The Day They Forced Me to Donate a Kidney, I Made the National Team

4: 4

Four in the morning. Movement downstairs.

Dad was on the phone.

"Yes, I'll definitely bring her over today."

"She's just throwing a fit. Don't let it hold up the donor evaluation."

Clara stood in my doorway holding a glass of milk.

"Chrissy, drink this and get a little more sleep."

"When you wake up, we'll go to the hospital."

I looked at her hands, tight around the glass, and didn't take it.

"Sleep right through check-in, you mean?"

Her eyes went red at once.

"I don't have a choice either, sweetheart."

"Ellie's in so much pain from dialysis every single day. Can't you feel for her, just once?"

I answered quietly.

"When my knee hurt so bad I couldn't sleep half the night, did you ever feel for me?"

She froze.

Like the question had never once crossed her mind.

Soon Dad came charging up the stairs.

"Christine Swanson, you are going to that hospital today."

"Ellie is my daughter too. She's your own sister."

"The same blood runs in both of you. You can't be this heartless."

I looked at him.

"She's your daughter. So am I."

"But from start to finish, you only ever saw me as the one who could save her."

Joseph stood behind him, the ethics-consultation acknowledgment form in his hand.

The corner of the paper was crushed from his grip.

"Chrissy, just sign this first."

"It's not the surgical consent. It's only confirming the consultation."

"You're going to hold me down and make me sign too?"

His eyes were shot through with red.

"I'm not trying to force you."

"I just can't stand watching Ellie wait to die."

I took a step forward.

"And if I donate and can never run again?"

His voice cracked.

"I'll go through rehab with you."

"If rehab doesn't work, I'll take care of you."

I looked at him, and suddenly I laughed.

"Joseph, what I want is the track."

"Not you finding me a bed to lie in for the rest of my life."

The color drained from his face in an instant.

Dad lunged for my training bag.

"Still thinking about leaving?"

"You walk out that door today, and I no longer have a daughter."

I grabbed the strap.

"You stopped having a daughter the moment you put my name on that fundraising page."

Dad raised his hand.

Joseph blocked him at once.

"Sir, don't hit her."

I looked at Joseph's hand.

He knew to block a slap.

But not the knife.

I turned back into my room and pulled an old tin box out from under the bed slats.

Inside sat the first gold medal I ever won at a city meet.

Under the medal: a screenshot of the temporary travel authorization I'd applied for in advance, a backup bank card, the check-in letter the team had reissued.

And the medical risk assessment form Coach Lyons had a teammate bring over.

I'd stopped daring to leave my last way out in their hands a long time ago.

Clara went white.

"When did you set all this up?"

I stuffed the competition jacket into my training bag.

"Back when the two of you agreed to donate my kidney for me."

Joseph took a step closer.

"Chrissy, don't go."

I untied the red cord from my wrist.

He'd fastened it there outside the training ground on my eighteenth birthday.

He said he hoped I'd be safe in every race I ran.

I set the red cord in his palm.

"Joseph, you protect her."

"I'll protect myself."

His fingers clamped shut around it.

I picked up my training bag and went down the stairs.

Clara chased after me, crying.

Behind me Dad roared my name.

Elisa stood at the top of the stairs in her nightgown, and softly called me sister.

I didn't stop.

The early morning wind cut across my face, cold as a blade.

Outside the complex, Coach Lyons sat in the passenger seat of the team car.

When she saw me, she asked nothing. She just pushed the door open.

By the time I reached the airport, the boarding call was already going out.

I handed over my boarding pass, and my phone buzzed again.

It was Coach Lyons.

Her voice was pitched very low.

"Chrissy, don't panic yet."

"The team just received materials your family filed under their real names."

"They're saying you're tied up in a kidney surgery evaluation, and the team doctor is asking to hold your check-in registration."

"It's not disqualification, but you have to explain the situation and finish the review within twenty-four hours."

Right after that, a voice message from Joseph popped up.

"Chrissy, I only wanted you to come back and talk it through, once."

"Just come back first. We'll figure something out about your eligibility."

The gate scanner beeped and the light went green.

I gripped the boarding pass and walked through.

I had to get to the team first and hold onto my eligibility. Then I'd have the strength to settle every account, slowly.