Though they weren’t close, Benny had a brother, and if I were down to one kidney and Benny needed one, I thought he would likely step up. But this was Letty. Everything of mine was for her, as was everything of Benny’s. The fact that Cora had gone through everything she had in order to provide me with the very thing that might keep her from getting a transplant made me feel drenched in panicked selfishness.
We’d know soon enough. I consoled myself with that. There was so much I had to do in the meantime. I had no idea how long a genetic test could take, and I would use that time to research everything I could about PKD, not only for Letty, but for Cora, too.
I could feel the panic start to lift. Like my IVF years, once I had a plan, I could handle it. Of course,
handle it
meant different things to different people, and I was aware that at times during the in vitro there were people who didn’t think I was handling it so well.
At the hospital we waited. And waited some more. And finally I met Cora’s nephrologist, who had stopped in to check on her and talk to the vascular surgeon. Once he got there, things moved pretty quickly. As they prepared to take Cora away, she told Keith good-bye, asking him to keep an eye out for her next week, that if there was one thing she knew she wanted to do after this was over, it was to fly.
I gave him my cell phone number and took his and promised to call as things progressed. When they wheeled her away, I laid a hand on Dr. MacKinnon’s arm.
“Could I speak to you for a moment?”
He checked his watch and then said, “Sure,” folding his arms around a clipboard and looking very doctorly.
“From what I understand, Cora is going to wind up needing a kidney transplant,” I said, hoping he would simply continue my thought process on his own. He just tilted his head to the side and waited me out. I’d never been good at that game.
“And I told her, immediately, that I would do it. But there might be an issue with my daughter. You see, she was conceived with Cora’s egg. She is, technically, Cora’s biological child.”
He shook his head. “Well, you just can’t do it even if you are a match, then, can you?”
The speed with which he comprehended the situation astonished me. And the definite tone of his reply took me aback.
“I—well, I don’t know. We don’t even know if Letty, my daughter, inherited this.”
He motioned me over to a couple of chairs in the corner. They sat at a ninety-degree angle to each other, and our knees touched when we sat. He leaned toward me and spoke quietly.
“I can’t talk to you about Cora’s case specifically. However, if your daughter has a biological parent who has PKD, then you have to work under the assumption that she does have the gene. I have two children, and as far as I’m concerned, any of my donateable organs are stamped with their names.”
I nodded. “Absolutely, yes, that’s just how I feel. And Cora feels that way, too.”
“But Cora has a better chance at being a match with your daughter than you do. And even that’s not guaranteed. Everyone seems to think organs can just be tossed around between people like footballs, but matches can sometimes be difficult to come by, even in families.”
“I already know we’re a good blood-type match. We had to be for her to donate eggs.”
“They look at more than blood type. Your antigens need to be as good a match as possible. And they’ll cross-match, to see if she might reject a kidney due to protein or cellular differences.”
“Well, we still want to test Letty—”
He held his hand up. “Tested as a match for Cora?”
“No, to see if she has the gene.”
“Have you spoken to anyone about genetic testing yet?”
“No, not yet. I just found out about all this—”
“Okay, then before you get any further in this process you have some things to think about.”
He pulled out his BlackBerry and expertly thumbed some information up on it. He placed it on his clipboard and pulled a business card out, turning it over to copy the information on the BlackBerry onto it.
“This is a genetic counselor,” he said, putting the BlackBerry away and handing me the card. “I strongly suggest you contact her as soon as possible. Let her know that I’ve referred you.”
I took the card and finally made my point. “Listen, we already know what to do,” I said. “Once we get the results back, if they’re negative, then I’ll definitely be a donor for Cora. I want to get as much information as I can, so that when we get the results, I can just be ready to move ahead quickly.”
He stared down at his clipboard for a moment, then looked up at me, emotion I couldn’t read on his face. Pity, impatience, something I didn’t expect.
“It doesn’t work like that,” he said. “You
must
speak to a counselor first. I’m not qualified to give you any advice here, but you need to make sure that you even want the tests done to begin with.”
“Why wouldn’t we want the tests done?” I asked in surprise.
“Well, for one thing, it changes nothing for your daughter. There is no cure for PKD, and no medication to slow its onset,
if
she even has it.”
“But Cora—”
“
And
,” he interrupted, “there are other ramifications of genetic testing. Like what the knowledge of a disease waiting in the wings for you does to your psyche. The only thing we could do for your daughter right now,
if
she even has the gene and until she shows signs, would be to give you dietary guidelines. And regular ultrasounds. That’s it.”
He reached over and tapped my knee. “Call the counselor before you do anything,” he said, and stood. “I’ll be around to check on Cora later,” he said, leaving me there with the business card burning in my hand.
Just as I started putting everything he had said into some sort of context, Benny arrived.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, pulling me up into his arms. It felt good to be back in that space with him. “Okay,” he said as we sat down. “So what’s going on? Is she in there already?”
I nodded and looked at my watch. “I imagine they’re putting her under right about now.”
He looked at his watch, too, and I knew he was setting himself up to be organized throughout the rest of the day.
“Any indication of how long it’s going to take?” he asked.
“No. It’s really not a dangerous operation. The risk of it is in the anesthesia. I’m sure she’ll be just fine with this part; it’s the disease as a whole that’s concerning.”
“What’s the bottom line on this? Is it fatal or something?”
“There’s no cure. She said people can live for years and years on dialysis, but don’t people die all the time waiting for a kidney?”
He shrugged. “No idea, really. It’s not something that’s ever been on my radar before except to sign my organ donor card, you know? What about the guy, the boyfriend?”
“They broke up, remember?”
“Well, so what is it you’re thinking, Ali?” he asked, his voice low and serious, pained already.
I took a deep breath. Here we go.
“Of course I immediately told her that I wanted to give her one of mine—”
“Ali! How could you not have talked to me about this?”
“Just hold on before you say anything else, Benny. You need to hear the rest,” I said.
I turned the chair toward him, our knees mingling, my hands on his legs.
“I don’t think I can give her a kidney.”
“Is she too far along?” he asked, his sympathy kicking in quickly on the heels of relief.
“No. The kind of disease she has, polycystic kidney disease, it’s hereditary.”
He didn’t get it for a moment. He just looked at me, and as realization dawned across his face I felt my heart break over it all over again.
“Letty,” he whispered.
I nodded. “Now let me tell you the rest before you get too upset, okay? Obviously we’re going to be doing a lot of research, and we’ll learn about all the details, but here’s what I know so far.” I couldn’t get the words out fast enough. Benny’s eyes were huge, and he was holding himself together, but I needed to give him something to grab on to quickly.
“There’s a chance she doesn’t have it at all, and even if she does carry the gene, it doesn’t mean she’ll ever develop it.”
He ran his hand across his face. “So what are you saying here? What are the chances?”
“It’s fifty-fifty.”
“So what are we going to do?”
“The way this thing works is that it doesn’t usually show up until the thirties. And until there are some symptoms . . . You know what, honey? I don’t know. I just don’t know enough about it, and I’m going to tell you something that’s wrong and—”
“Hey,” he said, reaching over and grabbing my arms just above the elbow. “Okay, it’s all right. Just slow down. Come on.”
I took a deep breath. “Oh, Benny, I just can’t believe this is happening.”
“Well, maybe it’s not. There are tests, right? We’ll get the tests, we’ll find out for sure, and maybe . . . what?” he asked, trailing off as I shook my head.
“There is a genetic test, you know, testing her DNA. But there are problems, things to think about, with testing her. We have to figure out what to tell her, and I guess we’d all have to get tested to see if we’re even matches, any of us, for Cora and for Letty, before we do anything.”
“So we’ll do it. Who gives a crap about the problems? We’ll just deal with them. If it’s expensive, we have good insurance, and we can take care of the rest. Isn’t it better to know?”
I held the counselor’s card out to him. “We have to go see her before we make any decisions about this.”
He took the card and pulled his cell phone out.
“You’re calling now?” I asked.
“I don’t feel like agonizing over this any longer than I have to, do you?”
“I—I guess not.”
He stared at me for a minute.
“Are you telling me everything?”
I hated this part of him being a cop. When he turned that calm suspicion on me, I always got defensive. Benny, as far as I could tell, had never taken on either the “good cop” or the “bad cop” persona. He fluctuated between the two, being exactly what a person needed at any given moment, lulling you into feeling understood, practically handing him the information he’d use to hang you with.
“No, but I will, and none of it is as important as getting this appointment, so go ahead and do that,” I said. He alternated watching me and punching the numbers into his phone. I leaned against the corner and stared at the faded pastel print on the wall while he made the appointment, trying to figure out what to tell him and what I should keep to myself.
“Okay,” he said, hanging up. “We’re going in next Thursday. And you think—what? That we shouldn’t tell Letty anything?”
“We’re going to have to tell her about Cora, of course,” I said. “Though I don’t see any reason to fill her in on how serious it is yet. It would just scare her, and she’s really going to go through enough. What do you think?”
He nodded. “Hell, I’m sorry
I
even know. I’m scared. You know, I thought Cora looked bad. Is this why?”
“Yeah. She told me she’d been sick, but I never thought it was something like this.”
“Letty,” he said, nothing else, and I knew we were both picturing Letty looking the way Cora did.
“Speaking of Letty,” I said. “She skipped school yesterday.”
He sighed heavily and tipped his head back against the wall. “I thought you were making sure she got there in the mornings.”
“I did, Benny. She left with her boyfriend—”
“Oh, great. This is the guy from the notes?” he asked, snapping his head back up.
“Seth, yes. The guy from the notes.”
“That’s it. I don’t care what you say about her growing up. I’m putting a stop to this today. Under no circumstances is she to see this kid again.”
“I’m not sure she should either, Benny, but there’s a problem with him, and, to be honest, I’m concerned.”
“You’re concerned about
him
?”
“They went to Venice yesterday. Apparently he went to do something with his cousin, the cousin got arrested, and Seth is in custody. He’s a minor and they have to release him to his parents, but he says his mother hasn’t been seen in years and his father won’t go get him, if they’ve even been able to find him.”
“Venice? What the hell is she doing taking off to Venice?”
I sat back down in the chair. “I think she was trying to get our attention, punish us, I don’t know.”
“Get our attention? Having to pick her up at three in the morning didn’t get our attention? What the hell is going through her mind? Punish us? For what? Spoiling her? Keeping a roof over her head, food on the table?”
“She is no more spoiled than any of her friends, Benny, and a lot less spoiled than a lot of kids in this town. Things are different now. Her parents don’t pick tomatoes for a living. We have the means to give her the same things all these other kids have. What do you want to do? Dress her in rags?”
“She doesn’t have to dress in rags, but she doesn’t have to—”
“Benny, Benny, hang on. Let’s think about what’s really important here, okay?”
To my surprise, he stopped talking and looked at me in desperation.
“One of our dearest friends, the woman who gave us our child, is gravely ill. It’s possible our daughter will eventually be, too. And there’s a young man she cares about who’s in trouble, and who we might be able to help. We’re doing what we can for Cora. We’re here, and we’re willing to learn about what we can do for her. Same for Letty. There’s not much else we can do right now, Benny. So, I know you, and you need something to do. You said you wanted to help kids like Todd Jasper? Well, here’s your chance. This kid clearly needs help, Benny. See what you can find out about this boy.”
I could practically see the wheels turning, the plan falling into place, his determination to not forget Todd, the one boy he hadn’t been there to help, the chance to possibly make up for that.