Chris was in the room. He looked like a man who had been very frightened and was still recovering.
A nurse told me I had lost a dangerous amount of blood.
I closed my eyes. I tried to say something but couldn't. Only one word came out, like a prayer:
Susan.
“She’s in the hallway right now,” Chris said softly. “She’s been sitting there for two hours. She saved your life. She’s the donor.”
Susan was sitting on a plastic chair in the hallway outside my room, and I thought back to everything she’d told me these past few days.
She was holding onto it the way you hold onto something painful. Not walking away, just letting it be.
Susan stared at my bedroom door for a long time. Our eyes met briefly before exhaustion pulled me back into darkness.
I woke up the second time to a different light. Softer, later in the day.
Susan was sitting in the chair next to my bed.
