41
AMANDA
The doctor was at the window, whistling. Amanda couldn’t tell what he was looking at. He’d only pulled the curtain back an inch or so, but he seemed intently fixed on it.
“Why did you remove my kidney?” Amanda asked for the second time as anxiety grew within her. First, it was only this tiny pinprick in her gut, but now, it was spreading across her skin, through her limbs, to the tips of her fingers and toes.
With a soft sigh, the whistling stopped, and the doctor let the curtain fall back into place. He went to the foot of her bed, retrieved a clipboard, and scribbled some kind of note. Finally, he looked back at her. “You don’t recall?”
Amanda shook her head.
He pursed his lips and nodded solemnly. “That’s probably the anesthesia. It can sometimes induce short-term memory loss. I imagine you don’t recall the two of us speaking in the moments before you went to the operating room or following the surgery? We spoke at length both times.”
Amanda didn’t remember any of that, and when she shook her head again, she felt a dull ache in her right temple. That particular pain hadn’t been there moments earlier. Whatever it was, it was growing sharper. Like it too had been asleep and was waking with her. “I don’t recognize you at all.”
The doctor tilted his head, this sympathetic look washing over his face. “You and I have known each other for the better part of two weeks. We’ve had many conversations aside from those here in the hospital. Like I said, it will all come back to you. You just need to be patient.”
“Why did you remove my kidney?”
This time, his gaze did not falter. “Because you asked me to.”
That hit Amanda like a punch in the gut. “I asked you to?”
“You needed money, Amanda. You came to me through the recommendation of a mutual friend. I’m employed by an organ broker.
He offered you five thousand dollars for one of your kidneys, and you accepted.
” He nodded across the room at a black bag resting in the far corner.
“Your payment is in that bag. Cash. As agreed.”
Amanda didn’t remember any of this.
She pushed, pulled, tugged at her brain, and none of it came out.
This couldn’t be happening. It was all a bad dream.
She’d wake any second. She’d wake and shake it off.
Maybe it had all been a dream—maybe when she finally did wake, she’d find herself back in Midbo, in her own bed.
Maybe she’d wake to find Brian Delroy in her living room, dressed in a suit, waiting to take her to the homecoming dance.
Her parents at the foot of the stairs with a camera, both beaming—their little girl, all grown up and looking so beautiful.
“Amanda?” the doctor said. “Are you okay? You look a little flushed.” He took her hand and pressed his finger to her wrist. “Your heart is racing.”
Amanda could not only feel her heart pounding—she could hear it. The monitor behind her head was beeping frantically, and that seemed odd. Why was he taking her pulse by touch when the machine she was wired to reflected the results in real time?
The doctor gently lowered her wrist and patted the back of her hand. “You’re young and strong. You’ll be just fine. No reason to get fired up.”
“Is this even legal?”
The smile returned to his face. “Of course, dear. You’ve donated your kidney to a willing recipient in exchange for a nominal fee. All perfectly above board. Would any of us be here if it wasn’t?”
Amanda didn’t like it when he called her “dear.” Something about it made her feel dirty.
Icky. That made her think about how he’d lifted the sheet and her gown to show her the scar, how he put her private parts on display for the world to see without a second thought.
He still hadn’t covered her back up, not completely.
Being strapped down, it was difficult to see, but she could feel the cool air on her exposed skin.
She wanted to be covered up. She wanted to crawl deep under those blankets and hide someplace where the light couldn’t find her, but she couldn’t move.
None of this seemed legal, and if it was, would they really pay in cash? Cash in a bag left in the corner of the room?
The doctor sat on the edge of the bed, and rather than cover her back up, he tossed the sheets aside and raised her gown enough to expose her breasts.
He studied her for a moment, then said, “The scar from the kidney will be easy enough to conceal. When you’re wearing underwear, it really won’t be noticeable at all.
And of course, it will fade with time, as most scars do.
This one, though . . .” He pressed his index finger to the space between her breasts and gently traced a line down about four inches, then he curved off to her left side following the muscles of her toned abdomen.
“This scar will be far more noticeable, I’m afraid.
Unfortunately, there is no other way to reach your liver. ”
Amanda wasn’t sure she heard him right. “What’s wrong with my liver?”
At this, he looked confused. “Nothing’s wrong. If there were, you wouldn’t be such an ideal harvest candidate. As it stands, you and your organs are all in pristine condition.”
“You can’t take my liver.”
He took her hand in his again. “Well, not all of it. That would be fatal. The contract only requires a donation of fifty percent. You really don’t remember this, do you?”
Amanda shook her head.
“Well, there’s nothing to be afraid of. The half you’ve agreed to give up will go to a worthy donor, and your remaining liver will eventually grow to replace what is removed at no detriment to your remaining quality of life.
Typical regeneration only takes about three to four months.
You should take solace in the lives you’re saving with these gifts.
You, Amanda, are a very special person.” He stood and rounded the bed.
“Try to get some rest. We’re scheduled to be back in the ER in less than two hours. ”