On Tuesday afternoon, after several rough drafts, false starts, and changes of mind, I’d sent Susan an email inviting her to dinner with us any night but Friday. She’d responded within a few hours, suggesting that we make it Thursday, and I’d breathed a sigh of relief that it would be such a long way off.
Then, Thursday arrived.
“Are you sure you don’t mind us ditching you for a little bit?” I asked El-Mudad as the car turned onto Fifth Avenue. We’d flown into the city together, but he wouldn’t stay with Neil and me for the dinner. We’d decided that explaining his presence would be one more complication for an already complex evening.
El-Mudad shook his head, gracious as ever. “I told you, I will be fine. It will be nice to visit with Grace.”
A surprising shock of jealousy spiked through me. I wanted to demand to know who this “Grace” was, even though he’d volunteered the information. Grace was a friend of his ex-wife’s. She and El-Mudad were still on friendly terms. There was nothing sinister in that.
The intercom crackled, and the driver’s voice announced, “Mr. and Mrs. Elwood, we’ve arrived,” as the car pulled to a stop.
“Thank you.” Neil hit the button. I sat squished between him and El-Mudad, and I got even more squished as they leaned in for a goodbye kiss.
I laughed and pushed them apart then left a territorial lipstick mark on El-Mudad’s cheek. “Be good. I’ll text when the coast is clear.”
“I am at your beck and call,” he promised, grabbing my hand and bringing it to his lips.
The driver opened the door. Neil got out and offered me his hand, saying to the chauffeur, “Take Mr. Ati wherever he’d like. He’s in charge for the rest of the evening.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” El-Mudad called.
We waited on the sidewalk until the car began to pull away. Still smiling, barely moving his lips, Neil said, “I don’t like Grace.”
“I don’t, either,” I agreed with a laugh, and put my arm around his waist. “Come on.”
When I’d made the arrangements with Susan, it had seemed practical to suggest our apartment as a meeting place. What we wanted to talk about was a topic that was too serious to brook interruption by servers or the chatter of other diners. But when we entered the lobby, every click of my heels on the marble floor increased my dread. What if Susan and Travis thought I was trying to show off? Flaunt my wealth in front of them?
“Sophie?” Neil asked, following me into the elevator. “You’re rather pale.”
I touched my face gingerly. “Am I? I tried this new internet trick where you put powder on and then dunk your face—”
“No, I meant you look…unsteady.” He cupped my cheek and tilted my face up, his eyes scanning mine. “Are you going to be able to do this?”
I gently turned away from his touch. I didn’t want to jerk away or seem like I was angry with him. I wasn’t. But I didn’t like knowing that he was watching me as though I were a ticking time bomb or something.
Now, I knew how he felt when I did it to him.
“I’ll be fine. I promise.” I couldn’t actually promise. I assumed he knew that. “I’m just nervous. This will be the longest I’ve ever been in the same room with her. What about you? Will you be fine?”
He grimaced, suddenly very interested in the lights indicating the floors we passed. “Of course.”
“It’s not an ‘of course’ question.” The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. I fished for my keys in my purse as we stepped into the entryway. “You’re not going to be confrontational or cold to them, right?”
“I’m not exactly thrilled about the purpose of their visit,” he admitted, holding the door for me so I could step into the foyer. “Would you like me to have your kidney already taken out and on a platter when they come in?”
I nudged him with my arm. “Be nice. This is going to be awkward for them, too. Probably more than it will be for us. I just don’t need you contributing to that atmosphere.”
“This isn’t about me, remember? I’m supposed to be here for you, and that’s what I plan to do. You’ve certainly swallowed your pride and hidden your feelings toward guests in this house over the years.” His tone was mild, but coupled with his words, it sent a very definite message: I’ll be just as nice to them as you ever were to Valerie.
“You know what? I’ll take it.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Do you need to change?”
He glanced down at his white button-down and dark blue jeans and frowned. “Am I not properly attired?”
“No, you’re perfect.” I, on the other hand, felt a little too dolled up in my heels and capped sleeve, floral printed sheath dress. What had I been thinking? I wanted to put them at ease, not make them feel like they’d accidentally stumbled into a photo shoot with Rich Assholes Magazine. “I’m going to change, though.”
As I moved toward the bedroom, Neil caught my hand. I turned back. I was glad I did. His warm green eyes locked on mine in tender assurance, and the brief squeeze he gave my fingers was as good as an hour-long psych up talk.
“Go check on dinner,” I said, nodding toward the kitchen, where the caterer would already be hard at work.
I hadn’t left much in the way of a wardrobe in the closet, but I did have a few key pieces. I swapped my dress for a pair of dark indigo jeans and a lavender silk blouse, and my heels for black ballet flats. I’d spent way too much time on my makeup to throw all the effort away, now, but I took off my pearl earrings and necklace—it wasn’t like I was going to take them on a tour of the White House Rose Garden or something.
The impression I’d been trying to make when we left the house was a lot different from the impression I wanted to make, now. I thought. It would have helped a lot to know what impression I actually wanted to make.
I used to take such pride in knowing that I never tried to be someone I wasn’t, but I’d never really confronted the fact that who I was had completely changed since I’d met Neil. It wasn’t just the money; the things that had happened to us—cancer, death, mental illness—had forced me to take on roles I’d rather myopically assumed I would never have to take. Now, confronted with yet another role, I didn’t know how to make it fit. Wealthy-Sister-with-Compatible-Organs seemed more couture than pret-a-porter.
I left my hair in the bouncy curls I’d worked hard to make “just so”. I’ve always felt that makeup and hair are like armor. A good blow-out or perfect cat’s eye made me invincible in the face of danger.
“Darling?” Neil called from the bedroom. “You should go to the kitchen. It smells divine.”
“I don’t want to get in their way,” I said, emerging from the closet. “What do you think?”
“You look a bit more casual than when we arrived,” he observed, and sat on the couch in front of the fireplace. “That’s not like you at all.”
“I don’t know what I’m like in this situation.” I sat beside him and pulled my feet up, kicking off my shoes. “I didn’t want to seem…stuffy.”
He didn’t say anything but put an arm around me to gently pull me against his side. “You have never, for a single day that I have known you, seemed stuffy.”
“Well, you’re not a very good judge of that. I mean…English.” I shrugged and gave him my best wide-eyed, innocent look.
“Very funny.” He sighed, and I wriggled even closer, letting my head rest on his chest.
“I guess stuffy isn’t the right word,” I corrected myself. “Snobby. That’s the one I meant.”
“Ah, yes. The dreaded snobbery.” His eye roll was practically audible.
“Hey, you don’t get it.” And he wouldn’t, no matter how often I tried to explain it to him. “I can absolutely be a snob. I do it all the time. There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to be that way to a newfound family.”
“There isn’t,” he agreed. “But there also isn’t any point in making yourself flustered trying to achieve some goal you haven’t even properly defined.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t want to be a ‘snob’,” he began. “But what about this situation makes you snobbish? Because you have a large, expensive apartment? Because you dress a certain way, or you’ve done your hair? Do you think they expect to find you in sackcloth and ashes when they arrive?”
“No.” That was just silly.
“And when they arrive, are you going to treat them as though they’re muddy dogs you don’t want on the furniture? Will you ask them not to touch anything for fear they might contaminate it or steal it?”
“Obviously not, Neil.” I hated when he made broad points like this. Because he was usually right.
“Then, how are you being a snob?” he asked.
“I just don’t want them to think I’m trying to act rich or something.”
Neil laughed. “We are rich. They’re bound to notice. I’m sure she got an inkling when she researched you.”
“I know, but I don’t want them to think that I think I’m better than them because of it.” I rubbed my temples. “I know you don’t get this.”
“You’re right. I don’t. I probably never will. But that doesn’t make your worries less valid.” He paused. “Would it make you feel better if we all ate in the kitchen?”
“Where the caterers are working?” Yeah, that would definitely make us seem more down to earth. “No. Besides, I’m not trying to pretend I made all that food myself. That’s such an Aunt Patty thing to do.”
“Ah, yes. Great-Aunt Patty’s famous Sara Lee pies.” Neil shook his head; he’d heard my mother and grandmother complain more than once about Patty’s “fake” pies.
“That’s a really good example, though,” I said, sitting up with the epiphany. “This entire life is like the store-bought pie. I didn’t earn any of this. It just happened to come as part of a package deal with the guy I married. But here I am, passing it off like it’s authentic. Like I made it myself. But they know I didn’t. They’re coming here, seeing all of this, and knowing that I’m just…nobody.”
“You aren’t ‘nobody’,” Neil argued. “You’re someone I love very much. And I’m not the only one.”
“I know, it’s just…” I made a frustrated noise. “They already know that I’m not like this. They knew that I grew up…less.”
“I’m sure they have more now than they did as children, as well. They run a company, after all.” He sounded very sensible, but it wasn’t what I meant.
“Not monetarily. They had families. TV families, you know? With a mom and a dad and siblings. I didn’t have that.” I didn’t quite know how that equated with money, but I was sure my therapist could help me figure that out. After all of this, I would be in dire need of a mental tune-up.
“And you feel that because you didn’t have that, and because you didn’t have money, you don’t deserve anything good in your life?”
So, Neil was apparently standing in for my therapist.
I didn’t want to admit he was right. Damn it. “Maybe. I just can’t stand the thought that she might sit there and think, ‘yeah, you have all this fancy stuff, but you were still unlovable.’”
“I doubt she’ll be thinking that,” Neil said gently. “And if she does, then she has her own problems that need working on.”
I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees, and let my head hang. Neil rubbed my shoulders like he was coaching me through a boxing match.
“You’re about to do something very difficult, Sophie,” he said, close to my ear as his strong hands kneaded my muscles. “And I admire you for it. Greatly. You had a chance to simply ignore all of this, but you chose to confront it.
“It kind of came to my office and confronted me,” I reminded him.
“That’s true,” he conceded. “But if someone had come to my office and asked me for one of my internal organs, I would have had security escort them out of the building.”
I snorted. “See? I told you. Snob.”
The reassuring massage turned into an out-and-out tickle assault. He hauled me, struggling, into his lap, and forced his face between my ear and shoulder to nibble on the most ticklish spot on my neck.
“Don’t, don’t, you’ll give me stubble burn!” I gasped, pushing at his chest. Only the threat of embarrassing marks made him relent, and when he released me, I dashed to the bathroom to splash cold water on my neck. Sure enough, he’d left a red scrape. I hoped it would fade before Susan and Travis arrived.
I came out and headed to the dining room to check out the setup. The housekeepers from the agency always did a great job with things, but maybe they’d gone a little overboard for our dinner. I shouldn’t have stressed that it was an important occasion. They’d used the Versace Byzantine Dreams china and Baccarat water glasses, and placed a whole goddamn flowering apple branch in the center of the table in lieu of a floral arrangement. Beside each plate, a small crystal bowl of apple blossom petals sat there doing absolutely nothing useful.
“Neil!” I called, hurrying through the living room to find him. “Seriously, we need to have a talk with the housekeepers, because I might have to fire the agen—”
As I stepped through the wide doorway from the living room into the foyer, I practically skidded to a halt. Susan and Travis stood there, beside Neil, who looked as though he’d swallowed something horizontally.
“Sophie. I thought you would have heard the doorbell,” he said, his smile tense.
“No, I didn’t, I was just—” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “There’s a…tree. On our dining room table. It’s weird.”
Susan and Travis’s eyebrows went up in unison, and they nodded as though they understood. Which was kind of them to pretend.
“I swear, I don’t run around threatening to fire people all the time.” Why are you still talking? Why are you still talking!
“Only on Thursdays,” Neil interjected smoothly. He motioned ahead of him. “Shall we go into the living room? Dinner isn’t quite ready, I’m afraid.”
“Sorry we’re so early,” Travis said, coming to shake my hand. “We didn’t know how long the subway would take.”
“You took the subway?” Neil asked, and I winced internally. “When you leave, you must let us hire you a car. I know how tiring trade conferences can be.”
Did he? I supposed he must have gone to some kinds of expos or conventions in his line of work, but never since I’d known him. It might have just been an off-the-cuff remark to try to break the ice.
“That’s great, man, thanks,” Travis said, and nudged Susan. “Isn’t that nice?”
“Yes, thank you.” Susan’s eyes met mine, and a silent understanding passed between us. In working so hard to make this less awkward, our husbands had succeeded in making it far more uncomfortable than it might have been.
“The living room is this way,” I said motioning for them to follow us.
Everything, from the thick dark wood beams across the stark white ceiling to the designer rug beneath our feet, seemed more pretentious than usual. I almost apologized, but thankfully, I realized how fucking terrible an apology like that would sound. Sorry our things are so impressive and expensive.
“Wow, you have a beautiful home,” Susan said, her expression brightening.
“Susan is a realtor,” Travis said, a hint of pride in his voice.
“Well, I got my license. I’m not putting my pictures on any signs, yet.” Her eyes were everywhere, scaling the walls and sliding over the fireplace. “I wouldn’t be able to sell this place, though. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Well, it’s pre-war, renovated ten years ago,” Neil rattled off. “Three bedrooms, three and a half baths, service quarters, home gym, home theatre, steam showers in the master and en-suites…”
Susan laughed. She laughed, like she wasn’t the same person I’d met on Monday. “Half of that is way above my pay grade.”
Susan and Travis sat on the sofa. Her posture was stiff, his “business casual”, like he was trying to be relatable and warm to a client. Neil and I took the chairs.
“So, Sophie,” Travis began. “We didn’t have much time to catch up at the reunion. Sunny says you work for a magazine?”
“Yeah, well, I own it,” I corrected him. “I don’t know how much work I actually do, compared to some of our employees.”
“I know that feeling. I see some of our guys are out there unloading trusses or driving the forklift in November, and I’m sitting in my nice warm office.” He laughed. “Sophie knows all about the winters there.”
I nodded and gestured toward Neil. “He’s pretty familiar with bad winters, himself. He spent most of his childhood in Iceland.”
“I read that in your book,” Susan said, then, a little more subdued, “I’m sorry if it’s strange to say that.”
“I told her she shouldn’t have,” Travis added quickly. “Now, she knows more about you than you know about her.”
A lump stuck in my throat. I cleared it and tried not to dwell on that stolen familial relationship. “No, it’s okay. So many strangers have read it, I don’t think I have any secrets, anymore.”
“Did anyone in your family read it?” Travis seemed genuinely interested, not like he was just making small talk. And that was nice and all, but he’d just cleanly carved a line between Susan and I. Did anyone in your family read it? Because your biological half-sister did. But you’re not our family.
“You know that at least one of them did,” Neil said. While his tone was conversational, I knew every possible tone of his voice and how it correlated to which emotion. The reply was terse and defensive, though I doubted either of our guests would notice.
“So, is your granddaughter here?” Susan asked, shifting topics.
“No, Olivia is with her grandmother.” Neil paused. “I suppose you’ve read all about her, too?”
“Hey!” I laughed. “I didn’t make Valerie out to be that bad.”
“I admired the fact that you could sound as objective as you did,” Susan said, genuine kindness in her voice. Then, to Neil, “And I’m glad you came through your cancer okay. And the transplant.”
The word electrified the air between us. That was the whole reason she was here. Not because she wanted to get to know me. At least, not aside from what she’d read in my books.
Thankfully, the caterer stepped into the room. “Mr. Elwood? We can serve at any time. Just let us know when you’re ready.”
“Thank you.” He stood, as eager to escape the moment as I was. “I think we’re ready, now.”
Susan and Travis followed us to the dining room.
“Oh my god, there really is a tree on your table,” she said, her jaw dropping in an expression so similar to one of mine that it took me aback.
“Y-yeah, I think they heard that people from Michigan were coming, and they were like, ‘Quick, what’s the state flower? We have to make them feel welcome!’” I was so relieved they laughed at my joke.
“Where should we…” she asked, gesturing toward the table.
“Oh, either side is fine,” I said with a wave of my hand. Like this was all super casual, when we were about to be served dinner by hired staff in our home. We both sat across from Travis and Susan, and I immediately found myself apologizing. “I’m sorry, we don’t usually have people waiting on us in our house. I just didn’t want to be stuck in the kitchen cooking.”
“You wouldn’t have been, darling.” Neil winked at me, then explained to them, “I do most of the cooking.”
“I thought you guys would have had this enormous mansion and servants and stuff,” Travis joked.
“Well, they do have, don’t you?” Susan asked. “I remember that part in your book. It’s in London?”
“No, there’s a townhouse in London. The manor house is in Somerset,” Neil answered automatically.
I resisted the urge to knee him under the table.
“And this is our home when we’re in the city,” he went on. “But we have a house in the Hamptons where we usually stay.”
“I’m not sure it technically counts as being in the Hamptons.” I didn’t knee him, but I did nudge him a little. “It’s in Sagaponack.”
Yeah, that made it all better.
“Wow. You really did well for yourself, Sophie,” Travis said.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Neil’s posture tighten up. I quickly grabbed his hand. “I really did. I never planned on having a husband or a family, but I ended up with a great one.”
There. I would just pretend Travis hadn’t been congratulating me for snagging a rich husband.
A uniformed waiter entered with soup, and we all sat far too silently as he served us. Neil thanked him when he was finished, and we were alone, again.
“Is this potato soup?” Travis asked after his first bite.
“Leek and potato,” Neil confirmed. He’d carefully planned the menu with the caterer, as determined to make the night a success as I was. It was the small amount of control he’d had over the situation.
And that was it. We’d run out of the things to talk about. And we’d only just been served the first course.
The silence was like a lead boot on a scuba diver, dragging us down deeper and deeper into an abyss of social despair.
Maybe we should have asked El-Mudad to come with us. He was way cooler than either of us. He could have come to our rescue.
Finally, Susan put down her spoon. “I was going to wait until after dinner, but I think we need to talk about the reason I’m here.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It feels wrong not having it out there.”
“Exactly.” She smiled gratefully.
“And there’s no reason we can’t have a nice, friendly dinner just because we’re talking about a serious subject,” I added quickly. I might as well have put a big flashing “PLEASE LOVE ME!” sign on my forehead.
But to my surprise, Susan’s smile grew even warmer. “Right, exactly. I think, earlier, I gave you the impression that I didn’t want to be around you or…”
“Or get to know me. That was the impression I got, yeah.” My voice sounded so small.
“I know how hurtful that was of me, and I’m sorry.” She looked down at her bowl. “I think that’s something we need to talk about privately, though. No offense to the guys.”
I let out a breath of relief. “Yeah. No offense to them, it’s just…we’re the ones dealing with this.”
“We are, too,” Travis said quietly.
Neil shifted in his chair. “Not quite as intensely as Sophie and Susan.”
“But you’re here to talk about my kidney,” I said after a brief pause.
She nodded.
“It must have taken an extraordinary amount of courage to ask,” Neil said, his tone utterly sincere. He was trying to put her at ease, despite his own feelings, and I appreciated the effort.
“I don’t know if I would call it that,” Susan said, still not meeting our eyes. “I have no right to ask.”
“If someone I loved needed that kind of help, I would have done the same thing.” I knew that with all my heart. How could anyone withhold life from another person? Inflict that pain?
And I knew, in that moment, that my mind was made up. I was going to do it.
But I also knew better than to announce it in a rash moment of realization, without first informing my husband and our boyfriend. “Why don’t you tell me about Molly?” I suggested. “What’s she like?”
Susan’s entire face lit up at the mere mention of her—our—sister. “Well, she’s…willful. She’s definitely at that know-it-all teenager stage. But she loves musicals, movies. She wants to move here to be an actress.”
“We wanted to bring her along with us,” Travis interjected. “But it conflicted with summer arts camp.”
I couldn’t stop myself from imagining what it would be like to have a little sister, to fly her out here and dazzle her with a new Broadway show every night. To take her to a party where she might meet someone famous. To put her up here while she auditioned for shows and lived her dream—
Those thoughts came to a crashing halt when I saw them for what they were. I couldn’t buy another person’s love. I couldn’t make a family that didn’t want me beholden to me.
“Another time, perhaps,” Neil said. It wasn’t an offer, but an open door.
“Another time.” Susan picked up her spoon and idly stirred her soup. “I think you would really like her.”
“Maybe I’ll get a chance to meet her.” I shrugged. “That would be up to her, though.”
“A half-sister with an apartment in New York?” Travis laughed. “Yeah, I think she’ll want to meet you.”
“Don’t make her sound like that.” Susan sounded terse. I got the impression that maybe this had been discussed before they’d arrived.
Travis wasn’t impressing me, or Neil, judging from his body language. There was far too much wink wink, nudge nudge about our money happening. I didn’t doubt Susan’s motives in being here at all; anyone would have seen how much she loved her sister, and how desperate she was to help her. But Travis… I wouldn’t turn my proverbial back on him.
“I do love teenagers.” Neil’s voice took on a wistful tone. A few years ago, I might have made a crack about our age gap and our first encounter. But a few years ago, he wouldn’t have been longing for his lost child.
I fought back tears—they always came at the most unexpected times, even now—and cleared my throat. “If I were to donate, what would that entail? I’m not familiar with the process.”
That was a lie. I had read everything I could possibly Google to learn about all the stages of donation. But it wouldn’t feel real until someone connected to it told me.
“First, you’d have to be screened to make sure you’re a match,” Susan explained. “If you are, then you would have to meet with the transplant team, I guess.”
“Where would that be?” Neil asked.
“Ann Arbor, probably,” I answered without thinking. “Sorry. He was asking you.”
Susan shook her head. “It’s fine. You’re right, they’d do it at U of M.”
Neil leaned forward in his seat. “And how quickly would this get underway? Weeks? Months?”
“I don’t know,” Susan said, just as the kitchen door opened. A server poked her head out, and Neil turned.
“Sorry, I think we need a moment before the next course,” he said apologetically. “I’ll let you know when the moment is more…appropriate.”
The server nodded and closed the door.
Susan took a deep breath and tried answering, again. “I’m not sure how fast things would move. I get the impression that a lot of that has to do with when it’s safe for her to have the surgery.”
Neil nodded thoughtfully. “Which we understand. My transplant was autogenic, and cells are a bit different from whole organs, I’m sure. But I imagine there are some similar criteria.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Susan admitted. “But at least you’re not total rookies.”
“No, that we certainly are not,” Neil said.
A lull fell over the table, again. This time, it felt like expectation. The longer it went on, the more I wanted to be the first to say it, rather than be asked outright.
It came out on a sudden breath, far too fast and painfully clumsy: “I need some time to think about it.” I hated knowing that she’d hoped for another answer. “I just have to…protect myself.”
Travis frowned and held up a hand then let it fall in disbelief. “From what?”
Neil made a noise, as though he were about to leap to my defense but backed off just in time.
“I have to protect my emotions.” I wouldn’t budge on this. Of all the times I needed to be my own best friend, it was now. “I know you guys are going through a lot, but please understand that I am, too. Imagine spending your whole life trying to figure out why your father didn’t love his daughter, and then, you find out that, yeah. He did. Just not you.”
“That isn’t Molly’s fault!” Travis snapped.
“Excuse me!” Neil’s voice rose. His patience with Travis had run out. “You are here asking my wife for a piece of her body. The least you could do is show some consideration for her feelings.”
“We’re here asking her to save her sister’s life!” Travis shot back. “The least you could do is treat it like an emergency and not some fancy fucking dinner party!”
He pushed his chair back and threw his napkin down, storming from the room.
Susan looked between the two of us with the desperate expression of someone deciding whether or not to jump from a burning building. If she followed her husband, she walked out on a chance at saving her sister’s life.
“He’s right,” I said quickly. “It isn’t her fault. And it isn’t yours. And I’m not going to punish your family for the choices your father made. No matter what I ultimately decide, we’ll pay for the cost of the transplant. Or whatever insurance doesn’t cover.” I shot a look to Neil, to silence him in case he had something angry to add. “It’s the least I can do.”
“The least you could do is nothing, which is what Travis expected.” Susan closed her eyes. “I am so sorry.”
“Not at all,” Neil said, though he didn’t offer an apology for his reaction. “Emotions are running high.”
“I’d better go after him,” she said, her face flushing brighter. “And after you’ve gone to so much trouble.”
I waved my hand. “Don’t worry about it. Maybe we could meet, again, just you and I? Before you go back to Michigan.”
She hesitated “I…I’ll be in touch, okay?”
“Sure. I’ll walk you out.” I stressed the “I” so Neil would know I didn’t want him to come with me, and accompanied Susan out to the foyer. Travis waited in the entryway, but he hadn’t called the elevator, yet. He appeared somewhat subdued, at least.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, but it was disingenuous. He wasn’t sorry. He was pissed off at us. Probably because I seemed so cavalier about the life of someone he loved.
“Don’t worry about it.” I didn’t want to hear whatever justification he would tack on next. “You guys just have a safe trip back to the hotel, okay?”
“Thank you,” Susan said to me. She barely acknowledged Travis. I wasn’t a psychic, but I could predict angry words in that hotel room tonight. “And thank you for your generous offer.”
“Would you like us to call you a car?” I asked, hoping they would decline. I didn’t want to try and make small talk while we waited for it to arrive, now that everything had blown up.
“We’ll be fine,” Travis said tersely.
“I’ll be in touch,” I repeated her words back to her, hit the elevator button, and waited in stilted silence until the doors opened and they got inside.
Back in the dining room, Neil was directing the caterers to clean up the place settings. He glanced at me when I entered, then away, then back, sheepishly. “Sophie, I am so sorry. And embarrassed of my behavior. I shouldn’t have let my anger—”
“Nah.” I shook my head. I was too emotionally exhausted to be pissed off, and he wouldn’t have been the target, anyway. “He was a prick. Acting all entitled to my organs.”
“Susan was lovely,” Neil was quick to interject. “And she seems understanding.”
I didn’t want to talk about it in front of the strangers clearing up our suddenly canceled dinner. It was humiliating. “Look, I’m still hungry. Can you tell them to just leave the food?”
“Of course, I’ll have them leave it in the kitchen.” Neil’s brow furrowed. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I just need a minute to be…not in here.”
I headed for the bedroom. There were so many places I could go in the house, but this was my sanctuary. It still felt like the only place in the apartment that was really mine, even though I shared it with Neil. I flopped onto the couch and grabbed the remote, clicking on the television. It didn’t matter what was on; I wouldn’t be watching, anyway. I just needed artificial noise to drown out reality while I worked out my feelings.
Was I being selfish? A teenage girl needed a kidney to survive. A girl who had similar dreams to the ones I’d had when I’d been living in a small U.P. town. All she wanted was to grow up and get out, into a world I’d fallen ass-backwards into.
Every day, the divide between the life I used to live and the life I lived grew wider. When I’d first moved in with Neil, I’d felt like I didn’t fit into a world where designer clothes, palatial homes, and impulsive trips were the norm. Suddenly, I felt like that world didn’t fit in with me.
But there was no going back. It wasn’t like Neil could throw his money into a fire or something. And it wasn’t like I could just buy myself another kidney, another life if something went wrong. This decision had nothing to do with money, and everything to do with me.
Neil knocked on the door, as if this wasn’t his bedroom, too.
“Come in,” I called, and he entered cautiously, closing the door softly behind him.
He walked over to the couch with his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry that I lost my temper. You asked me to let you take the lead, and I couldn’t do it, even through a single dinner.”
“It’s okay. Really, it is. You were trying to defend me. Even if I probably didn’t deserve it.” I sat up and ran a hand over my hair.
“Why wouldn’t you deserve it?” Neil asked, sitting beside me.
“Well, because here I am, knowing that there’s this kid out there who could die without my help, and I’m whining about how her daddy didn’t do enough for me.” I made a noise of disgust aimed solely at myself. “I’m being ridiculous.”
“I don’t think you are,” he said, and before I could argue that of course he would think that where I was concerned, he went on. “This isn’t just about your sister or your father. You’re involved in this. They chose to involve you. They don’t get to set the terms of your acceptance if you go through with this.”
“I don’t even know if there are terms of acceptance.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, he asked, “Because there won’t be an acceptance?”
“No.” I stated definitely. “I’m doing it.”
He took a deep breath.
“I have to.” I hoped he could understand. I thought he might, already. “All this girl wants is the same chance I wanted when I was her age. Move to New York, live some glamorous dream. No, it doesn’t work out for anybody, but she at least deserves to fantasize about it without tacking on, ‘if I’m still alive’ to the end. What kind of person would I be if I could give that to her and was like, ‘Nah, my hurt feelings are more important than you living. Hard pass’? Not the kind of person I want to be.”
“If this is something…” He stopped to reconsider his words. “If this is something you really couldn’t live with, there’s no reason you should. I don’t like the idea of you going in for major surgery, but donation is fairly safe. And we have no idea if you’re even a candidate.”
“That’s why I offered them money. Maybe I shouldn’t have.”
“Oh, I don’t think money is a problem. How much can a single kidney transplant cost? A million dollars?” he asked, as though that sum were nothing.
“Around three-hundred thousand,” I corrected him. “But for most people, it might as well be a million. I’m worried about them thinking I’m throwing my money in their faces.”
“Because of what he said about the fancy dinner party?” he asked with a sigh. “I knew I went overboard.”
“No, it’s not just the caterer or the…stupid fucking tree branch in the middle of the table? Ugh,” I groaned. “What was that about?”
“Sophie. Stay on topic,” Neil said gently.
“Right.” I rubbed my left temple with my fingertips. “So, yeah. I’m a little embarrassed to have all this stuff when they don’t? And when my family doesn’t, or the people I went to school with—”
“Most people don’t have the things we do. You’re always reminding me of that. Are you worried you’re not mindful of it?”
“No. I mean, it’s not about not being mindful. I know how lucky we are.” The reason was far more superficial than I would have liked to admit. “I guess I just want everyone to know that I know.”
He paused, thoughtful. “I’ve never once felt guilty about my wealth. Maybe because I’ve always had it? But I don’t understand why you do. When you were fantasizing about the fashion world back in Calumet, were you hoping for a life where you couldn’t own those fabulous clothes you saw in magazines?”
“No,” I admitted.
“So, you got what you wanted. Why feel guilty about enjoying it?” Neil didn’t mean to sound like the poster boy for the One Percent, I knew he didn’t. And I knew how much of his fortune he’d spent on charitable causes, even before he’d started the crisis center. But he couldn’t possibly understand how strange the last few years had been for me. It was like one big shame pimple had been building up that entire time and had now just exploded like a water balloon of pus.
“Sophie, you look a bit green,” Neil said.
“Trust me, if you’d just seen the metaphor I saw in my head, you would, too.” I shook it off. “This isn’t something you can help me with. I guess I need to find some…trophy wife support group or something.”
“I believe those are called Pilates classes,” he said with a snarky smile. I gave him a little push. If anything could put me at ease, it was humor, especially his. And while I didn’t feel instantly all better—and this problem was far from solved—he’d at least alleviated some of the ick for tonight.
****
El-Mudad had told us not to wait up for him, but I was surprised that he wasn’t back by the time Neil and I went to bed at midnight. When I woke at around two-thirty to pee and he wasn’t in bed with us, I wandered through the apartment to see if I could find him. I held my breath as I walked down the hall; I hated being near Emma’s room, but blue light flickered from within the home theater.
The penthouse boasted a miniature movie-theater with a state-of-the-art projection television and red velvet upholstered seats that surrounded a large bed made up with a matching red-velvet cover. Neil had built it for Emma to have sleepovers with her friends, but we’d put it to a much different use in past years.
El-Mudad sat in the front row of seats; they were positioned six-across, and he’d taken one directly in the center. The Transporter played on the screen.
“Hey,” I said quietly as I entered, finishing the knot on my robe belt. “You’re up early.”
He startled then relaxed. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be awake.”
“Not sleepy?” I didn’t want to ask him what time he got in. I didn’t want to sound like a jealous girlfriend.
“I helped myself to dinner.” He lifted up one of the aluminum pans the caterer had left behind.
I took a seat beside him. “I thought the salad was good.”
“Did the evening not go as planned?” he asked, setting aside the pan, again, and looping an arm around me.
“I suppose it could have gone worse.” And it could have. “Everyone could have died from poisoned leek soup.”
He made a grim noise. “I’m sorry it didn’t go as you’d hoped.”
I shrugged. “What about your night?”
“Lovely. I haven’t seen Grace for years.” He watched my face carefully. “I didn’t fuck her.”
“I know you didn’t. I trust you.” And I did. Neil and I both did. But for some reason, we’d been a bit jealous. “How do you know her?”
“She used to date my wife. It was nice to catch up with her. Compare battle wounds,” he said, still sounding defeated over the subject.
Two reactions warred within me: sadness that he’d been through such a painful experience, irrational jealousy that a new romance with us wasn’t enough to heal him. I forced the second one away.
I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Neil was divorced. Have you talked to him about it?”
“No. I knew he was divorced, but…” El-Mudad paused. “You never want to hear about your partner’s ex, do you?”
“Good point.”
“Sophie…” he began softly. “Did you make a decision? Or did tonight end things?”
Was that trepidation I heard in his voice? “I made a decision. There was just some friction. I haven’t told them, yet.”
He didn’t say anything but nodded and pretended to be interested in the movie, again.
“Did you want to know what I decided?” I prompted.
He shifted uneasily. “Only if you’re comfortable telling me.”
“I’m going to do it.”
“Ah.”
I didn’t like tense silences. I sat up to face him fully. “You don’t want me to?”
“The choice isn’t up to me,” he said, trying too hard to sound detached. “It’s up to you, and Neil. I won’t overstep my bounds.”
“You’re not overstepping anything,” I argued. “If you’re going to be our boyfriend, you’re going to be our boyfriend. You’re allowed to have an opinion, just like I’m allowed to ignore it.”
He sighed and spoke reluctantly. “I worry about you. The surgery. The risk. Not just because if something went wrong, if Neil lost you…” El-Mudad looked down at his hands, which lay helplessly open on his spread knees. “But because I couldn’t stand to lose you, either.”
My heart stuttered. “You won’t lose me. It’s a very common, very safe surgery.”
“So is gallbladder surgery. But that’s how my mother died,” he said quietly.
“I didn’t know.” That didn’t stop me from feeling guilty. Because even though it would bother him, I wasn’t going to change my mind. “How old were you?”
He waved a hand. “Twenty-four. I was an adult, not a small child.”
Why did we need permission to let our grief be important to us? It was something I still struggled with after Emma and Michael. My father’s death had reopened some of those wounds, especially since I wasn’t sure if I was even allowed to grieve him, when I should be angry enough to not care that he’d died.
“Losing a parent is still traumatizing,” I said, hope he knew that he could talk about it to me if he needed to. I had no idea how long that grief took to process. “But so would be losing a child. A teen daughter?”
Using his children as a weapon against him in the argument felt a little low, but like Neil, it gave him a reference point.
“I support any decision you make,” El-Mudad promised. “But I can support you without being happy that you’re putting yourself at risk.”
“You weren’t going to tell me that, though?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No. Because I’m afraid of crossing a line and ruining what we have. Do you remember that I told you that you were Neil’s north star?”
Goose bumps raised on my arms at the memory. At one of my lowest points, El-Mudad had been there to lift me up and reassure me. During that week, I’d trusted him almost more than I’d even trusted my best friend. He’d rescued me from depression and heartbreak and stayed by my side until I was whole, again.
He went on. “You’re both mine. I have guided so much of my life by a course I set the moment I fell in love with you. With both of you. Now, I feel as though I’m reaching a destination. I can’t take the chance that I won’t find my way to you.”
I rose on my knees and took his face in my hands. “You’ve already found your way to us. And we’re not going to lose you, either.”
His eyes searched mine. Then, he leaned in and kissed me. His cheeks were stubbly beneath my palms, against my face as his lips wandered down my jaw.
“Is Neil asleep?” El-Mudad whispered, his tongue tracing the curve of my ear.
“He is. Should we wake him up?” I wondered aloud.
“No. Let him sleep.” El-Mudad stood and slipped his arm beneath my legs to boost me up, to cradle me against his chest. “We’ll go to bed. If he wakes up, he’s welcome to join us.”
“Oh, my god, that’s so bad.” I giggled.
But I didn’t stop him.