Because of You

Arthur Flannigan is fifty-nine years old and perpetually grumpy. He is currently sitting in the back pew of a church he hasn’t visited in a year, listening to a pastor talk about a God he doesn’t believe in.  

It started when his wife died, exactly one year ago today. Even if it wasn’t a holiday, an easy date to remember, Arthur would never forget the day he lost his best friend, maybe his only friend in the world. He finds it ironic that today is called Independence Day, a day to celebrate freedom, when the death of his wife tethered him to a promise he never intended to make. And now he’s trapped in this stifling hot church because Eva wanted him to keep God in his life, and he had been avoiding it for as long as possible. 

It’s the end of the service, finally, and Arthur is preparing to leave. But the pastor asks them to sit for a couple of announcements, and Arthur groans out loud, drawing dirty looks from several people around him. He sits stiffly, rubbing his arthritic knees, while the pastor talks about a carnival that will raise money to fix the church’s sagging roof. Then the pastor invites a woman up to the podium at the front of the church. She is short and thin with straight dark hair; she puts on a pair of reading glasses before taking a piece of paper from her pocket. She looks up, clears her throat, and begins to speak in a shaky voice. 

The woman tells a story about a little girl born with a kidney condition, and how that girl is now six years old and in need of a donor. It turns out that the girl is this woman’s daughter, and she chokes back tears as she finishes her plea for anyone who might have a matching blood type to consider giving her daughter the gift of life. Unexpectedly, Arthur finds that the story has moved him to tears as well. He hastily wipes them from his cheeks and crosses his arms tightly across his chest. When the woman says her daughter’s blood type is AB negative, the rarest in the world, Arthur gasps audibly. The same people who gave him dirty looks a few minutes ago now turn to him in surprise. The woman is finishing her speech now, folding up her paper and slipping her glasses into her pocket as the congregation claps in support. Arthur stands and slips out of the pew as the final song begins, and leaves the church on shaky legs.

His heart is pounding as he walks the five blocks to the small Cape Cod style house where he and his wife had lived together for thirty years. What are the odds that he has the exact same blood type as this little girl? This stranger, he reminds himself. He would be nuts to even consider giving her his kidney. He unlocks his front door and enters the house, moving straight through the front hall to the spotless kitchen. He has already washed out his cereal bowl and coffee mug from this morning, and they are still in the drying rack by the sink. He grabs the mug, reaches into the cabinet above the refrigerator, and even though it is not even 11am on a Sunday morning, he sloshes a generous amount of whiskey into his wife’s favorite chipped cup. He drinks it slowly; it burns his throat. When the mug is empty, he takes a deep breath and for the first time in a year, he speaks to his wife.

“Eva, are you doing this?” he murmurs, looking up towards the ceiling. “Did you send me to church this morning and then tell that woman to make an announcement to the entire congregation when it was so clearly directed only to me?” Arthur stands abruptly, pain shooting through his knees as he paces around the kitchen. He sighs. “Her name is Alice. She’s six years old and she’s on the donor list but her mother said she needs one now. She could die, Eva. This tiny little girl. Before she even has a chance to live.” Arthur thinks about how long they had tried for kids. Eva had finally stopped the fertility treatments after years, long after Arthur had been ready to give up, and they decided to grow old together just the two of them. “That was the deal, Eva,” Arthur says now, glancing up again. “We agreed it would just be us, but then you left me. I don’t need anyone else, certainly not a little girl I don’t know and probably her whole family who would all want to be involved too. I can’t, Eva. I don’t know what your plan is, but I just can’t.”

Having made his decision, Arthur goes to bed that night with a clear conscience. But his dreams are filled with death and despair, and something - or someone - he is chasing but can’t quite reach. He wakes up feeling groggy and disoriented, and consumed by thoughts of Alice. 

He drags himself out of bed and calls in sick to his job at the accounting firm where he has been working for twenty years. Then he opens up his laptop. Two hours later he has the email address for Alice’s mother and entirely too much information about the kidney donation process. Before he can change his mind, he sends an email to Alice’s mother saying he has a potential donor in mind. He had included his email signature without thinking, and within minutes his phone rings. Alice’s mother is breathless with excitement as she invites him for coffee that very afternoon. Failing to think of an excuse, Arthur agrees. 

“I’m just so glad you reached out,” Alice’s mother says with a wide smile as soon as she opens the front door of the white brick, two story house a few hours later. She ushers him inside and gestures to a couch in the living room. As he makes himself comfortable, he looks around at the cozy surroundings: fresh flowers on an end table, family pictures scattering the walls, a princess dollhouse in one corner, a small desk with a lamp in another. He can see from the pictures that Alice favors her mother with the same straight brown hair and dark eyes, and that she has an older brother who is somewhere between a small child and a teenager. Arthur never can guess at the ages of children. 

“Who are you?” Arthur turns to see this very brother standing in the doorway that leads from the living room to the kitchen, his arms crossed over his scrawny chest. 

“My name is Arthur. I’m, uh, here to talk to your mom.” 

Before the not-quite-teenager can reply, Alice’s mother appears and shoos him out of the way.

“That’s my son Owen. He’s eleven.” She smiles and hands him a steaming mug of coffee, then puts creamer and sugar on the coffee table in front of him. She settles herself in a chair next to the couch.

“So, tell me about this potential donor,” she says, and Arthur appreciates her straightforward approach. He has never been good at small talk either.

Suddenly he feels nervous and vulnerable. “Well actually, it’s me.” He clears his throat and forces himself to look up at her. She is surprised, but recovers quickly. “And you have - your blood type, it’s AB negative?”

He nods. Tears spring to her eyes so fast, Arthur has no time to prepare himself. Fortunately he is spared from having to comfort her by the appearance of the subject of their conversation. Alice tucks a strand of her straight brown hair, just a shade lighter than her mother’s, behind her ear. She has dark eyes framed by long dark lashes. She is wearing an elaborate princess dress, probably a costume, Arthur hopes, and staring at him with serious eyes. 

“Alice,” her mother says, jumping up from her chair. “Come meet Arthur. He’s a - friend of ours.” 

Alice walks up to the couch and sticks out her hand. Arthur is amused as he shakes her hand, and finds she has a firm grip. 

“We’re having pot roast for dinner,” she informs him, then tips her chin up as if issuing a challenge. 

“Oh yes, you must stay for dinner!” Alice’s mother says, clapping her hands together. She bustles into the kitchen without waiting for Arthur to reply. 

He glances at Alice and finds her staring at him again. It unnerves him; he feels like she is looking into his soul. “Do you want to - color a picture?” he asks lamely. 

She leaves the room without a word and he wonders if he has somehow offended her. Do six-year-olds not color? he wonders. Maybe they only paint?

She returns a minute later with a book and sits next to him on the couch. He reaches for it, but she shakes her head, then opens it to the first page. She begins to read, slowly. She has to sound out a few words, but her voice is clear and her reading is fluid. Arthur is astounded. He does not know when children learn to read, but he is quite sure he couldn’t read a book of this level until he was in second or third grade. Once she finishes the story and looks up at him, Arthur smiles.

“Where did you learn to read?” he asks. She frowns slightly, and now he knows he has offended her. 

“I’m not a baby,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’ve already finished kindergarten.”

Alice’s father gets home just before dinner is served, and another round of introductions is made. Owen has to be called to the table twice before he finally skulks in, and his father makes him take out his earbuds before they all bow their heads to pray.

“And God bless Arthur for reaching out to us, and giving us hope. Amen.” Alice’s mother is sitting in between her husband and Arthur, and she squeezes both their hands before getting up to serve the food. 

“You know, I’ve been making that announcement at church every week for months. Everyone has been so supportive, of course, but not one person knew of a potential donor. We are just so thankful you were there yesterday, and heard our message.” Alice’s mother touches Arthur’s shoulder as she fills his plate with pot roast and veggies. 

“I think you have my wife to thank for that,” Arthur chuckles, then realizes he said that out loud.

“Oh, you should have invited her to dinner too!” Alice’s mother beams. Arthur can feel his cheeks heating up.

“Sorry, that was actually more of a joke. My wife passed away a year ago. A year ago yesterday, in fact. I only meant that it felt like she was sending me a sign.”

Alice’s mother looks embarrassed as well, but Arthur can also see the pity in her face. “Goodness, I’m terribly sorry.” She turns back towards the stove just as Arthur feels a single tear forming. “I’m sure she was a wonderful woman!” Alice’s mother is saying, as Arthur feels a small hand on his cheek. Alice catches the tear with her finger as it spills from his eye, and holds it up. She gives him a small, secret smile before turning back to her plate. 

Arthur goes in for the medical test the next week. Despite constantly being on the verge of backing out, he continues on in the donation process, and the doctors are hopeful that his kidney will be a match for Alice. He begins to make it a habit to stop by her house on his way home from work with a book from his wife’s extensive collection, and they spend hours reading together. Sometimes she has an appointment at the hospital, and he visits her there instead. He tries to bring a small treat or toy for the brother Owen too, but he can never get it quite right. Once he brought a skateboard, but Owen rolled his eyes and said he wasn’t interested. Another time he brought a real lizard but the parents made him take it back. Finally he started giving Owen cash, and that seemed to be just right.

The day of his procedure, Arthur is nervous. He can’t even imagine how Alice feels. The extraction is quick, and after a short stay in the hospital, Arthur is released. The day of the transplant, Arthur sits in the waiting room with Alice’s family. Alice’s mother tells all the doctors and nurses that Arthur is a dear friend of the family, who is also the donor. It makes him feel unexpectedly emotional. Losing his kidney must have messed with his personality, he thinks, or at least his logical, practical sense.

They wait for hours, which they know is normal. When the doctor finally enters the waiting room, she is smiling and they all breathe a sigh of relief. The doctor explains that the transplant went well, but they need to monitor Alice during the next crucial hours and days. 

When they are finally allowed into Alice’s room, Arthur hovers in the doorway, unsure. Alice’s mother and father are on either side of her bed, each holding one of her hands, smiling through tears. Her brother Owen steps forward too, patting Alice’s arm a little awkwardly, but with relief in his eyes. Arthur had wanted to see Alice, to make sure she was okay, but now he begins to feel that he is intruding on an intimate family moment. But just before he turns to go, Alice’s mother leans down to listen to something Alice whispers in her ear. She smiles, squeezes Alice’s hand, and beckons to Arthur. He is still uncertain, and even takes another step towards the door, but Alice’s mother calls out to him and waves him over to Alice’s bed again.

When he looks down at her small, pale face in the big hospital bed, Arthur feels his heart constrict. Alice does her best to smile, and says in a small voice Arthur has to strain to hear, “thank you for the kidney. You saved my life.” Arthur doesn’t have the words to tell her that he is the one who is thankful.

The years pass, as years do. Alice is released from the hospital, and Arthur is invited to a princess tea party to celebrate her seventh birthday. Alice finishes first grade, then second and third, and still visits Arthur with her mother or father every few months. As she gets older, the visits are fewer and farther between, and Arthur begins to look forward to them even more as he also continues to grow older. Every year on the transplant date, Alice sends Arthur a thank you card. Every year on the fourth of July, when Arthur is missing his wife the most, he sends Alice one of Eva’s books. Each year, Alice’s family invites Arthur to Thanksgiving dinner. Each year, Arthur sends a Christmas card to Alice’s family. Arthur attends Alice’s high school graduation, and the same year Alice’s family throws Arthur a party for his seventieth birthday. Alice is accepted to a college far away from her home, and Arthur worries he may never see her again. 

Fifteen years after the transplant, Alice turns twenty-one. Instead of having a big party to celebrate being an adult and having the legal right to drink alcohol, Alice takes a semester off from college while she goes to appointment after appointment with her doctor to discuss the fact that her donated kidney is starting to show signs of failing. Arthur learns this from Alice’s mother over tea one afternoon.

Arthur is seventy-four years old. He has one kidney left, and he knows that if it were in his power to give that one to Alice too, he would do it. He discusses this with his wife over breakfast the morning after his conversation with Alice’s mother. He has been speaking to Eva more and more over the years, and he still knows exactly how she would respond. 

It’s Alice’s mother who finds him. He had given her a key to his house the previous summer, so she could water his plants while he was visiting a friend for a few days. She had tried calling but he wasn’t picking up, and she got worried. She assumed he was just sleeping when she found him in his bed, but then she noticed the mostly empty bottle of arthritis medication on his nightstand. She knew his mind had slipped a little lately, he had been talking to his long-dead wife when he thought no one could hear him, and assumed he had accidentally taken too many pills. 

Arthur’s lawyer contacts Alice the next day, and tells her that he needs to see her in his office right away. She brings her mother, for support. The first thing he tells them is that Arthur’s only wish was to donate his remaining kidney to Alice. The second thing he tells them is that Arthur didn’t have any family, so he had left his entire life savings, a small fortune, to their family.  They sit in silent shock for a full ten seconds, then they both promptly burst into tears.