15. Rocco
ROCCO
I t breaks my heart to see her this way. I meant every word I said, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love to see her strong and healthy, and even carrying my baby one day. I want her to be my wife, even if none of those things happen, but I want her to have all those things, too.
When I step out of the room, I spot one of her nurses walking down the corridor, and I hurry to catch up.
“Excuse me, Nurse.”
She turns to me with a smile. “It’s Linda. What can I do for you?”
“How would I go about getting tested to see if I’d be a match for Sophia? For her kidney, I mean.”
The nurse, Linda, frowns. “Is this something you’ve really thought about? You must consider the implications. If you’re left with only one kidney and something happens to it, you’ll end up in the same position as Sophia.”
“I know that. If it means I get to sit beside her every three days, then I’m fine with that, too.”
“And you know your chances of being a match are slim, and that donor kidneys don’t always take. There’s a chance you’ll donate your kidney, only for it to fail, and then you’ll have put yourself through all of that for nothing.”
I nod. “I know. I’ve done my research, I’m aware of what I’m letting myself in for, but honestly, it’s nothing compared with what Sophia has been battling for the last ten years.”
She smiles and pats me on the arm. “She’s very lucky to have you.”
“Can I ask something else?”
“Of course.”
“Can you keep this between us? I don’t want to give her any false hope, in case it doesn’t happen.”
“I think she’d like to know what you’re prepared to put yourself through for her,” she says.
“Maybe, but she’ll find all that out if I’m a match anyway, won’t she?”
She nods and smiles again. “Yes, that’s true. The test doesn’t take long to do, and the results come back quickly.”
“Thanks, Linda.”
“You’re more than welcome.”
I’m nervous but determined. This is what I want more than anything.
T wo days later, Sophia’s discharged from hospital.
Of course, it’s not the last she’ll see of the place—far from it.
I hate that she has to go back to her parents’ house, while I’m still in my flat share.
I told her that I’ll get her a ring, but she said it won’t be much use anyway, as she isn’t allowed to wear them due to the fluid build up and the swelling.
I hate that we want to get married but we can’t even live together yet or even wear an engagement ring.
But I can’t ask Sophia to come and live in the crappy three-bedroom place with the other guys—especially not when she’s sick—and I still need to be able to get into work every day, so I can’t stay at her parents. Not that I’d ask to do that anyway.
I haven’t told anyone about taking the test to see if I could be a donor.
If it comes back that we’re a match, I want to be able to surprise Sophia with it.
I know she’ll probably give me an argument and tell me that I don’t need to do it, but it doesn’t matter what she says.
If I can give her this gift, then I’ll do it happily.
She’s still a little fragile after the pneumonia, but I do my best to remember what she said about the reasons she’d not told me why she’s so sick in the first place.
She hadn’t wanted me to treat her any differently to any other woman, and I do my best to make things as normal as possible.
We cuddle up on the couch or in bed during the evenings, watching Netflix, and ordering the occasional takeaway, though Sophia needs to be extra careful about what she eats because of all the salt.
It’s hard, though, not to always have her illness at the front of my mind, and I understood why she’d kept its severity from me for so long.
There’s fear in my heart now that I might lose her one day—and not lose her because she’s decided to leave me or move away this time, but lose her for good.
Then I get the call.