speak to Easton Radcliffe, please?”
“This is him.”
“Mr. Radcliffe, this is Dr. Harbor calling you back about your test results.”
My heart began to pump harder, and I sucked in a breath. “Oh, yes. I’m glad you called.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Radcliffe, your kidney isn’t a match for Maya Anderson.”
Shock washed over me, making me almost numb. I’d been so sure that God would allow me to donate my kidney to Maya that I’d starting mentally preparing myself for the procedure. I opened my mouth, but there were no words.
“Mr. Radcliffe? Are you still there?”
“Yes. Sorry. Thank you for letting me know. What about her mother? Or my sister, Charlotte Radcliffe? Are they matches?”
“We’re unable to disclose that information due to confidentiality.”
“Oh…right. I’ll talk to them on my own. Thank you. Goodbye.” I ended the call and sat down on my bed, burying my head in my hands. A crushing weight pushed down on my chest, and it felt as if I couldn’t breathe.
It wasn’t until that moment that I realized why it had been so important to me to donate my kidney. I’d wanted to ensure Maya would be around for a long, long time, and that was my way of guaranteeing it would happen. I’d wanted control, but clearly, I didn’t have it.
I called Charlotte and then Mrs. Anderson, and both shared that they had also gotten results and neither were a match. It would have been easier if someone had punched me in the gut and knocked me down. That, I could handle. I threw my phone across the room and sunk to the ground, unable to hold my limbs up any longer. Despair and grief and a sensation of hopelessness filled my soul. It felt as if my entire world was crumbling around me, and I was helpless to do anything about it.
No, Lord. This is not cool. I thought we had this covered. I thought we had an easy solution.
Angry tears formed in my eyes, and I clenched my teeth. This is so wrong, God. So. Very. Wrong. You gave me faith to believe in You, and the first time my faith is tested, You let me down.
The tears slid down my face, and I wiped them away, feeling sick to my stomach. Worse than that, I was terrified I might lose her.
I didn’t know what I would do if that happened.
Losing my dad had been hard enough. Losing Maya would crush me. Devastate me.
Someone else had to be a match. We just had to find the right person.
I stood and walked to the other side of the room, retrieving my phone. Thankfully, it hadn’t died, and the screen wasn’t even cracked. That was a miracle in itself.
I let out a breath and tried to reframe my thinking. The situation wasn’t hopeless. It only felt that way. I had to believe that.
Remorse filled me as I considered my angry response to God. All my life I’d done what was best for me, and I’d never once looked to God for what He thought was best. Maybe that was the lesson He wanted me to learn. I’m so sorry, Lord. Forgive me for not trusting you. Help me to deal with this. I don’t know how to handle it.
I sensed the presence of the Lord in the room, comforting me, giving me strength. And then Charlotte’s words came back to me. In a fight-or-flight situation, you’ve always been a fighter.
That was who I was, and I would fight to find a solution to the very end. I had connections all over, and people who would be more than willing to go to bat for me. It was time to call in some favors.
The first person who came to mind was Ron Simmons, an old college buddy who was now a doctor at the Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. We used to talk a lot, but it had been a while since we’d connected. I found his number in my phone contacts and called. It went straight to voicemail, so I left a message letting him know I needed his advice.
I called Maya after, wanting to hear her voice, and I wanted to find out how she was dealing with the news. The phone rang five times before she answered.
“Hey, Easton.” She sounded weary and a little down.
“How’s my girl?”
“Hanging in there.” There was a long pause. “I know you aren’t a match. Mom told me she spoke with you and Charlotte.”
“Yeah, we talked a few minutes ago. I’m sorry, Maya.