The sound of knocking broke Ariana’s concentration. Not that her mind had really been on the functionality of the pancreas—she’d been halfway dozing. She frowned; she wasn’t expecting company. She had chip bags and other junk strewn across the coffee table, so she hoped it wasn’t her mother deciding to just stop by in the hopes of embarrassing her. She peeked through the hole and blinked to be sure she wasn’t seeing things. She flung the door open. “What’s wrong, Sal?”
He gave her a half-hearted smile. “Hello to you, too. Can I come in?”
She moved aside. “Excuse the mess. I’ve been attempting to study, and it’s not going well.” She brushed several pieces of trash off the kitchen counter straight into the garbage. Nauseous again, she asked, “Why are you here, Sal? Is the news that bad?”
He turned away. “It’s not really good, Ariana.”
She braced her hands on the counter in front of her and leaned on them. “Whatever it is, just tell me. I’d rather just know.”
“Sit down.” Sal’s voice was authoritative, and Ariana automatically did as he said. When he turned around, his face was lined, and it made him look old. “The amyloidosis is affecting multiple organs, but the liver is the worst because it was already compromised by cirrhosis. They could probably clear his lungs and kidneys with chemo, but the chemo would probably kill him because of his liver.”
Ariana stared at him, stunned. “Isn’t there anything else that can be done?” She’d read a little about the disease when she first got home. “What about a transplant? I read that, in advanced stages, they’ll perform a transplant.”
Sal dropped into one of her rickety kitchen chairs. “Yeah, sometimes they can. But your father…” He trailed off.
Ariana nodded, her hopes shattering. “He’s not eligible because of the drinking.”
“Right.” Sal sounded as disappointed as Ariana felt. “Look, I’m sorry, Ariana. I wish there was more I could do. But I don’t have the kind of pull or friends in high enough places to swing it. I wish I did.”
“No, you’ve done everything you could, more than I expected. Thank you, Sal.” She hesitated. “What if someone in the family was a match? Could they use a piece of one of our livers?”
He studied his hands. “Your, uh, your mother and your sister refuse to be tested.” He held up a hand, knowing she was about to blow a gasket. “It probably wouldn’t work anyway. It likely wouldn’t grow fast enough to make him a candidate for chemo, and there’s no guarantee the transplant wouldn’t fail. Or that the disease wouldn’t just spread to the new organ.”
Ariana leapt to her feet. “It doesn’t matter. It’s a chance. It could work. Right now, he’s just going to die.” She paced the floor and tugged at her hair. “I’ll get tested, see if I’m a match.”
“Ariana, stop.” Sal’s voice halted her, and she stared at him expectantly. He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Look—I’ve got to go. My wife’s bringing dinner home, and her and my son will be there within the hour. But you don’t need to put yourself through that. Your father doesn’t want the transplant anyway.”
“What do you mean, he doesn’t want it?”
“He told the doc he wouldn’t accept a donation.” Sal stood and came to stand in front of her. “He’s an angry old man who drinks too much and feels he has nothing left to live for. He’s full of guilt, and he thinks he deserves to die. My grandfather was the same way, and he just let the cancer take him.” He put his arms around Ariana and drew her head to his shoulder. She didn’t hug him back, but she didn’t pull away either, her body cold and his so warm. “The only thing I’ll say is don’t leave things between you unsaid. You’ll regret it. You need to go talk to your father, even if you have to throw the rest of your family out of the room.”
He was right, but Ariana wasn’t ready for that. “I’ll go. Not today, though.”
He held her by the shoulders at arm’s length, locking eye with her. “Don’t wait too long, okay? He’s not going to fight it.”
Ariana nodded. She walked him to the door and let him out, and she locked it before she went to her bedroom and lay down to cry. There was only one comfort for her right now, and she could pretty much guarantee she wouldn’t be able to reach Vince. Still, she stretched her arm out and took her phone from the bedside table.
She sniffled and frowned when she saw a missed call and listened to his message. Dammit! He’d called about an hour and a half ago. She dialed him back in a hurry. When she got his voicemail, she just hung up and cried harder.
Angry at Vince, at herself, and mostly, at life, she screamed and threw her phone against the wall. She watched pieces hit the ground without caring. She was tired of being alone, and she knew she was wallowing in self-pity, but she didn’t care. She just wanted someone to comfort her. Even if he was a stranger, Vince did that—with his touch, and the way he looked at her when she touched him.
But it didn’t matter. Ariana wasn’t the top priority in Vince’s life, and she never would be. The Iron Claws would always be his main focus, and that didn’t leave much room for her. Of course, she didn’t want to be his ‘old lady’, but she wanted to feel special; she didn’t want to take a backseat to a group of men who would likely end up dead or in prison.
It figured. She’d never been at the top of anyone’s list, and she didn’t expect to be. All she could do was hope that, somewhere along the way, while Vince was out doing whatever it was he did with his brothers on the road, he might at least think to call her back.