| All the facts presented are a product (thank God) of my imagination.
I don't like hospitals.
As a matter of fact, I hate them, but I'm here nonetheless, letting them stick needles in my arm and watching as they take my blood.
It seemed like a good idea at the time; you could save a life, they told me. They might never call you.
Well, it didn't take long to prove that wrong, but seriously. What are the odds?
Even though I dislike my current situation, it would be a lie if I said being the only hope for someone doesn't make me happy. It does, it really does, I just wish I knew who this person is.
Impossible, I know, but apparently we're compatible, which means we've got at least something in common. Unfortunately, a little thing called privacy stands in my way and I doubt it will be going anywhere anytime soon.
This is pretty much why I've given up on trying to find out who I'm donating to- Without even having started. If I stop to think about it, though, it seems awfully unfair.
I mean, I'm giving away part of myself, why can't I know where it goes?
While I think things over, a nurse shuffles by my side and removes the needle. She's probably talking to me, while she presses a small piece of cotton to my arm, covering the tiny puncture. I don't hear her.
To be fair, I've got more important things to think about; like finding my mystery person, for example.
I have no time to pay attention to the monotonous words she probably tells all the patients who wander in and out of here every day. Take it easy, go slow, eat something.
Yeah, yeah.
Whatever.
The first time I try to get up, I fall back on the chair, closing my eyes and taking deep breaths. However, I have no intention of spending my afternoon in this place and I've already been here too long: I soon force myself up and leave the room hastily, passing by a way-too-long queue of people, all waiting to go through my same ordeal.
A shrill voice off to the side attracts my attention.
I soon pinpoint the source of the noise, and realize it's two nurses, leaning together and muttering way too loudly to be discreet.
«Oh, that poor boy! » The older one says, covering her mouth with the palm of her hand. I take a step closer. «He's so young…» She trails off and I furrow my brows slightly while trying to seem interested in a pamphlet stuck to a board on the wall. Something about washing your hands to stop the spread of the flu, I think.
«The transplant will help him.» The other chirps, nodding as if her words were the ultimate truth. I can't help but shuffle just that bit closer to hear the rest, but the conversation dies out before I can find anything else out.
«Excuse me…» I don't realize it's my voice before it's too late. Both nurses give me a once over and a quizzical look after they've assessed my life is in no immediate danger.
«Um. » I say. Then I snap out of it, flashing my best grin to the younger one. She has pretty red hair and seems friendly enough to grant me a favor.
«I didn't mean to be eavesdropping, but could you tell me who you were talking about? » Just that. Like I was stupid enough to actually believe something like that would work. Nice work, Dan. Right on track.
I can tell by their expressions that I'm not going to be getting an answer out of them anytime soon, so I quickly shake my head. «Sorry. » I mutter. «Forget it. » And with that, I turn to leave.
I'm actually surprised when she stops me; it's the redhead, the friendly one, and she smiles a little crooked smile, while whispering. «You're the one who's donating, right? We don't get many like you around here. »
Right. Like they told me, "they'll probably never call you." I must be quite the news around here. Well, anything here is news, actually.
«This boy…Is he the one I'm compatible with? » I ask, risking the "that's none of your business" speech. But she surprises me once again, leaning in closer.
«I shouldn't tell you, but yes. He is. »
For some reason, my heart skips a beat as I stare her straight in the eye. I wasn't expecting it to be so easy, but so hard at the same time. At this point, I just want to see how much I'll be able to get out of her.
«Oh. » Well, so much for the carefully studied questions, Dan. I shake my head a little.
«Uh, I mean…» I start again, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans. «What's wrong with him? »
She merely looks down, sighing as if the world is going to end and there's nothing left to do to save it. «I'm sorry. » She answers. «I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't tell you that. »
I nod. Yeah, sure, it's okay, I understand.
Privacy, damn privacy. So I leave, giving her only one last, brief look, before heading back home.