, vegetarian lasagna and a three-cheese calzone, so she got both. I got the spaghetti. She tried ordering a glass of wine.

  “I’m sorry, if you don’t have proper ID, I can’t serve you any alcohol,” the waitress said to an unhappy Monarch.

  “But in France everyone drinks,” Monarch argued.

  The waitress smiled wearily. “I wish we were in France, but we’re not.”

  “So tell me more about your parents,” Monarch said later as she poured an endless amount of sugar into her iced tea.

  “My dad’s a dentist,” I told her.

  “A dentist?” she said.

  “There’s nothing wrong with being a dentist,” I said defensively. “He’s pretty successful. He has four offices. He wants me to join his dental practice.”

  “Do you want to?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” she said. “Do you want to?”

  I hesitated. “I’m not sure,” I heard myself saying. “If I didn’t become a dentist, my mom and dad would be devastated.”

  “You’re avoiding my question,” Monarch pointed out. Was I? “Nothing like a little parental pressure,” she continued matter-of-factly. “As I see it, you bend to their will, spend a lifetime doing something you hate, become miserable, and then force your own son or daughter to follow in the family footsteps.”

  Through two straws, Monarch took a long sip of her iced tea. “But enough about the joys of dentistry,” she said. “What about your mother — is she a dentist too? Don’t tell me this is a family thing? That would be double the pressure. And if your grandparents were dentists, that would be a goddamn dental dynasty.”

  “My grandfather was a dentist,” I admitted. I reached for a breadstick and held it like a cigarette. “My mom was a scientist at JPL, Jet Propulsion Lab, but quit to stay home with my sister and me.”

  “Will she go back to work now that you’re heading off to college?”

  I had never thought to ask her.

  Monarch took my silence to mean something else. “Oh, that’s right,” she said. “You’re not going to Harvard.”

  “Thanks for reminding me.” I broke the breadstick in half and chewed on it.

  After dinner, the waitress, who was not that much older than us, came to the table. “Is there anything else I can get for you?” she said, setting down the check.

  “Can we have some to-go boxes?” Monarch asked.

  As she went to get boxes, Monarch reached toward the check. I put my hand over hers. “I’ll get this,” I told her.

  “I said that dinner would be on me,” she reminded me.

  The waitress came back with empty containers, which Monarch filled, even taking all the bread from the basket. I watched her slip the salt and pepper shakers into her big purse and a fork and knife too.

  While the waitress was busy taking an order on the other side of the room, Monarch leaned in and whispered, “We’re going to make a run for it.”

  “But you haven’t paid yet —”

  “What? You suddenly got morals?” she asked.

  I bristled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “What exactly did you do to raise Harvard’s suspicion?” Monarch’s eyes flicked mischievously. She lowered her voice. “Higgs, were you a naughty boy?”

  “It’s not like anyone was hurt,” I insisted.

  As I explained the Society for Animal Protection, I felt as if I was at confession and Monarch was the priest. Only, when I was done, instead of absolving me, she declared, “Goddamn, Higgs Boson Bing, you’re gonna burn in hell!”

  Monarch held the flame in front of my face. I stared at the rooster on the lighter before pushing her hand away. “Gee, thanks for the reassuring words.”

  “You cheated on your Harvard application, and don’t see anything wrong with that. Double standard, Mr. Bing?”

  I shook my head. “No, the Harvard thing was different. I would have gotten in even if I hadn’t sent the video.”

  “Then why did you include it?”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t think I’d get caught,” I answered, though it came out more like a question.

  Why did I include it? I wondered.

  “Anyway, that’s apples and oranges,” I said. “If we leave here without paying, it’s stealing.”

  Monarch’s eyes flashed. “I don’t believe you. You are such a hypocrite. What, do you have a sliding scale of right and wrong?”

  Why did I include SAP? It made no sense.

  Monarch was waiting for an answer.

  “I … I … Look,” I said, trying to focus on dinner. “If not paying is about the money, I have money,” I told her. “Just let me pay.”

  “This isn’t about the money,” Monarch said. “It’s about whether or not you have the guts.”

  “The guts to what?” I asked. “Break the law? Screw the restaurant over?”

  The guts to see if I could get away with SAP? Was that it?

  “The guts to not do what’s expected of you. To live on the edge. To be a rebel, Higgs.” Monarch gave me a sly smile. “I gotta admit, I sort of admire that you put that SAP thing on your application.”

  “You do?”

  “HELL yeah! Damn, Higgs. It was like you were giving the finger to the whole Ivy League thing,” she said, smiling. “You’re more of a man than I thought you were. So then, shall we continue your rebel streak and flee this place?”

  I had never dined and dashed before. Nick had told me that when people skipped out on paying their bills at B-Burger, the money came out of the wages of the people who worked there. I was torn between impressing Monarch, who didn’t seem to have a problem with screwing the restaurant over, or doing the right thing.

  Monarch looked pleased with herself, like the cat that caught a mouse.

  “Okay, here’s how we will do it,” she said, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “I’ll get up and pretend that I’m going to the bathroom, when really, I’ll slip out the back door. Give me five minutes. After that, you get up — be sure to take the to-go containers — and just walk out the front door. I’ll be waiting for you in the car.

  “The key here is to act perfectly normal,” she instructed me. “When you act like you know what you are doing, people will believe anything. You’d be surprised. If we get stopped, each of us will pretend we thought the other person had paid. You got it?”

  I nodded. I felt ill, and wasn’t sure if it was because of what I was about to do with Monarch, or because of what I did with SAP.

  Monarch’s eyes lit up in anticipation. She looked absolutely radiant. “Let’s do this!” she whispered as she rose and headed to the back of the restaurant.

  I rushed out the front door and hurled myself into Rolvo.

  “We did it!” Monarch cried gleefully as she threw the car into drive. “Wasn’t that fun?”

  The truth was, it wasn’t fun at all. It was so painful I began to break out in hives. I was about to get up and make a clean getaway, when the waitress headed toward my table. “Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked.

  “No, I’m fine,” I lied.

  I wondered what Monarch would say if she knew that I paid the bill, then, out of guilt, left a 30 percent tip, plus a couple of extra dollars to cover the salt and pepper shakers and the silverware.

  “So Higgs, you appear to have a criminal streak,” Monarch said approvingly. “Maybe you can become a con man now that you’re not going to college. What is college good for anyway? Hey, I know! We can get the two-for-one special diploma for Dine ’n’ Dash. I’ll bet Harvard doesn’t offer that.”

  “Just because they’re reevaluating my application doesn’t mean I’m not going the
re,” I said weakly.

  “Let’s think about this,” Monarch said, suddenly looking pensive. “Maybe there was another student who didn’t lie, but didn’t get in because you took their place. Maybe you took their place because your daddy pulled some strings. But maybe another student would have gone on to cure cancer or stop the wars, or fix global warming, but since they didn’t get into Harvard, they got all depressed and just sat on their couch and watched TV and ate chips, and this caused them to have high cholesterol and gave them an early heart attack, and they died young. Have you considered that, Higgs?”

  “Someone might die because I exaggerated?”

  “You bet,” she said, crossing herself the way Nick used to before every debate. “Really though, did you really think you were going to get away with that?”

  Maybe Samantha was right about my moral compass being broken.

  “I don’t get it,” I protested. “What’s with you? Do you want me to lie and cheat, or not lie and cheat? What do you want?”

  “What do you want, Higgs? Really, what do you want? College? Harvard? That whole entitlement thing?”

  “You think I’m a jerk just because I’m going to Harvard. Wait. Correction. Might go to Harvard.”

  “I think you’re a bourgeoisie jerk for even wanting to go there in the first place. Do you know what kind of people go to places like that?” Monarch didn’t wait for my answer. “Rich people who don’t give a shit about others. Rich people who live off of their daddy’s money, and live in a bubble, and are too scared to stand up for themselves.”

  Clearly this was a sore point for her.

  “Did you take an SAT class?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  “Did you have a college admissions coach?”

  I nodded.

  “Did you apply to multiple colleges?”

  I nodded.

  “Did you retake your SAT to bring your average up?”

  I nodded.

  “Did your parents pull strings to help you?”

  I nodded.

  “Well?” she said.

  “Well now you’ve made me feel like shit,” I said. I looked out the window at the streetlights rushing past.

  “Some people really have to struggle to get into college,” she said. “Others are handed everything even though they don’t deserve it, or even want it.”

  For a moment, she looked sad. I wondered if she was one of those people who wanted to go to college.

  Monarch shook off her melancholy and replaced it with a wicked smile. “Now, Higgs, if you are truly repentant, you must atone for your sins.”

  “How?”

  I could see the silhouette of the water tower looming as Rolvo slowed. “You must rescue real animals in need,” she advised, sounding very priestly.

  I wasn’t Catholic, but I went to mass with Nick a lot when we were younger. I always asked God for the same thing … to make my parents happy.

  “I’m serious,” she said. “If you want to stay my friend, you have to rescue animals, real animals who are in jeopardy. You do want to stay my friend, don’t you, Higgs?”

  I nodded.

  Monarch let out a whoop that was louder than any cowboy’s. “This is going to be so great. I’ve always wanted to rescue animals!”

  As Monarch babbled, I turned on my phone. There were twelve text messages. Most were from my father.

  Harvard admin phone interview Sat @ 4

  My lawyer ready to prep you.

  Answer me!

  There was a text from Mom. Honey, are you okay? Love u.

  And one from Charlie. Mom’s a wreck. Dad’s a douche. U r in trouble.

  I turned my phone off.

  “Bing! Let’s go rescue animals!” Monarch said gleefully.

  What had I gotten myself into? When I considered my options — going home to Mom melting down and Dad angry — suddenly, rescuing animals seemed like fun.

  “Sure,” I told her. “But not today, tomorrow.”

  Monarch looked deflated. “You’re chickening out on me, aren’t you?”

  “No,” I swore. “Really, I want to do this.” And the odd thing was, I did. “But I need to go home. I want to check on my mom.”

  Monarch nodded. “Okay, but remember, you promised to do a rescue.”

  A rescue. If only I could rescue my parents’ marriage. My college fiasco. Monarch. Myself.

  Dad was gone. The house was quiet except for some excessively cheerful lady on the television extolling the virtues of a self-cleaning damp mop. I picked up the remote and hit “off.”

  Mom’s door was closed. I pressed my ear against it, but all I heard was silence. There was a thin slice of light coming out from under Charlie’s door. I knocked softly.

  “Go away,” she said. Her voice sounded muffled.

  Even though it was dark, I went out to my garden. I flipped the switch and the floodlights lit up the backyard — day for night. The tomatoes had ripened, threatening to snap the vines. The deep dark green zucchini looked good and so did the yellow squash. The Bing cherries were shiny, ripe, and red — perfect. How could they not be? I made sure to pick plenty, and a few peaches too. In my small plot of land, I had managed to grow a whole produce section.

  I worked for what seemed like hours. Cleaning out the weeds. Picking the ripe fruit and vegetables. Staking the tomatoes. Watering.

  I brought my bounty into the house and washed and polished each apple, each zucchini, everything, individually. Then I got out the paper bags, and when they were full, I left them at the doors of some of our neighbors. I didn’t need to leave a note, they’d know who it was from. When I was done, I had one bag left.

  I woke up to the smell of bacon frying. When I went into Charlie’s room, her bed was empty. The sheets were strewn around and Bunchy Bear was trapped between the mattress and the wall. I rescued him and set him on top of Charlie’s pillow. Even after all these years, he still smelled like Jeffrey, kind of like the woods and soap.

  Mom was at the stove flipping pancakes, something she hadn’t done in years. Usually we ate cereal. My sister was already seated. Dad’s chair was noticeably empty. When Jeffrey was alive, breakfast was a big deal at our house. Sometimes he’d cook bacon, eggs, the works, even though everyone was always in a hurry to leave. It was choreographed chaos with Jeffrey as the ringleader. Unlike the rest of us, my brother was a morning person. He’d have some music blasting on the radio, and would hand cups of coffee to Mom and Dad as they straggled into the kitchen. And even though everyone was grumpy, he’d tell jokes and tease us until we were all smiling.

  “Why didn’t you wake me up?” I asked as I poured myself a glass of milk.

  “You’re a big boy, you can wake yourself up,” Charlie said. “Besides, I’m not going to Harvard with you, so you’re going to have to practice getting up on your own.”

  My mother and I glanced at each other.

  “What?” Charlie said defensively. “I saw that. Is this about me?”

  “It’s about me,” I said.

  “It’s always about you,” she muttered as she drizzled loops of maple syrup over her pancakes.

  “Hey, Mom, how are you doing?” I asked.

  “Just fine, Higgs,” my mother said, smiling. She put a stack of perfect pancakes on my plate, then kissed me on the top of the head.

  The odd thing was, she looked like she was fine. Mom’s hair was pulled back and she was wearing her favorite dress, the plain one with the daisies on it. Unlike Dad with his Porsche and fancy suits, my mother had never been flashy. It was such a joy to see her without the Robe of Depression.

  “I’m getting vibes that there’s something someone’s not telling me,” my sister said through a mouthful of pancake. “What’s the big secret, Dinky?”

  “Charlie!” my mother scolded.

  “It’s okay, Mom,” I said. I took a swig of milk. “Remember that movie Nick and I made about rescuing his dog?”

  Charlie faked a yawn. “Yeah, they forced
us to watch it at assembly.”

  “Well, Harvard is questioning the authenticity of the Society for Animal Protection.”

  My sister’s eyes widened. “Higgs … are they going to kick you out?”

  “That remains to be seen,” I said. “I … I … I have to talk to someone from Admissions Review.”

  “You’ll do fine,” my mother assured me. “Just be yourself, Higgs, and you’ll have nothing to worry about.”

  But that was the problem. I hadn’t been myself for years.

  The doorbell rang and we all looked up. Maybe it was my father, and he had forgotten his key. Maybe he was coming home to beg Mom for forgiveness. But it was neither. It was just Mrs. Pincus, stopping by to thank me for the vegetables.

  As I was about to shut the door, a black Porsche with Harvard plates pulled into the driveway. Before my father could even get out of the car, I was in his face.

  “Why? Can you tell me why?”

  He shook his head slowly. There were bags under his eyes, and he hadn’t shaved. His shoulders slumped. He looked like shit. “I don’t know” was all he said. “I just came back to get some of my things. Help me, won’t you, Higgs?”

  There was a chill in the air when my father greeted my mom and Charlie. As they both stiffened, I could see Dad deflate. The painless dentist was in pain.

  My father had brought boxes and began to haphazardly throw his clothes into them. He didn’t even bother to close the dresser drawers when he was done. My parents’ room looked like a tornado had blown through it. He left the mess for my mother to clean up.

  “Bring these to the car, won’t you, Higgs?” he said. “I’ve got to get stuff from the den.”

  “Maybe you could just say you were wrong and beg for forgiveness,” I suggested.

  He gave me a sad smile and said, “I think it may be too late for that.”

  As I took the first box, I noticed something pink on the floor. I grabbed the Robe of Depression and tossed it into Rolvo on my way to my father’s car. My mother would never think of looking there for it.

  As usual, Dad’s Porsche was spotless. Maybe if he paid more attention to his wife than his car, they wouldn’t be splitting up. I set the box on the front seat. A couple of shirts fell on the floor, and when I picked them up, I noticed something tucked under the passenger seat. It was a small black velvet box. There was a lump in my throat. Inside was a necklace with an “M” set in diamonds. My mother never wore stuff like that. She had always made it very clear that she thought expensive jewelry was a waste of money. Plus, her name was Elizabeth.