Michael had signed all the papers. It took him some time. He was sure he had never signed his own name this many times in his life. Every rigid M, every loop of the L, the quick draw of an S, one paper after another. He was signing over his body, his life, and all he felt was nothing. No remorse, no pride, no joy. Yet, the heaviness was not there like before.
"There," Michael said, drawing a line under his signature. "Please tell me this is the last one."
"It is the last," Dr. Richard said, sorting the papers. "You are legally set to be a donor now. All that remains are the check-ups."
"When will I have these checkups?"
"In two days or so."
"Okay then," Michael said, standing. "Can I go?"
"Hold on, Michael," Dr. Richard said, "I would like you to meet the patient first."
Michael tensed at this request. "I don’t know, Dr. Richard," Michael said with a nervous smile. "It is not necessary for the surgery, is it?"
"From a medical point, it's not. But, you should. You are giving away your life for a stranger—best you make sure you know who it is."
Michael stood thinking. He didn’t want to meet this person. He didn’t know what kind of conversation would he have with the person.
"What if I don't like the person?" Michael asked.
"What if you like the person?" Dr. Richard answered.
Michael clicked his tongue. “Alright.”
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Michael walked behind Dr. Richard, following him to meet Ana Fortier. He was happy to leave the claustrophobic office to the spacious halls of the hospital. They always made him feel trapped and watched.
The doctor who before appeared grim and strict was walking with a spring in his step; brisk but relaxed.
"So Dr. Richard," Michael asked. "how is Ana… as a person?"
"Oh, she's a very charming lady I tell you," Dr. Richard said. "Quite witty and smart. A little jokey."
"Oh, sounds like a likable person."
"Yes, she is. But she can be a little stubborn."
"Stubborn?" Michael asked.
"You will understand when you meet her."
Michael hummed to himself. He wondered what she would think of him. He would be a stranger to her and yet, he would be not. How would he react if somebody unknown to him decided to give their life for him? Michael weighted these thoughts until they reached one of the patient rooms.
"Here we are," Dr. Richard said and turned the doorknob.
Dr. Richard entered the room and Michael stepped in behind with a caution in his steps. The walls of the room were white. There was a sliding window on the wall in front of William. A bed was in the middle and aside it stood several small health monitors on a table. Two people sat at the right side of the bed on steel tools. They were the couple from before, the Fortiers. There was a third person in the bed, no doubt Ana Fortier.
The sheets rustled and a girl’s head popped up over the couple. The girl observed Michael with a curious look, glancing at him from top to bottom. Meanwhile, Michael noticed a scar on her forehead, then her light blue eyes. She had short black hair with bangs, a long nose with a pinkish mouth. From what Michael could see of her shoulder, he took she was wearing an orange T-shirt.
Ana turned to the doctor and smiled. "Hello there, Dr. Richard, who is this with you?"
"Easy there, Ana," Dr. Richard said. "You shouldn’t move much. You should rest."
“That is what I have been telling her,” Mrs. Fortier said, staring at Ana half in annoyance and half in worry.
The couple looked back to address them. They gave a quick glance to Michael and smiled at him. Michael returned their smile with a nod.
"I am feeling better now," Ana said. "It is not like I am running and jumping around."
Ana looked at Michael. "Are you my donor?"
Michael was taken aback by this direct question—even her parents went stiff.
"Uh, yes, I am, I am your donor," Michael said.
Ana pursed her lips. Her upbeat energy shrunk and she looked away. He must have reminded her of her dilemma, Michael thought.
Ana looked back again, trying to appear as friendly as she could. “Thank you for helping me.”
The small smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but Michael felt she was honest.
Dr. Richard smiled. "You two seem to have started talking already."
He excused himself and told Michael to make himself familiar. Michael was going to protest about leaving him alone but he was still too embarrassed to utter a word
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At Ms. Fortier's insistence, Michael pulled a stool from the side and joined them. It was awkward when nobody was speaking. Michael put his fears aside and broke the ice.
"So," Michael said in a forced casual tone, "what were you guys talking about?"
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Despite his initial misgivings, Michael was having a good time talking to the family. Ana, as Dr. Richard had said, was quite the jester. It was hard to believe the person before him was dying. She seemed so full of life, a ball of light which colored the dull walls of the room with her voice and laughter. Ana was laughing, making faces, telling jokes—and Mr. and Mrs. Fortier were laughing and smiling too.
Lots of emotions started to well up inside Michael. He had forgotten about family… how a happy family looked. The more he looked at them, the more a deep longing started to surface in his heart.
Thomas's phone buzzed. He grimaced as he looked at its screen.
"Dad, everything good?" Ana asked.
"Oh, it’s nothing," Thomas replied. "Have to go to work."
"You should go, Dad," Ana said and turned to her mother. "And you too, Mom. I know you two have not eaten anything."
"Ana, its fine. You don't have to worry."
"Yes I do have to worry," Ana said. "I may be sick, but that does not have to be that you have to be sick too because of me."
Michael looked at the exchange in silence. A battle of concern against concern and worry against worry. It made him a little envious at their bond and embarrassed too. He felt like he was intruding on a personal moment.
Her parents argued, but Ana didn't budge and at last, her parents had to give up. They gave her a hug while Mr. Thomas directed a handshake at Michael which he fumbled to grab while standing up. They said their goodbyes and were gone.
After the departure of the two, Michael didn’t know what to do. He didn't speak. He didn't know what to speak. Michael thought he should leave but before he could say anything, Ana beat him to it.
“Little awkward, isn't it?” Ana said, scratching her cheek.
“Uh, a little bit,” Michael said, fidgeting in his seat. “Well, we haven’t met before.”
“Hm, we should learn about each other,” Ana said with a nod.
She adjusted herself and she faced Michael completely.
“Hello,” Ana said. “My name is Ana Fortier.”
“Hi, I am Michael Strong,” Michael said, imitating her actions.
“Nice to meet you, Michael.”
“Nice to meet you too, Ana.”
“So, how are you today?”
“Oh, uh, I am pretty fine—life is good.”
"How old are you, Michael?"
"I am 21. What about you?"
"Well, I am 18."
"No, you are 20."
"H-how did you know that?"
"Dr. Richard told me."
"Oh, how rude of him," Ana said, massaging her face with her hand. "How could he give it so?"
"Maybe cause I am the one going to save you," Michael said which he regretted a second later.
"Wow, you talked like some hero or something," Ana said.
"I am sorry. It just came out."
"It's ok. I am dying."
"…I am sorry to hear that," Michel said, averting his eyes.
Michael started at the window. The sky was deep blue. A rustle went through the bed and Michael found Ana had laid down. Michael found she appeared different. The cheerfulness of Ana walked away, and there stood instead a face of monotony staring at the white ceiling of the room.
Michael pushed his stool to the wall and leaned against it. Ana looked at him through the corner of her eyes.
"It is so… I don't know what to say," Ana said.
"Same," Michael said. "I don't know what to say."
Ana turned on her side, facing away from the Michael. Michael looked at Ana wondering what her mind was going through.
"It was a week ago," Ana said. "I came back from college. We had a girl's volleyball match that day. It was going so well" Ana turned on her back, a faint smile present on her lips, yet her eyes remained vacant. "I was running all over the court. I can say I was the best player there without any doubt. I dived, struck, dug, basically a one-woman team."
"Sounds you were pretty good at volleyball," Michael said with a chuckle.
"Yeah, and we won thanks to me," Ana said, patting her shoulder. "We celebrated and I came back home. Two steps in from the doorway, my heart feels like somebody speared me and I didn't know anymore and I hit my head on the chair. Sweet dreams."
"God that's horrible," Michael said and he looked at her forehead. "So the scar on your head?"
"Yep," Ana said and snorted. "My battle scar. I showed the chair who's boss"
"Seems like you used your head in this battle."
Ana gave a surprised glance at Michael who was trying not to grin. She burst out laughing.
"My god, that was so bad!" Ana said between giggles.
"Sorry, I couldn’t help it," Michael said, covering his mouth.
"It was not even that funny."
'Then why are you laughing?" Michael said with raised eyebrows.
"Why are you laughing?" Ana said smiling.
"Cause it was funny," Michael said.
"Well, I laughed cause you gave an ‘evil smile’ like a mastermind who had just succeeded in his plans," Ana said, trying to emulate the ‘evil smile’.
"Hehehe, and you fell right into the trap," Michael said, giving the evil smile and rubbing his hands in a dramatic fashion.
Ana laughed. “God, you are funny. You were so silent before.”
"Evil masterminds need to maintain their mystery," Michael said.
"God, save me from his clutches," Ana said, posing her hands in a prayer.
"God, let me get her in my clutches," Michael said, praying himself.
Soon, the room was full of noise and laughter. Both of them forgot their earlier awkwardness and were enjoying their little antics. At a glance, they were more friends than strangers.
"So Michael, do you go to college?" Ana asked.
"Yes I do," Michael said. "It is my third year."
"I am a second year," Ana said. "Seems we both started at 19."
"We all start out at some point," Michael said, not knowing what to add.
"Hey Michael," Ana said, looking at him with reluctant eyes.
"Hm?”
"Aren't you afraid to die?" Ana asked.
Michael thought to himself. He had thought of it before, many times in fact in the past. The answer was always a no. But then, it was a regular question. Now, it was close to reality.
"I am nervous," Michael said. "Dying feels so… strange. To think I will die, it makes me feel sad in a sense. I won’t be able to feel, to think. It is very difficult to imagine something like that."
Ana listened. She had her back straight against the metal bedposts. There was worry in her eyes. "Then, why are you doing this?" Ana asked.
It was the easiest question to Michael, but it was also the hardest to utter.
He looked into Ana's questioning eyes. They looked old. Michael knew her situation had a deep effect on her. He found her too young. A 20 years old girl should not be dealing with death. But life never did went the way one wanted. Not even his life.
"Michael," Ana called.
"I am sorry," Michael said, looking out the window. "I would like not to answer that."
The day had dropped into the afternoon. The sun appeared low and Michael saw birds dancing to and fro on the canvas of white and blue.
"I can keep it a secret," Ana said.
"Like your age?" Michael replied with a smirk.
"Hey, let it go already. I am already embarrassed."
"Haha, ok," Michael said. "Well, I, uh, I have to go now if you don't mind."
"Oh, it's okay," Ana said. "Will you come back?"
"Tomorrow?" Michael asked.
"Whenever you can."
"Well… I can come by tomorrow"
"Great."
"Yeah, see you then."
"See you too."
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It was night. Michael lied in his bed, eyes closed. It was silent in his room. There used to be voices in his house. It was in the past and even then, Michael never liked them a lot.
He wondered if Ana was still awake. Was she alone? Had her parents come back? Was she afraid?
These thoughts kept Michael awake throughout the late hours of the night until he finally fell into a dreamless sleep.