“Focal segmental glomerulosclerosis.”
Donovan spouts off the words like they mean something to me. It’s another string of hospital gibberish. Words that sound like a life sentence and feel like weights on my heart.
We’re in a glass room, separated from the waiting room, which I guess is designed to give loved ones a little privacy while receiving hard news. I don’t feel safe, though. I feel like a goldfish on display.
“What does it mean?” I ask.
At least Donovan’s eyes are kind, familiar, and they never leave me. He sits calmly in the chair across from me, and I hug my arms around my chest.
He translates. “It’s a rare disease that causes benign cysts to build up in the kidneys and prevents them from working properly.”
“So his brain…?”
“Completely normal. The seizures came from the toxic buildup that occurred when the cysts overpowered his kidney function, not from any damage to his brain.”
Hospitals, I find, are like intricate games of Whack-A-Mole. As soon as one problem goes away, another one pops up.
Donovan is incredibly calm and level as he delivers the news. I try to match his energy, but I feel like I have pins stuck in my throat.
The next question I ask is selfish. “What causes it?”
There’s a small, quiet part of me that is constantly terrified that I’ve done this to Otto.
Donovan’s brown eyes are gentle. “It’s inherited. The reason it’s so rare is that both sets of parents have to have a recessive abnormal gene.”
I blink. “Do I have it, too?”
“Not exactly. You could go your whole life without knowing you have a recessive gene. To you, it’s normal, and your body functions as it should. It’s just when your genes come in contact with a similar carrier that you have a perfect storm.”
I let the information sit with me. “If only one of us had the gene…”
“It’s hard to say,” Donovan reasons. “Otto might’ve shown similar signs, but the chances are slimmer.”
“So what you’re saying is…really bad things happen when Jason and I procreate?”
“And really good things,” Donovan reminds me.
The news has me off-kilter. I feel myself sway briefly in my chair, and I grip the armrests for something to ground myself. “What comes now?”
“There is no treatment,” Donovan says, “but with medication, we can manage the damage to his kidneys. In Otto’s case, I’d want to get him on the transplant list immediately.”
“I’ll donate,” I say quickly.
“We’ll test you,” Donovan says. “But there’s no guarantee you’re a match. Finding the right match…it can take years. In the meantime, we should start looking at getting him dialysis a couple times a week.”
I’m underwater. My brain is swimming. “Please give me good news.”
Donovan reaches out and takes my hand. He squeezes it. “He’s young. He’s strong. He’s got the best team of doctors on his case. Now that we know what it is, we can properly treat it instead of throwing darts at the wall and hoping something sticks. I know it’s scary to hear…but this is a step in the right direction for him.”
His words should be reassuring. But my skin feels numb. My face feels hot. And my insides are screaming.
It’s me and Otto. Against the world.
I pull my hand out of his and tuck it into my lap, folding into myself. Donovan is warm and gentle right now, but his closeness feels like an acid burn on my skin. “I need to see my son.”
Donovan nods, understanding. He doesn’t try to touch me again. “Let’s go.”
Jason is sitting outside Otto’s room. Loyal watchdog, guarding.
When he sees us approach, he stands immediately. He has concern etched all over his face. “How is he?” he asks.
I know what he’s trying to do—he’s worried. He cares. But he’s in the wrong place at the wrong time. The anger inside of me is whip hot and wants to lash out at someone, and right now, Jason is the perfect target.
“How is he?” I repeat. “You mean, now that he’s not lost on a strange island in the middle of winter?”
He cringes. “I know. I’m sorry. I turned my back for one minute. It won’t happen again.”
“No. It won’t.” Jason is a full foot taller than me, but I find myself going toe-to-toe with him, all blazing fury. “I don’t care if it was one minute or one second. It just proves what I knew all along—every time I start to trust you, you do something so goddamn thoughtless or inconsiderate. You haven’t changed at all.”
“Kenzi.” Donovan says my name as a gentle chastisement.
But Jason shakes his head. “It’s okay.” His mouth draws into a thin line. “You’re angry. You have every right to be. But you know I wouldn’t let anything happen to Otto.”
What I know doesn’t matter. My feelings are in full force right now. The backs of my eyes are stinging, but I will not cry in front of him.
I can’t get the thought out of my head:
If I had been with anyone—anyone—else, Otto might be healthy right now.
The perfect storm. That’s what Jason and I are. That’s what we’ll always be.
“I don’t want you anywhere near me or Otto,” I tell him, my voice trembling. “Do you understand?”
Jason doesn’t say anything to that. The blue eyes—they just look hurt. And confused.
And they look so much like Otto’s that I want to scream.
“Stay away from us,” I tell him and go into the hospital room to be with my son.
