Mystery Donor

Chapter 7: Killing Two Deer With One Bullet

Merely a month after arriving back home, Monica slowly but surely readjusted herself to her normal routine: working both cooking and serving shifts at her mother's street-corner restaurant, preparing to reenter college come next semester, and receiving her triweekly kidney dialysis treatments. By this time, the shared mood between she and Mary was rather melancholy; all those months of trying to find her sperm donor and save her own life, plagued with countless interruptions fueled by the lovesickness of a so-called friend.

And all of that crap for what? The whole adventure ended in a dead end because of her donor's passing overseas, and all that time away from home had effectively gone down the drain. She just couldn't help but feel beyond angry. Angry at herself for putting even a lick of trust in Balthazar. Mad at Balthazar for 86'ing her, putting her through all that shit, and having the gall to screw her over purely over the fact that she rejected him. And utterly pissed off at herself for not realizing that searching for her birth father during World War III might end in failure.

As Monica finished doing the dishes and helped her mother close up the restaurant for the night, she did so with little to no enthusiasm. She was numb to the fact that she was stuck with a failing kidney for eternity, and was highly unlikely to find someone else who could give one up to save her. It took a call from an unknown number directly to the restaurant's phone line to snap both she and her mother out of their negative trance.

"Sorry, we're closed," Mary said as soon as she picked up the receiver. "...Wait, what? ...Mm-hmm... oh wow, that's good to hear! I'm sure my daughter will be thrilled!"

"Be thrilled about what?" Monica deadpanned as she approached the bar.

"Some woman named Roxanne Romano called and said her husband turned out to be okay. Turns out he wasn't dead, but rather in a coma," Mary explained. "But he's safe at home now, and he's interested in meeting you."

"Wow, really?" Monica's eyes instantaneously lit up. "Well then there's no time to waste!"

Mary watched as her daughter zipped upstairs, listening to the noises emanating from her bedroom as she hurriedly packed her backpack again.

"I'm glad to see you're excited, but what about your treatments?" she called after her.

"Aw, Mom! It'll only take a day! I'll be fine!" Monica responded as she rushed downstairs. "If I hurry, I can get a nighttime ticket and get there by morning! Love you, bye!"

Mary said nothing as she left, but she couldn't help but put on a smile as things began to look up for their small family.

Just as she assumed, Monica managed to arrive all the way back in Manhattan shortly after the sun had come all the way up. There were no demons to get in her way, the war was over, and Trevor was confirmed to be alive after all. She couldn't help but wonder how the war had affected him, if at all. Maybe all that military training had made him so alert that it would be ideal to let him rouse himself every morning. Maybe he possessed some major scars that would make him creepy to look at, or maybe he didn't come back with all his body-parts intact. Regardless, one thing was certain: this Trevor guy had donated his sperm in order to give her life, and now he was about to donate a kidney in order to save her life.

It didn't take long for Roxanne to answer the door after it was knocked on, and Monica couldn't help but notice how much more spirited and uplifted she appeared to be. No doubt it was because she'd gotten her husband back after he was presumed dead not too long ago.

"Good to see you again. Please come in," Roxanne greeted. "Trevor, there's someone here who would like to see you."

The first thing Monica noticed upon entering the condo was a lanky man on the couch with thick glasses, hazel eyes, and curly brown hair that stopped at his ears. Contrary to her suspicions, he was completely scar free and all of his parts appeared to be present and accounted for, save for his left eye, with the socket occupied by a glass replica. She could tell because when he turned in her direction, he looked rather wall-eyed. Monica secretly sighed in relief, glad to know that she'd be able to maintain eye contact during the undoubtedly difficult conversation.