“Test me.”
Thad looked up sharply.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
Marisol squeezed my hand.
“We would never ask you.”
I believed her.
That sentence became the second lie.
Tests followed.
Blood type.
Tissue typing.
Crossmatching.
Psychological interviews.
Independent donor counseling.
Then Dr. Oay called me into her office.
“You are an unusually strong match.”
“How strong?”
She smiled.
“Stronger than we often see between unrelated donors.”
At the time, I laughed.
“Maybe Lenora and I were supposed to meet.”
Dr. Oay did not laugh.
She stared at my chart for an extra second.
I noticed.
But I did not understand why.
Not yet.
The tablet Dr. Oay held beside my hospital bed displayed an old laboratory report.
I recognized my name.
CORALY ASHWORTH.
Below it was a date.
I stared.
“That can’t be right.”
“I thought the same thing.”
The report contained tissue markers.
Blood group.
