My Kidney or Our Marriage

Whenever my husband, a Mafia don, needs me to back down, out come the divorce papers. When my parents, practically Mafia royalty, want the same thing, they threaten to cut me out of the family.

The demand never changes. Whatever I have, my twin sister should get it.

There was a time when I argued. When I cried and asked why I was always the one who had to give something up.

Then a doctor pushes my results across his desk. His voice has that careful, pitying softness. “Advanced brain cancer. A month, possibly less.” And suddenly, I just... don't care anymore.

I'm going to die. Let them have their way.

Audrey's POV

My phone rings as I stand outside the hospital.

Vincent.

I pick up, and he starts before I can speak. “Where are you? Come home.” He's irritated already. “Chloe fainted again. The doctor wants surgery scheduled right away. You're signing the kidney donation paperwork today. Understand?”

He doesn't wait for an answer. “And spare me your usual bullshit. Keep stalling, and my lawyer files for divorce. It's up to you.”

The call ends.

I look at the dark screen, unable to think. He's used that threat before. A month ago, Chloe decided she wanted my necklace. The month before that, it was our primary bedroom.

The pressure over my kidney has lasted six months, ever since Chloe went into the hospital. They've taken turns coming at me.

Dad shouted over the phone. “So you like being the big sister, do you? She's spent her whole life sick because you took everything in the womb! Now she's dying, and you won't even spare a kidney?”

Mom cried as she made her threat. “If you won't save her, you're no daughter of ours. We didn't bring you up to stand there and let your sister die!”

Vincent didn't bother with tears. “You wouldn't do this to me if you loved me. You're the only compatible donor Chloe has. Refuse, and you're forcing me to choose.”

At the time, I refused anyway.

Dad walked out in a rage. Mom jabbed a finger at me and said I was a heartless monster. Vincent flung divorce papers in my face.

Now I can't find it in me to care.

I sit in my car beneath a dull gray sky. For the first time, there's something almost like relief.

One month. That's all I have. Let her take the kidney. Soon enough, I won't have any use for it.

Evening has settled in by the time I turn into the driveway.

I walk past the guards. Laughter reaches me before I open the front door.

My parents occupy opposite ends of the sofa, with Vincent between them and Chloe nestled against him. Sliced fruit sits on the coffee table. Our cat dozes beside the couch. Dad is in the middle of a joke, and Vincent watches Chloe with a tenderness I recognize.

She's in a cream cashmere dress, laughing, her face pink and her eyes lively.

Nothing about her suggests she needs a kidney transplant.

The door shuts with a click. Vincent looks up, and the softness vanishes.

He gets to his feet, takes two sets of papers from a drawer in the coffee table, and drops them in front of me.

“Donation consent. Divorce agreement.” He sounds like he's clearing paperwork off his desk. “Choose. Right now.”

My parents fall silent and look over.

Mom gives me a disapproving look. “Why are you only getting in now? Your sister was running a fever this afternoon. We were worried sick.”

Dad makes a disgusted noise. “Out doing God knows what. You could put some of that energy into caring about Chloe.”

I crouch to collect the papers.

The proposed surgery date is already there on the consent form: a week from today. The other document bears his lawyer's letterhead. He's had all of this ready.

I look from one face to the next.

Chloe catches her lower lip between her teeth. “Audrey, please don't be upset... I know this isn't what you want. You don't have to donate. I'll find another way...”

“What other way?” Vincent snaps, staring at me instead of her. “You're the only match. Who else is she supposed to ask?”

Tears gather in Mom's eyes. “He's right. Are you really going to let her die?”

I study the consent form without answering.

After a while, I cross to the table, take a pen, and write my name.

For a beat, nobody makes a sound. Then they all start talking.

“Thank you, God!” Mom wipes her face and hurries to wrap her arms around Chloe. “My little girl is going to be all right!”

Dad exhales and pats Vincent on the shoulder. “This should've been settled ages ago. The older sister is supposed to take care of the younger one.”

Vincent watches me for a moment. His expression eases, though it doesn't turn kind. “You made the right choice.”

He sits back down and resumes his conversation with Chloe.

While they're busy celebrating, I lower my eyes, retrieve the divorce agreement, and turn to the signature page. I sign that too.

Then I leave it at the far corner of the table.

Not one of them sees.

For the next ten minutes or so, they're delighted. Mom gets out her phone to order dinner. “This calls for a real celebration.”

Afterward, she puts the phone away and apparently remembers I'm still here. “And you don't need to worry. Once Chloe's operation is over, you'll both still get your shares of the family trust. We aren't going to take what's yours.”

“Of course not,” Dad agrees. “You can be difficult, but you're our daughter too.”

Vincent leans against the cushions. “When she's well, we can all get on with our lives. Just quit making everything so hard for her.”

Chloe is still curled into his side. Mom pours her a glass of water. Behind the sofa, Dad looks on, smiling.

They make a snug little group. A whole family.

I stand across the coffee table, apart from all of them.

Looking at them, I nearly laugh.

My share of the trust? A life with him?

I won't be here next month. What could I possibly do with either?

I shake my head. “Keep it. I don't want any of it now.”