Winslow Parkway was an arrangement of dollhouses. At the grassy street corner I stood, there were rows of reasonably sized monochromatic homes that led to dense apartment complexes. Through a window on the side of a house, I saw a man rising from family breakfast, without kissing his wife, to join the rest of the street in their frantic commute to work. Their border collie escaped, and the younger boy chased after him.
I didn’t bother to make an effort not to be seen. No one could afford to notice anything, but of course, everyone was watched. Pass go. Collect two hundred dollars.
I walked down the street to apartment two ninety-four, and rang the doorbell. I adjusted my new business suit. I hadn’t spoken to Reese in two years, but I kept up with her life. Her first husband (and second fiancé) walked out on her and their son three months ago, who had been on the waiting list for a liver transplant for almost six months.
I noticed her tired eyes and unwashed hair as she answered the door.
“James, how have you been?” She led me to her aged yellow couch.
“Okay. Lots of houses to sell. And you? Are you still working at St. Nora’s?”
“Yes, even though getting sick is a death sentence, I do what I can for those people,” she said, looking back into the other bedroom. “I should bring some tea to Glenn.”
“I heard about your son, from Terry across the street,” I said, without giving it much thought.
“Is that what you’re here for?” Her wrinkles deepened around her mouth.
“I’m not trying to put your house up for sale.”
“Who said that’s what I meant? Would you like some tea?”
“I know how you go to the worse case scenario in your head when unpleasantness is mentioned.”
“I just know you wouldn’t come all the way here to try and sell my house.” Her face appeared softer. She walked back into the kitchen and poured me a cup, the heels on her shoes could faintly be heard against the tile.
“I can tap into the database of immediate donors. Locals who want Glenn to beat this, who don’t have much hope themselves.” I blew on the citrus tea and brought it to my lips.
“He’s going to his grandmother’s later, once the sleeping pills wear off. She’s looking into getting us registered for her home in Syracuse.”
“Just stay in this house for a little while longer and give me a chance to help.”
“How confident are you in locating one of these donors?”
“I’ve been saving up. Keeping inventory of who’s the most desperate.” It’s what I imagined waiting to make a move in the stock market would have been like.
“We should be leaving this building in two months,” she said.
“I can do what needs to be done in much less time than that.”
“And what about the money?”
“The operation itself is free, provided I can procure the organ needed.”
“And how do I know you’ll do so in an honorarable way, or that you wouldn’t make me pay for it the rest of my life?”
“Because I’m not that desperate.”
I kissed her cheek, thanked her for the tea, and said goodbye.
“And I’m sorry about how things ended with us,” I said.
It would have been wrong to keep a good woman down when I had the means to help.
Part Two, For Reese
I saw a man with curly, pale orange hair fixing his bike on the street. He was probably one of the others asking for money after being down on their luck from years of active duty. The wars have always been where all the money goes, anyway.
I looked down at his waxy face. It would have been so easy for me to do what needed to be done. He wasn’t on any waiting list, so it would have been more pleasant, though less seamless than my alternative.
I returned to the house on the corner, taking out the key I welded, noticing the baby monitors around, the navy walls containing shadows. The mother gardening out back.
I knew from the rehearsals in my head that I couldn’t do it. He kept getting younger and younger in my head each imaginary blow I would make. I brought the second installment of the injection-untraceable-from my pocket, and approached the child.
And, given no other alternative, I returned to work.
