151 Sum Greater Than the Addition of the Parts

I was my fault. It was just a short ride from parking lot to parking lot, across the intersection. I hadn't bothered to buckle my belt. The hit-and-run hit...and ran.

Hit my head, hit my left side, my right side, my left wrist, my right knee.

After seven hours in surgery, they fixed my wrist, knee, and drilled a few little holes in my skull to release blood clots.

They also had to remove my kidneys. Five days later, I was on dialysis and put on the kidney donor list.

"We have a kidney for you, Mr. Thompson!" the doctor announced.

"That didn't take long," I exclaimed. "What about this waiting years--or never? Are they exaggerations?"

"No, but your kidney's a special request from an anonymous donor. But you need it. It's not wise to question a source who's apparently an angel for you."

"Ugh," I groaned, "more surgery."

"Would you like us to give it to someone else?

"No! It's mine!" I insisted.

I spent two hours in the OR getting my new kidney. Re-operating over the same site would double my pain, but it sure beat spending six hours a day, three days a week, being dialyzed. On post-op day three, the nurse came in.

"You have a visitor, Mr. Thompson. A Señor Jesús Torres."

"Can't turn away Jesus, right? How's my pee?"

"Nice. Deep amber, and lots. That kidney's working fine. You've really taken to it; your blood work's great." Jesús walked in slowly, seemingly in pain.

"¡Buenos días!" He had in his arms a bouquet of flowers, which was strange.

"I'm sorry, Mr., er, Torres, right?"

"Si, Torres."

"Do I know you?"

Sauntering over to a chair, he eased himself into it, stifling pain.

"We met last week, Mr. Thompson. By accident."

"Excuse me?"

"The intersection. I'm so sorry I left, but I'm indocumentado."

I seethed. Here was the man who hit me--and ran. The felon, the scum, the undocumented criminal. And as he pointed out, my kidney donor--with his riñón.

"It's the least I could do."

I had him thrown out. Least I could do! Bastard. He was dead to me!

After a week of my vitriol, so was his kidney.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

For Thursday, May 30, Day 151 of the Story-a-Day Challenge.

366 WORDS (without A/N)

Title-accompaniment photo's inappropriate racial stereotype was AI-generated, but La Condition humaine was not. (AI = Artificial Insensitivity)

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There are currently three surviving Vocal writers still participating in the 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge:

• L.C. Schäfer, challenge originator

• Rachel Deeming

• Gerard DiLeo (some other guy)

Read them. Support them. And pray for them. And watch them at they continue to search for 215 more stories to write without repeating themselves.