Chapter 5
Merciless noises punctured his dreams, forcing him awake. Kyle blinked, his fuzzy brain slowly recognizing his hospital room, as he tried to shift to a more comfortable position.
Dimness met him, the same drowsy heaviness that had cloaked his memories. He closed his eyes again, yet the vivid pictures remained. He and Gen. Their last days together. Prom. Graduation. Their first—their last—night together.
Regret panged. How could he have been so selfish to let her walk away?
Gen, the smart and beautiful, his girl at Lincoln High, the one person who had been his constant cheerleader through the ups and downs of school and sports, who had supported him even despite his parents’ dramas.
He’d done a great job of pushing his hurt to the side these past years, allowing his life to get filled with distractions and busyness and a million things demanding attention.
But still, a hole remained where Gen should be.
His friend. The girl he’d once considered his very best friend.
Until he’d woken up one morning and saw her as something else, and hormones had flamed their relationship into something hot and heavy which only made the sudden final cut seem all the more savage.
He exhaled, the sound like a moan. He hoped no passing nurse heard that, as they’d be in here asking what was wrong. And saying he was filled with regrets at how he’d abandoned his high school girlfriend sounded kinda juvenile. Even if it was true.
He regretted things. He needed to say sorry. And while he’d thought their parting was mutual, he had obviously not treated her as he should’ve.
The questions seemed endless, a million rabbit trails he could resolve by talking with her. But how could he do that when she seemed determined to avoid him?
“God,” he prayed aloud in the dark room, “You’re gonna have to make a way. Even if she doesn’t want to be reconciled I need her to forgive me. But,” he swallowed, “it’d be even better if You could somehow do a miracle. Because I miss her.”
He closed his eyes, his heart edged with a smidge of peace, and soon fell asleep.
Morning light rippled across the room as he slowly awoke. It took a moment for his brain to reboot, then he remembered where he was. That’s right. Hospital. Pain. Kidney unfun.
Nausea swam inside, accompanied by fresh shivers. Maybe those antibiotics still needed to kick in. He flicked open his phone and read today’s devotion on his Bible app.
The verse for today was from Matthew, chapter nineteen: With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.
And sure, it might be Jesus talking about who could be saved, but other New Testament verses showed that God could do miracles. Ephesians, chapter three, even talked about how God could do exceedingly abundantly above all we could ask or think.
God was a miracle-working God. Kyle knew it, but was grateful for the reminder, especially when the verse for today seemed an exact answer for last night’s prayer. “Thanks, God, that You’re God, and can do anything.”
His phone flashed with a notification and he opened up the Northwest Ice chat.
Hey Kyle, what do you call a person who donates a kidney?
He smiled at Tom Chavez’s question in the group chat, then typed back,
What?
Donate one kidney and they call you a hero. Donate two, they call you a saint. But donate three or four and suddenly you’re a monster.
He chuckled, his side instantly protesting. Oh well. It was worth a laugh.
Ryan Guillemette typed
Hope you’re feeling better.
Thanks. Hope you are too.
He smiled, as his message flew into cyberspace.
Edmonton had lost last night, so Seattle was now second place in the Pacific Division and positioned to gain home-ice advantage in the playoffs.
Each of the four divisions’ first- and second-placed teams were a lock, the last spaces wildcards based on points and percentages.
Now Seattle had overtaken Edmonton they needed to continue their momentum.
A facepalm emoji raced back, drawing another smile.
San Jose’s Doug Lehtonen joined the chat.
Why are kidneys so chill? Because they go with the flow.
Ha.
Drew Stanley, another newer member from Vancouver, added a meme.
What did one kidney say to the other one? It’s bean renal.
Kyle rolled his eyes, then typed,
You guys know I haven’t actually lost a kidney, right?
What? You’re wanting us to feel sorry for you and you haven’t even lost a kidney? I feel kid-ney sad.
That was Chris. Of course it was.
Kyle messaged
Dude, stop. These jokes are kid-ney bad.
Movement outside drew his attention to the door, but no. No visitors. His parents had left yesterday evening, and he’d finally let himself sink into the disappointment that Gen had been a no-show. Did she hate him that much? How could she not?
His thoughts flicked back to the cesspool of his memories he’d wallowed in during the early hours this morning, of just how hard it must’ve been for Gen to cope when he’d left.
She’d said she was fine, that he was right to pursue his dreams to play pro hockey, that she’d supported him.
He’d known she was equally passionate about chasing her dreams of medicine, so he’d always thought their break was mutual.
Of course it was hard, but it was what they’d both agreed on, as they’d both known their differing paths would make sustaining a relationship too hard.
He’d been given the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to play pro hockey, while she had finally been accepted to a west coast pre-med program complete with an awesome scholarship. How could either of them give that up?
So, had she missed him more than she’d admitted?
He’d thought it strange after years of being each other’s best friend to suddenly hear crickets.
They might’ve broken up as boyfriend-girlfriend, but he hadn’t realized she’d meant as friends too.
Or was that because reverting to friendship was too hard when they’d been more, so much more?
But when he couldn’t get through on her phone and realized she’d changed her number, he’d wondered if she thought it best they didn’t contact each other at all.
He’d even tried to find her a time or two, but she wasn’t on social media, and when he’d finally gone to visit her old place had learned from her neighbors that the Rivas family had packed up one night and disappeared without leaving a forwarding address.
Which still made him wonder why. This silence wasn’t to do with their last night together, was it?
Footsteps drew his attention to the door, and Gerry appeared. “Hey.”
“You’re looking better than the last time I was here,” the team’s trainer said.
His nose wrinkled. “Not sure I feel better.”
“Why? What’s happening?”
Kyle described his latest symptoms, which drew Gerry’s frown. “Sounds like you have an infection.”
“That’s what the doc said yesterday. He thought it might be that or an allergic reaction to something. They did more tests yesterday but I haven’t heard anything.” Kyle shrugged. “I don’t seem to be top of the need-to-know peeps, despite it being my kidney.”
“They’re wanting you to rest so you can recover properly,” Gerry assured. “So if the doc hasn’t given specifics then I guess it’s much the same.”
“Great.”
Gerry offered a small smile edged with sympathy. “So, are your folks still about?”
“They said they’d be in this morning.”
“That’ll be nice.”
“Yeah.”
Gerry’s head tilted. “Do I detect a little frustration?”
“Maybe. Don’t get me wrong, I’m super grateful they came all this way, but I’m not really looking forward to having my mom smother me with kindness when I get home.”
“Does she need to? Or can you hire a private nurse or something?”
“Huh. I hadn’t thought of that.”
Gerry shrugged. “It’s what some do. A private nurse or doctor.”
His mind flashed with the image of someone who had medical training enough to fit that role. Except there seemed no way of her ever agreeing to such a thing. Gen Rivas wanting to help him felt as out of reach as a distant sun in a galaxy far, far away. Impossible.
Then the verse he’d been reading earlier slid to awareness: With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible…
He sighed. Lord, if there’s any way You can bring about reconciliation with her, I’d really appreciate it. Actually, I know You can do that. So I guess I’m just saying that I’d really like it if that could happen soon.
Gerry was still looking at him, so Kyle nodded. “Thanks. I’ll give it some thought.”
The sound of heels tapping tugged his attention to the door. But no, not Gen. His parents. “Hey Mom, Dad.”
“Oh, sweetie, it’s good to see you.” Mom pecked his cheek.
“How are you feeling, Son?” Dad asked.
“Yeah, not great.”
Gerry made his quiet excuses and escaped, and Kyle settled in for more small talk, relieved when Dr. Winthrop finally appeared.
“Things aren’t looking as good as I’d like,” he said, after a quick examination of the surgical site. “I’d like to put you on a new IV antibiotic to see if this resolves. If not, then we may have to go back to surgery to see if there’s a pocket of blood or pus that was missed and became infected.”
Mom made a face that matched her noise of distaste. Amen. “And then?”
“Then if we get this resolved we should see you released by the end of the week.”
“That long?” Dad’s voice held an accusation.
“So much depends on the health of the patient, and yes, six days is quite conservative because Kyle is otherwise in good health. Of course if there are further complications or the infection doesn’t heal then that may be adjusted.”
Kyle sighed. “I guess I’m staying for a while longer then.”
As his parents continued to fuss, and Kyle grew more aware that his injury had intruded upon his father’s work plans, he took comfort in one fact.
The longer he stayed here, the greater the chance that he’d see Gen again.
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