It was also the day a doctor told me I
plication from the surgery where I gave my ot
ne. She was with Hudson Stewart, her college sweetheart, and
lars to disappear. He looked at me with contempt,
s not love. It's... gratitude. A responsibility."
. A text from Hudson: a picture of him and Eleanor
her for ten years, since I saved her life with my kidney.
leanor, her voice fake,
s voice, and a kiss.
flicker of hope I
pte
It was also the day a doctor told me I
failing. It was a complication from the surgery. The surgery where I ga
the passenger seat. I had given up my art, my passion, for
was with Hudson Stewart, a lobbyist whose family was as powerful as hers. He
. He kissed her, a possessive, claiming ki
l pain in my side was nothing c
to when I needed to think. He slid onto the stool next to me. He l
voice smooth. "Eleano
s the bar. It was for
pear. Leave her alone. It's
ething he'd scraped off his shoe. The humilia
f the doctor's words and the image of his kiss. The ye
y stunned silence. He interpreted
pping with condescending magnanimity. "But don't take too long.
r and slid it back into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. The
a 'no,'" he added, standing up and adjusting
ghost of a five-million-dollar offer
itical ambitions. I gave her my kidney when hers failed, tying my life to hers in the most permanent w
the shadows, as usual, while Eleanor shone in the spotlight. I wasn't feeling well, a
s before I saw them
Eleanor said. Her voice was straine
ars of a life he could never have dreamed of. You don't ow
ng silence. I
they hit me like a physical blow. "It's not love. It's... g
your image. A working-class artist. My God, what
ude. N
ar came rushing back. The past five years, I ha
Eleanor, in our bed. Her head was on his shoulder, and they w
e blurred. A single tear escaped and
t it
dys. I was Jefferson Byrd, a kid who grew u
d on a rainy street, her body wracked with pain from her failing kidneys. I took her to the
kidney. I ga
he held my hand and said she wanted t
d me to
nto love. I thought she saw me, Jeff
s a
sed up and discarded. My sacr
en now. I fumbled in my pocket for the bottle of painkillers the doctor had given me.
ang. It wa
, completely fake. "Don't go to bed yet. I have a surpri
so thick I c
A local news channel was on. There she was, on the
rfect, practiced smile on her face. "His unwavering support is th
a loved her. They saw a brilliant, c
erate urge. One last
oice hoarse. "Can you j
en, I heard it. A man's voice in the background, low and intimate. Hudson's
go, Jeff. S
hung
last, stupid flicker of
idney anymore. It was everything. The betrayal, the lies, the years
in my head. Renal failur
fingers shaking. I sent
ffer. I want the