Coming Through by Al James by Kidney Research UK

‘Coming Through’ by Al James A short story donated to support the work of Kidney Research UK

COMING THROUGH ‘There are stages of grief,’ the counsellor had said to Annie. Maybe there were, but that had felt like psychobabble when Jamie’s loss took over every part of her existence. Especially when she’d said the last stage was ‘acceptance’. How could you ever accept your son had been killed in a car accident? But things had changed. She was shocked to discover she couldn’t remember quite how many days it was since Jamie’s accident. It had seemed so important to know. How disloyal was it to forget? Maybe she needed to mark the calendar like she had last year. There were moments now, even hours when she didn’t think of him. Afterwards with a sharp stab of pain, the vast sense of loss overwhelmed her. It was then the tears still came. She might seem alright with friends, but inside the howling torrent of grief was there ready to take her over. There were still times when she blamed Jack for persuading her to let them take his organs. But other times when knowing part of him lived on inside someone else felt comforting. The letter from the young teacher she’d nearly ripped up when it arrived; that was saved carefully inside the book of memories Jack had made. She knew for certain one of Jamie’s kidneys was still alive. It was seriously weird as Jamie might have said, but now she felt sure he would have approved. Between ‘getting on with life’ and being overcome with grief, there were times when she wondered what the girl was doing now. ‘Getting on with life’ she supposed. How many different meanings that quaint English phrase could have! Annie even allowed herself a wry smile when that strange thought came to her. Jack was more curious that she was. “Wonder what she’s doing now?” he said on more than one occasion. “Mmm.” “Don’t you ever wonder?” “No not really, it doesn’t seem important.” She knew it wasn’t true almost as soon as she said it. A kind of defence she supposed. Holding back from the feelings. The crying had gone internal; it felt safer there. * “Miss.” “Yes Tyler?” “Miss, you like Mr Williams don’t you.” Emily could feel the warmth in her face. Blushing, and in the classroom. Instinctively she put one hand up to her cheek. “Yes, Tyler, he’s a good teacher. Did you like having him when I was away?” 2

“When you had the kidney plant.” She held back the smile. “A transplant, yes Tyler, I did.” “He’s nice. . . .” Tyler lifted her pencil thoughtfully, “but I’m glad you’re back Miss.” “Thankyou Tyler, I’m glad to be back too.” The girl next to Tyler looked up and smiled, and for some reason both of them giggled together as if there was some secret they were sharing. The nice Mr Williams was still in the school and covering Siobhan’s maternity leave in Year 6, and he’d asked her for a date! She felt herself colouring up again. It was five years since she’d allowed herself to think about men in that way; years when she’d spent every other evening driving fifteen miles after school to the hospital. The thought of it made her shudder. The scars on her left arm were still there, but now she had the new freedom of the kidney plant! Rachel was at the classroom door. “Everything OK?” “Mmm, why shouldn’t it be?” “Tonight isn’t it?” “What?” “Mark of course. Hope it goes well.” With a grin and pointing back into the classroom where two children wanted attention, Rachel walked off. With a determined effort Emily put Mark and the date firmly out of her mind and went back inside to get on with teaching. For a couple of weeks he seemed to have found an excuse to visit her classroom after school. Simple questions at first; questions about pencils and exercise books she was sure he had to know the answer to. Then he’d wanted to know about her transplant. “I hope I’m not being intrusive,” he’d said. That wasn’t how it had felt. Maybe there was an ulterior motive but it didn’t feel like he was prying. In fact she was beginning to enjoy talking to him. “And you, nice girlfriend somewhere, I suppose?” That was prying, she knew it as soon as she said it, but he was quick to answer. “Not now. We split a couple of months ago.” “I’m sorry,” she said. Something far from sorrow leapt inside her. “Don’t be. She went off with another guy. It wasn’t working out anyway.” “So that means we’re both single,” she said. “No boyfriend then?” “Nobody would have wanted me on dialysis. It wouldn’t have worked out.” 3

“But now . . .?” His eyes seemed to grow bigger with the question. “Different. Like freedom.” For a moment he hadn’t replied. Have I said too much she wondered? Then . . . “Do you like Italian food?” he said. “Mmm, I do, but the tomatoes . . . .” She stopped. Not any more. The dialysis restrictions and other tiresome restraints, they were all gone. “You’re smiling,” he said, looking mystified. “I was going to say I couldn’t eat tomatoes, too much potassium, but it’s not a problem now.” “So Italian food is OK?” It still looked like he didn’t understand. She nodded. “Cool. I was wondering. Salvatore’s, in town. What if we had a meal together there?” “Could do, yes.” “No talk about Key Stage 2, or school.” A laugh and a shake of her head served as acceptance. Agreeing had been easy. The nerves and anxiety afterwards certainly weren’t. He was already waiting when she arrived at the restaurant. “You look good,” he said. “Thankyou. Just a simple dress.” She didn’t say it had taken ages to decide what to wear. “Shall we go in? I’ve booked a table.” She nodded and followed him through the door to be greeted by the fawning Italian waiter. * Annie woke in the middle of the night conscious she’d been dreaming. Her body felt hot, but not like a menopausal sweat. They were different. She sat up and tried to remember what it was, but the dream wouldn’t return. Beside her Jack was snoring quietly. He could sleep through an armed robbery. Uncomfortable now, the obvious solution was to go downstairs and make a drink, so she put her dressing gown on and made her way downstairs. She switched on the kettle and walked across to the dining table. The enlarged photo of Jamie smiled down at her and a fragment of the dream came back. There was a ceremony of some sort and Jamie was at the centre of it with some girl. Nothing else. She had the impression that in her dream she’d been happy but something was going to go wrong. “What was that about, Jamie?” she said to the photo, but nothing came back.

Sometimes she was sure he spoke to her. Not out loud, but inside her head. Like when she’d got the letter from the girl who’d had one of his kidneys. Nobody would ever convince her he hadn’t told her to open it, not even Jack. It wasn’t imagination, his voice was just too real. The kettle had boiled so she walked across to make some tea and returned with it to the table. Suddenly Jack was in the room with her. “You alright?” His hair was all over the place and he looked half asleep. “Didn’t think you’d wake.” “What’s up?” “Vivid dream woke me. Want some tea?” Without waiting for an answer she walked back to the kettle and made him one. “Bad one?” “Bad what?” “Dream. What woke you up.” “Don’t really know. Yes and no really.” “Jamie in it?” She nodded and took a sip from the tea. “Thought so. Want to tell me about it?” “Can’t remember much of it.” “Is that no?” “Drink your tea. We need to get back to bed.” His half smile told her he understood enough not to say anything else. Half way up the stairs she suddenly knew what was going to happen in the dream. As Jamie stood there with the girl, an out of control car was heading straight for him. She’d tried to cry out and woken with the effort. “Alright now?” he said, putting his arm round her when they were back in bed. She didn’t answer; just lay still and soon his breathing became steady and he was asleep once more. Tears rolled out of her eyes, but she didn’t wipe them. * “Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?” Her mother didn’t trust what she called ‘whirlwind romances’. “How long have you known him then?” “A few months,” she said trying to make it sound longer. But the sniff told her she wasn’t convinced. “You’ve not had a boyfriend all this time, and now you’re planning to spend your life together. Can’t you wait?” 5

“You’ll like him when you meet him, mum, really you will.” “Well that hasn’t happened yet, has it.” “It will. You’ve got to give me time.” “Well exactly. You’re not giving yourself time.” Experience told her there was no point in trying to persuade her logically. And it wasn’t as if logic came into it. Deep inside her, it just felt right, and sometimes you just had to trust yourself. The idea of another letter to the family was in her mind again. The hospital didn’t approve of more than the one letter she’d already sent, but surely they would be pleased to know she was getting married. “You can’t know that Emily,” the consultant said, “grief can affect people in unusual ways.” “I see.” It felt disappointing. “I suppose we could ask if they mind another letter.” “Could you?” “We’ll see what we can do.” He smiled professionally and stood up. It was the cue telling her the interview was over. Everything was going well; there was no sign of rejection. “And congratulations, by the way,” he said as she went out of the door. “Thankyou!” “What did he say?” Mark asked her that evening. “He’s going to look into it.” “Is that good?” “Hard to tell. We’ll have to see.” Nelson stared at her inscrutably. Since Mark had moved in with her, he’d been cautious. “I think he’s jealous of me.” “He’s just a cat. That’s what they’re like.” It seemed incredible to her that things had moved on so fast. They’d only known each other three months and already they were living together. Somehow she hadn’t told her mum that. It would only have made her worse. And next month they were marrying. “Is this too quick?” she asked Rachel. “My mum doesn’t trust what she calls whirlwind romances.” “Of course not. It’s obvious you’re made for each other.” “Really?” “And after what you’ve been through. Seize the moment as the Romans used to say.” “Making up for lost time, you mean?” 6

“It’s what you need. Anyway, we’re all coming to the wedding.” She didn’t really have any doubts; but the reassurance helped. * “Shall I get it?” He nearly always answered the telephone now. The question was unnecessary really and he didn’t wait for Annie’s response. “Mr Andrews? I’m ringing from the Transplant Team.” The polite questions that followed seemed to be leading somewhere. “I believe one of the recipients wrote to you some while back?” “Yes, she did, is there a problem?” “No, not at all. She wants to write to you again.” “The girl with one of Jamie’s kidneys? “Yes. It’s quite unusual, a second letter that is. You can say no . . .” His brain raced. Ask Annie? Not cold, not now. But saying no didn’t feel right. The woman’s voice spoke into the pause. “It would have to be a one off . . . and it’s not a problem if you refuse.” Jack knew he couldn’t refuse. “No, it’s alright. Address the letter to me.” “Just to you?” “It’s easier that way.” When he went back into the living room he was going to say it was a work call, but she didn’t ask. A relief really. He sat back in his chair with the newspaper but nothing held his attention. Why did she want to write again? Had something happened? He would be waiting anxiously for the letter now. It felt wrong keeping it from Annie. Not quite deceitful but not completely open, but there didn’t seem to be an alternative. The next problem might be deciding whether to share the letter. Outside it was still light. He could see the white blossom on the apple tree. Nearly a year now. He knew the anniversary was going to be difficult for both of them. Should they do something? It was hardly a celebration, and then the strange thought came to him. For the girl and all the others who’d had a part of Jamie it would be a celebration. Would they be thinking of him on the day too? He glanced up at the photograph on the wall. He knew Annie spoke to it when he wasn’t around. For the first time he felt as if he could do the same thing. ‘What would you think about that?’ he said inside his head, but he knew the answer without asking. He’d think it was ‘cool’.

He looked up, conscious Annie was staring at him. “I talk to him too you know.” “Yes, I know you do.” he said, ignoring the suggestion that he might as well. “It helps. We’re not mad. Lots of people do it.” “How do you know that?” “I’ve been reading about it.” Reading about it? He hadn’t expected that. She’d just seemed lost in it all. “It would help if you did too.” “Did what?” “Tried to understand what’s happening to us.” “What is there to understand?” “Loss. What it’s done to us. We’ll never get over it, but we can come to terms with it . . . with what happened to Jamie.” As he looked at her it was like something new was unfolding. Maybe she didn’t need so much protecting after all. Sudden shouting from the television made them both look round at it. “What is that?” he said. “You know I like East Enders.” “Mmm.” “Who was that on the phone just now?” He didn’t answer straightaway. Then, impulsively, “The hospital,” he said. “Anything wrong?” “Wanted to know if we minded another letter.” “Letter?” “From that girl; the one who had Jamie’s kidney.” “What did you say?” “I told them it was OK.” * Two weeks before the wedding the Transplant Team told her the donor’s parents had agreed to another letter. “Do you still want to write one?” “I do,” she said. The words slipped out and made her smile to herself. Now she had to say the right thing. “Keep it simple,” Mark said, “No details.” “Should I tell them we’re getting married?” “It’s what you want to write a letter for, isn’t it?” Of course it was. No point otherwise. She went through to the computer and began typing.

It would help if she knew who she was writing to. Last time she guessed it was parents, so she imagined that again. ‘I thought you’d be pleased to know . . .’ she began, before remembering the team had said it wasn’t an assumption that could be made. She started again. ‘I’m sure you will remember I wrote to you before.’ Of course they would. How could they not? But it felt like a safe start. ‘I am so grateful to you for agreeing to the organ donation. It’s changed my life.’ That felt better. Now she had to find a way of saying the important part. ‘I’m writing again to tell you my news. Thanks to you I’ve been able to find a partner and we’re getting married soon. So thankyou for everything.’ She looked on the screen at what she’d written for a moment. It seemed alright. Mark came in. “Is this OK?” He read it through, taking his time. “You don’t have to mark it!” “Cool,” he said. “But why don’t you change the sentences round?” “How do you mean?” “Tell them the news before the grateful bit. Better that way round.” “Mmm,” she said, and looked again. He was probably right. “Typical teacher!” She said, slapping him playfully on the hand. His look told her she’d started something as he responded and reached over to kiss her. “Is it too early?” he said. His eyes were demanding her attention. “Too early for what?” “You know . . . tease . . .” “Well just let me make the changes you’ve suggested and we’ll see.” “You sound like my mother!” Ignoring him, she turned and moved the text around as he’d suggested and logged off while he stood behind her watching. “Now Mr Williams, you’d better show me what you had in mind.” He didn’t wait. * All week, driving off to work, Jack had expected the letter to arrive. He knew Annie wouldn’t open his post but he’d still have to explain why it was addressed to him. It had seemed right at the time, but Annie had changed; or was he just seeing her differently? But the letter didn’t come. Maybe it took time to get through their administration, or perhaps the girl had changed her mind. But they’d have told him that surely. He’d just have to be patient. Then on Saturday morning when he got up to make tea for them both, there 9

was a letter on the mat. He picked it up; the hospital stamp was clearly there. For a few moments he stared at it, suddenly unable to open it straightaway. He walked through to the kitchen and put the kettle on, still holding it. Take it upstairs, open it together he decided, fudge the name on the front. He made the tea and took it up. “The letter,” he said, “it’s arrived.” “Letter?” she said, sitting up. “From the hospital. The girl.” Suddenly her face seemed to focus, all evidence of sleep disappearing. He opened it cautiously, discarded the envelope his side of the bed and got back in, holding it out towards her. She took it, glancing at him for a moment and looking strangely determined. Then she held the letter out at arms length. Incongruously he rerun fleetingly a conversation about her needing some glasses. He peered forwards to see it with her. “Getting married!” Annie said excitedly. He could feel the same excitement inside him. “Didn’t take her long,” he said grinning. “Maybe the wedding is today,” she said, putting the letter down beside her and then almost at once picking it up again. “Changed her life, she says.” Annie was smiling. “He’s not dead really, not completely, is he.” “What do you mean?” he said. “He can’t be if parts of him live on. It’s in here.” She was waving the letter in the space in front of her. It was like a new Annie. “No,” he said quietly, “No, he can’t.” It felt strangely comforting. Their gift . . . no, Jamie’s gift, had changed the girl’s life. And now the gift was being returned. * Emily couldn’t stop smiling. Beside her, Mark, looking outrageously smart in his new blue suit was smiling too as the cameras kept flashing. How many of them were there? She waved back at all the children from her class, and Mark’s too. Above them the bright sky reflected everything she was feeling. “I now pronounce you man and wife.” The words echoed round in her head as she held onto his arm, and as if he was reading her mind, Mark turned and smiled at her, whispering ‘Mrs Williams’ in her ear. The impulse to kiss him was too strong to resist, and was followed by a burst of cheering and more flashes from everyone in front of them. Even her mum looked happy.

What would she have been doing a year ago? Sitting in an uncomfortable chair in the dialysis ward with two needles attached to her arm. How could it all have happened so quickly? For a moment she thought of the unknown guy who’d made it all possible. Did he have a girlfriend, or a wife? Strange to think she’d never know that. Some instinct made her put her hand to her abdomen where the new kidney was quietly working to keep her in the wonderful moment she wanted to last forever. Little Tyler caught her eye, waving frantically with a grin that somehow seemed larger than her face. She lifted her arm in her direction and was greeted by great waves of goodwill from all of the children and parents around Tyler. “Feels like being royalty!” she said. “They all love you Emily.” “It’s for you as well. You’ve taught them all too.” “They’re especially pleased for you,” he said. “Who would have believed this?” Certainly not me, she thought. How many chances did it take to get here? Two big ones: transplant at just the moment when Mark needed a supply teaching job and Siobhan’s pregnancy meaning he stayed at the school. And there as if she’d conjured her up in her head was Siobhan, little one in one arm and waving with the other. Maybe one day soon . . . Was he reading her mind again? Mark was looking round at her with a big grin on his face. Life, new life was ahead of them. If you have been inspired by this story and would like to support the work of Kidney Research UK please follow the link and leave a donation Please make cheques payable to Kidney Research UK and send to the below address. Short Story Appeal Kidney Research UK Nene Hall, Lynch Wood Park Peterborough Cambridgeshire PE2 6FZ Or Telephone 0800 783 2973 - Please reference the short story when making your donation. Click here to find out more about the author.