ch 1 pt 1
Six months before he was scheduled to die found Roxas in the employee bathroom at Wallace Insurance.
He gripped the smooth marble countertop with one white-knuckled hand as gooey remains of Captain Crunch cereal spewed from his mouth. His other hand rested on the handle of the toilet, flushing every few seconds so outside Tifa wouldn't hear him. The boy's shoulder blades squeezed together with every convulsion of his body. A sick Roxas seemed very out of place within a pink marble bathroom, white fluffy towels stacked neatly on the brass shelves.
When he was finished, Roxas grabbed one of the plush towels and hurriedly wiped the vomit off his lips and chin. He dropped the towel into a nearby wastebasket before splashing his face with cold water from the stainless steel faucet. The boy briefly checked his appearance in the mirror, fixing his golden hair and adjusting the collar of his button-down shirt. Finally he grabbed the handle of the bathroom door and heaved it open.
"Try to think of this as a onetime only thing, kiddo," Tifa sighed when Roxas stepped back into her office. "The employee bathroom is only for, you know, employees."
"Duly noted," Roxas said as he sank into one of the black leather chairs across from Tifa's enormous mahogany desk. Roxas had sat in this chair dozens of times before, usually clutching a Game boy while his brother Cloud dealt with both business matters and flirtation.
Tifa gave Roxas a smile, folding her manicured hands in her lap.
"So what brings you here, kid? I can hook you up with an internship if that's what you need. You're about that age."
Roxas shook his head, reaching forward to poke at a rather beautiful seashell that Tifa used as a paperweight.
"No, I just have a question about the surgery." Roxas never lifted his eyes from the shell, studying the perfect swirling pattern on its fragile body. "You know, four years ago."
"Yes, I remember, seeing as yours was the case that had me promoted from intern to agent," Tifa said matter-of-factly. "Cut to the chase, kid."
"I wanted to know about the donor."
Roxas's cheeks burned, his eyes glued to the shell as if it held the universe within its delicate walls. He finally sat back in his seat, waiting for Tifa's answer.
"Negatory, Roxas."
He knew it.
Tifa's expression softened to one of sympathy. "You know the rules. The donor requested to remain anonymous and I'd lose my job if I went against his wishes, considering the sacrifice he made."
Roxas swallowed, disappointment churning in his stomach. He finally lifted his eyes from the shell to give Tifa a weary look.
"I've tried everything," he sighed.
"Have you talked to the hospital? The doctor that performed the surgery?" Tifa asked, tucking a lock of long dark hair behind her ear.
"All of them. None of them know anything. And whenever I try to call the organ donor organization or whatever it is, I always get a recorded message." Roxas bit his lip. "It's always happened. I've been trying since right after the surgery, when I was only thirteen. Nothing."
Tifa pursed her lips. "If that's the case, I can pull some strings and try to get an alternate number for the Dusk Foundation, where you got your kidney. I'm sure we have one somewhere in our records." She swiveled her chair around to pull at drawers in the wooden cabinet behind her. Each of her clients had a folder of their own, stuffed with doctor's reports, bank statements, and surgical descriptions.
As the young woman fumbled for Roxas's file, the client in question rubbed his eyes in frustration. If his insurance agent and future sister-in-law couldn't help him, then who could? Roxas didn't dare push Tifa for more information about the donor; he knew better than to make her choose between him and her job.
"If you don't mind me asking," Tifa said, pulling the file from the cabinet and setting it on her desk, "-why exactly do you want to know so badly? It's been four years. You might as well let it go."
Roxas licked his lips. What to tell her? That last week his doctor had informed him that the kidney he had gotten from the mysterious donor was failing? That he had been given less than a year to live?
"When I first got the surgery done, you and Cloud said I was doped up for a few days, right?" Roxas finally asked.
Tifa nodded, completely attentive to whatever Roxas was about to tell her.
Clearing his throat, the boy continued. "Well, sometime after the surgery, I don't remember when, I woke up. It must have been at night because everything was quiet and my room was dark. I remember not being able to sit up and my back and stomach hurt horribly," he winced just remembering the pain. "While I was trying to figure out where I was - and who I was - the door to the hallway opened. I remember the light from the doorway on the floor. It seemed really bright, and I wan'ted to close my eyes until I saw someone in the doorway. It was a guy, kinda tall, with short hair that was spiked up like crazy. I knew he was too tall to be Cloud and his hair was too crazy to be my doctor's, so I watched him. He must have thought I was asleep because he closed the door really quietly and walked really slowly to my bed. He put his hand on my face, and-"
"Roxas," Tifa interrupted him, her voice so soft it could hardly be called that. Startled out of the memory, Roxas fixed his gaze on her curiously.
"Roxas, you were dreaming. Lots of patients do that," she said, running her hand over her beautiful seashell paperweight. "Those painkiller drugs have been known to do weird things to people."
Roxas felt his cheeks go red and he sat up straighter. "I wasn't dreaming," he said firmly. "I'm sure of it. I remember what he smelled like, what his hand felt like on my face, all of it," he said firmly.
Tifa still looked skeptical. She set her elbows on her desk and folded her hands together, setting her shin on her interwoven fingers. "Roxas, that's impossible. The kidney had been removed from your donor a week before it was shipped to you. Donors are usually in much more pain after their surgeries than the recipient of their organs, so it's very unlikely that your mystery guy was fit enough to be walking around. His kidney wasn't even removed at your hospital."
Unrelenting, Roxas furrowed his brows together and crossed his arms over his chest. "That was him. I'm sure it was. He even said so." When Tifa lifted her head a little in interest, Roxas went on. "He talked to me for a while. He sat in the chair next to my bed and told jokes talked about television shows and cars. He mentioned being the donor and stuff but didn't really talk that much about it."
Tifa's eyebrow quirked. She straightened herself, idly playing with the sleeve of her crisp blue blouse. Finally she met Roxas's gaze.
"Look, kiddo... I'll help you as much as I can, much as I think this is just a wild goose chase. Just don't do anything illogical, okay?" she sighed.
Realizing this was probably Tifa's attempt to end the conversation, Roxas stood. "Yeah, thanks. You know our number. Take care, okay?" He offered her a boyish smile and the insurance agent grinned back.
"Sure thing. I have to admit, you have quite the formidable pout. Must have gotten it from your dorky brother," she teased, already opening his file to begin scanning for information. "Now shoo, I have work to do."
And shoo Roxas did, though not until he had invaded the employee bathroom one last time.
--
As usual, the condominium was quiet when Roxas finally returned home. He glanced at the VCR, proclaiming the time in bright green letters. It was just after seven 'o clock, meaning Cloud had left for work about a half hour ago.
Roxas fixed himself a Hot Pocket for dinner and retreated to his room, a tiny space inside he and his brother's already cramped Las Vegas condo. Everything was where he had left it that morning before his trip to Tifa's office and then an agonizingly long visit to the medical labs. The bed was made, a pair of pajamas were folded neatly on the bed, and a computer was humming happily in the corner.
To say Roxas was a neatfreak was a bit of an understatement; his baseball posters all had the same amount of space between them. His bed was patterned with red plaid to match the jerseys of the Red Sox, and unlike msot seventeen-year-old boys Roxas always used his closet and dresser to store his clothes rather than throw them around on the floor. An untouched acoustic guitar was propped against the wall of one corner of his bedroom and a shelf of books was balanced over the headboard of his bed. Also unlike msot teenagers, there was no television in his room, though Roxas figured a computer was all he really needed.
Setting his house keys and bus pass down on the dresser, Roxas plopped down in the swivel chair in front of the glowing screen. In seconds he had the internet open and was swiftly typing away on his favorite blogging site, a small nook of the world wide web with few users and lousy graphics. Roxas adored it.
JULY 26 2008 7:15:02 PM
> Tifa can't really help me. She said the best she could do was try to get ahold of the Dusk Foundation's working phone number. Even though she's my brother's fianceé and very good at what she does, I still have my doubts about how much information she can legally get for me. It's like Mr. X purposely erased every trace of himself from me, with the exception of our encounter in the hospital.
Roxas paused to ponder what to say next. His blog had few followers and in return he followed very few blogs, but those select people that did know him were very aware of Roxas' obsession with who he called "Mr. X." And in some way Roxas was faintly hopeful that his donor would find his blog one day, read it, and leave some kind of passionate comment about why he had donated his kidney out of love for children and a sense of hope for the little thirteen-year-old blond boy withering away in his hospital bed. Although the probability of this was almost nil, Roxas figured fantasizing couldn't hurt and continued to update.
I hope I can find him. He's given me the past four years of my life and I think I owe him for that. Maybe he has a son like me. It's funny what people will do when they meet a kid that reminds them of their own children. Or it could be a girl, I suppose, because they never did give me a specific gender and also mentioned the kidney was unusually small enough to fit me. There are so many questions!
Roxas finished up the post by complaining about the rough way he had been treated at the lab that afternoon, such as not even getting a warning before the nurses had stuck a particularly large needle into his arm, making him jump. Roxas doubted anyone else would care, but blogging proved to be a a fabulously good way to vent. He finally clicked the 'UPDATE' button and didn't bother checking his e-mail afterwards, instead opting to flop down on his bed and fall asleep.