The Kidney Hypothetical

by Lisa Yee

  I offered Stuart some more cheese, but he declined, instead preferring to run up and down my arm a bit. After a while, he slowed down, nestled into the palm of my hand, and went to sleep. He looked so peaceful.

  “Let me hold him,” she said, cradling him in her hands.

  Just then the revving of an engine startled Stuart awake. I looked up to see a pickup truck with flames painted on it rolling to a stop, boxing Rolvo into the parking space.

  “Look at that,” I said to Monarch. “Seriously?”

  “What’s the matter, can’t you read?” the passenger yelled.

  A “Reserved for Mixxed Martial Arts AAcademy” sign was in front of Rolvo. Had it always been there?

  “There are plenty of other spaces,” I yelled back.

  “Move your damn truck,” Monarch yelled. “We were here first!”

  “Well, well,” a man said as he got out of the passenger side. He was wearing a too-tight WWE tank top that showed off his muscles. Steroids? He had a tattoo of a bodybuilder on his bicep, which seemed redundant. “Watch your mouth, darling,” he said to Monarch.

  “Fuck off,” she said. Monarch took a deep draw on her cigarette, then tossed it in his direction.

  “Don’t piss him off,” I whispered under my breath.

  The bodybuilder looked Monarch up and down, then winked. “Do you belong to that kid?” he asked, motioning to me. “ ’Cause darling, you don’t need a boy, you need a man.”

  Monarch scoffed. “Well, if you ever meet a man, be sure to let me know,” she said.

  Out of nowhere, a double-edged knife was in his hand. “You’re pretty sassy,” he said, holding the blade under her chin. She didn’t move, but her eyes flickered before going blank.

  I was frozen.

  “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” he said, looking at Monarch like he wanted to eat her up. He licked his lips.

  She pushed his knife away. “Don’t point that or anything else you’ve got at me. It’s rude.”

  “Yeah, leave her alone,” I said, unsuccessfully trying to sound tough.

  “I don’t like to be bossed around,” the bodybuilder said.

  He ran the knife alongside Rolvo. The scraping sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

  “Hey!” I was surprised to find the cherry slush bomb in my hand. Before I knew what was happening, I tossed it at the truck. Slowly, it ran down the windshield.

  “Uh-oh,” the bodybuilder said, feigning fear. “My brother’s not going to like that. He just washed the truck today.”

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble,” I said, wincing when my voice cracked.

  The truck’s windshield wipers turned on and pushed my cherry slush bomb back and forth. Back and forth. Then the driver’s side window of the truck rolled down. I could see a man drinking a beer. He raised it to me. “Just let me finish this,” he said. “Then I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

  He opened the truck door, crushed the beer can, and got out. For a moment, I was confused.

  “Twins,” Monarch said admiringly. “Twin assholes.”

  Twin #2 had crazy eyes. My throat went dry. Monarch jumped into Rolvo, but before I could do the same, the two men strode toward me, blocking my way.

  “Lock the doors,” I yelled to Monarch before sprinting away from the iffy Mart and into the night.

  They were fast, but I was faster. I could hear shouting behind me, but I kept going, refusing to turn around. I had to make a split-second decision — run into the Brookhaven woods or into the industrial section of town. I chose the latter, where there was a better chance of running into someone who could help me.

  I was operating on pure adrenaline as I wove through the deserted alleyways, and past dilapidated buildings. Angry dogs with sharp teeth lunged from behind chain-link fences. It felt like a ghost town devoid of humans. I ran and ran and ran. After a while, it felt like I’d been running in circles. Finally, I slowed down. I was out of breath. I wished I had that cherry slush bomb now. My lungs were about to burst. It was only after I turned the corner and looked behind me that I realized I’d lost them. I’d never felt so good to lose something in my life.

  I crouched over with my hands on my knees to catch my breath. Sweat dripped from my forehead onto the pavement. That’s when I saw a pair of boots come into view.

  Shit.

  I looked up to see Twin #1 with a smug look plastered across his broad face. He was holding my empty slush cup.

  “Say, smart mouth,” he said. “I think it’s time that you and me ought to have a little talk about your future — or lack of one.”

  I’d never been in a real fight before. However, something told me that was about to change.

  “Strip,” he ordered.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Strip,” he said again.

  “You’re nuts,” I told him.

  “No, your nuts!” he joked before kicking me in the balls.

  It was the most horrendous pain I had ever felt — like getting the wind knocked out of me, only a hundred times worse. I doubled over in agony as I staggered like a drunk.

  He motioned to his brother and said, “By the way, he’s won a lot of mixed martial arts bouts. Show him your tattoos.”

  Twin #2 obliged by taking off his T-shirt. Practically his entire body was covered in ink. Under the ink were muscles that were so big they looked like they should have their own nicknames.

  “Strip,” he said again.

  I took off everything but my shoes and my boxers.

  “That’s a good boy,” Twin #1 told me.

  I was praying they would leave me alone. They had humiliated me enough.

  I was wrong.

  The first punch hurt the hardest. That was, until the second punch.

  At least they were fair. They only pummeled me one at a time, and honestly, getting hit by Twin #1 was like a vacation compared to getting beat up by Twin #2.

  I could feel sweat running down my face. Or was it blood? I couldn’t tell.

  This is how I am going to die, I thought.

  I fought back, giving no thought to strategy, just swinging blindly. I wasn’t landing many of my punches, and when I did, it probably hurt my fist more than it hurt my target.

  This is how I am going to die, I thought.

  I had never felt so much physical pain in my life.

  This is how I am going to die, I thought.

  Then something weird happened. With every blow they landed, I took it. I stopped fighting back and instead thought about the list of people who hated me, and all the shit-assed things I had done in my life. Maybe this was my punishment. Maybe I was getting what I deserved.

  This is how I am going to die, I thought.

  It’s hard to gauge time when you are being thrashed — A minute? An hour? A week? A lifetime? But after a while, it seemed like my assailants were losing their oomph. Or had I just become accustomed to the hits and kicks? Whatever was happening, I felt totally numb.

  This is how I am going to die, I thought, and I didn’t care. Then I remembered my mother. Jeffrey’s death nearly killed her. I didn’t think she could take losing two sons.

  Out of nowhere, a slow rage began to build until I couldn’t contain it anymore. Like the Incredible Hulk, I stood up and roared. It was so loud that it scared them, and me. I must have looked like a maniac.

  “Come on, hit me again,” I said, spitting something out. “Do it and you’ll die!”

  I saw a flash of uncertainty in their eyes. I was used to seeing that during debate tournaments when I was about to obliterate my opponents, but this was different. In debate, I used my words. I used reasoning and logic. None of that mattered here.

  “Let’s leave,” Twin #1 said to #2. “This is getting boring.”

  “Hit me!” I ordered. “Hit me! Hit me! Come on, hit me!”

  Both laughed nervously.

  The power of crazy.

  I roared again and again as I watched them run away. Or, wait. They were
still there? I swear, I could see Twin #1, and Twin #2, and Twin #3, and Twin #4. I saw a whole army of twins before I collapsed with my face planted against the asphalt.

  It hurt to open my eyes, but when I did, I saw a penny. It looked out of place. My hand trembled. Every part of my body hurt. I inched my fingers toward the lucky penny, but before I could pick it up, my world went dark.

  Higgs? Higgs! HIGGS!!!”

  Huh? What? Someone was calling my name. But who?

  “Have you seen my penny?” I asked.

  I looked up at an angel.

  She was beautiful. I must be in heaven, I thought.

  “Oh my god, Higgs. You scared the hell out of me. I thought you were dead.”

  “Monarch?”

  My left eye refused to open.

  “Of course it’s me,” Monarch said tenderly. “You look like shit.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Wait here,” she said.

  “Don’t leave me,” I begged.

  Monarch was gone for so long I thought I had dreamed her. I shut my eyes again. Every part of me hurt.

  When I heard a car engine, I panicked. They were back.

  It wasn’t them.

  Monarch held my head gently in her lap as she poured some water into my mouth. It took me a moment to realize that the metallic taste was blood. My blood.

  “Where’s Stuart?” I asked. “Stuart!!!!” I shouted.

  “Calm down,” Monarch said, shaking her head. “He’s in the shoe box. He’s safe. Higgs, where are your clothes?”

  It was hard for me to talk. “Don’t know.”

  Monarch ripped off the hem of her dress.

  “Whoa,” I said. “I’m not sure if now’s the time for us to be doing this — but if you insist …”

  She didn’t try to stop me when I put my hand on her leg.

  “I see they didn’t touch your brain,” Monarch said as she dampened the cloth and gently dabbed my face. “You’re still an idiot.”

  “Ouch!”

  “You’re going to have a really impressive shiner and your lip is split.” Monarch leaned in and used the cloth to soak up some of the blood. “Looks like your front tooth is chipped.”

  She smelled like sunshine.

  Monarch was inches away from me when I took her face in my hands. Her skin was soft. She started to say something, but before she could get the first word out, I kissed her hard on the mouth. It killed my lips, but I didn’t care. I could feel my heart racing, and even though moments before I thought I was going to die, suddenly it felt like everything was right in the world.

  “Not awful,” Monarch announced when we finally came up for air.

  Her kisses tasted like cigarettes and chocolate and coffee. I wanted seconds, but she pushed me away.

  “Listen, Higgs Boson Bing,” she said affectionately. “That didn’t mean anything, okay? So don’t go getting all mushy on me or anything, got it?”

  I didn’t blink. My sight was slowly coming back. Monarch looked all gauzy. Without taking her eyes off me, she took an endless drag on her cigarette and released the most amazing series of smoke rings.

  I was in love.

  “Oh god, not again. Stop staring at me like that,” Monarch said, swatting me away. “It’s creepy.”

  I couldn’t stop grinning. I was in pain from the beating, yet felt oddly energized.

  “May I kiss you again?” I asked, leaning into her. I felt dizzy.

  “No you may not,” Monarch said. “I told you, that didn’t mean anything.”

  She was wrong about that.

  Monarch looked me over then asked, “Do you think you can walk?”

  I nodded as she helped me up. Even though I could make it without her, I held on tight as I hobbled toward Rolvo.

  The stars were out.

  “How did you find me?” I asked.

  “Is that your bonus question?”

  I shook my head.

  “Here,” she said, holding out the Robe of Depression. “You don’t want to bleed all over the upholstery.”

  It was only then that I realized that all I had on were shoes and boxers. The twins had stolen my clothes. I slipped the robe on. There was something hard in one of the pockets. I was surprised to find a miniature Rubik’s Cube. It must have been one of Jeffrey’s.

  As Monarch drove, I listened to the hum of the engine. My body was sore, but in a weird way, it felt good. It reminded me that I was alive. I offered Stuart a piece of cheese. Monarch was gripping the steering wheel with both hands. Her eyes were on the road and she looked solemn.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “The game is over,” she said, staring straight ahead. “I’m taking you to the emergency room.”

  I started to shake my head, but it hurt too much. “No,” I said. “I’m fine.”

  “You are not. You’re hurt,” Monarch said.

  “Really, I’m okay,” I insisted. I didn’t want that night to end — certainly not in the hospital, where they’d probably call my parents. “I’ve never felt better,” I insisted. “I swear.”

  This made her smile, and suddenly, it was true.

  “Let’s go take a look at you, and if nothing’s broken, we can skip the ER,” she said. “I hate hospitals.”

  The roads cleared and trees popped up. Monarch pulled into a rest stop and I made my way into the bathroom. The glare killed my eyes. I blinked back the bare lightbulb, and when I did, I screamed. I turned from side to side and examined myself in the dirty mirror. My face was battered and swollen. A black eye was starting to form and there was blood caked near my mouth.

  It took a couple of turns of the sink handles to get the water running, but when it started, it came in cold and clean. It stung when I splashed water on my face. Red swirled in the sink before running down the drain. I was determined to wash away all traces of the twins. When I was done, my face still looked like a punching bag. Part of my front tooth was missing. My balls ached. The welts on my chest would soon turn as dark as the tattoos on Twin #2’s body.

  I slipped Mom’s pink bathrobe back on to hide the bruises.

  As I ran my tongue up against the edge of my cracked tooth, it felt sharp and dangerous. The twins may not have killed me, but my father surely would.

  “A dentist has to have perfect teeth. We are our own best advertising.”

  Ever since I announced that I wanted to be a dentist, my dad started giving me pointers and tips. He’d regale me with stories about work. What he was saying was not important. I just liked that he was talking to me the way he used to talk to Jeffrey. So what if the sight of blood made me want to faint, or that looking for tooth decay and rot was repulsive. I could get over it.

  I got back in the car and took Stuart out of his box. He squirmed in my hands and it felt as if our racing hearts were synchronized.

  As Monarch maneuvered Rolvo through the hills in the newer part of Monte Vista, I glanced at the mini mansions. These people had serious money. Rolvo idled across the street from an imposing two-story house. It was all glass and steel. There was a “Welcome Home” banner draped over the front door. Monarch just stared at it. I thought about the battered trailer that she lived in, so far removed from a house like this.

  “Why are we here?” I asked.

  A small, sad smile crossed her lips. “I could ask myself that,” she said cryptically. She hit the gas. “Let’s get out of here,” she said.

  I turned on the radio. The Wanton Weasels were wailing out “Kill Me Now and Forever.” Monarch changed the channel to classical. Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major. It was my mother’s favorite. I wondered what she was doing right then, and how she was going to handle Dad leaving her. Everyone was leaving her.

  “This is Pachelbel,” I told Monarch.

  “I know,” she said.

  At first I was surprised. She didn’t seem like a classical music sort of person. But by then, I had begun to suspect that Monarch was full of surprises, and I was right.
/>   I gave Monarch directions to a tidy faux Tudor house with a familiar battered white VW Beetle parked in front of it. There was a “Tuba or Not Tuba” sticker on the bumper and a crooked USC decal on the rear window.

  My phone, and my wallet, had been in my pants pocket, so I couldn’t call Nick. I didn’t want to risk ringing the doorbell and waking Mrs. Milgram, so instead I threw rocks at his bedroom window. It seemed like forever, but finally Nick pulled back the curtains.

  “Holy father of God!” he cried when he came outside and saw me. “What happened? It looks like you hit a herd of buffalo.”

  “There was an incident with a cherry slush bomb,” I told him. Nick looked confused. “I pissed some guys off. I got beat up,” I explained. My eye hurt every time I blinked and my entire body was so sore that I couldn’t isolate the pain.

  “Why are you wearing that?” Nick asked, gesturing to the bathrobe. “And why are you holding a mouse?”

  “It’s a long story.” I said. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

  “Sure, whatever,” he said.

  “And I need some money too.”

  Nick nodded. He was like that, always there when you needed him. Accepting to a fault.

  “Hey Nick,” I began. Something had been bothering me. “All those years of me taking the credit for your work, if it bothered you so much, why didn’t you say anything?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. It was so gradual, and you were so good at letting people think it was all you, and I … I was, I guess I was content to be in your shadow.”

  “Shit, Nick. You should have said something. I mean, you told Samantha, so I know it must have really bothered you.”

  He shrugged. “I did tell you a couple of times, but I guess you didn’t hear me.”

  “When did you ever tell me?”

  “Plenty of times,” Nick insisted.

  “Give me an example.”

  “After state finals, I said, ‘I’m so glad I worked so hard on those briefs, I think they clenched us the title.’ And you said, ‘Yeah, we won again!’ ”

  “And …?”