The doctors told us that the chance of it happening was low. Exceedingly low. She’s a very rare type, they’d tell us. The organ in question is very sensitive, easily damaged, and doesn’t last long after death. These organs, of this type, almost never came on the market. Sarah was at a high spot on the list, but the list meant almost nothing. Most people left it through death, not through a happy ending.
As soon as the doctor told her, Sarah had me on the phone. “They found one!” she all but screamed, and I could hear her excitement as clear as day. “I’m going to get the transplant!”
Of course, we were a bit concerned, as well. This wasn’t a minor surgery, after all. Sarah was going under the knife, and sometimes, we knew that patients didn’t wake up. And yet, we were determined. We were the perfect couple, with the perfect story. We were going to make it.
That was yesterday. The happiest day of my life. Of our lives, perhaps.
And now, today, it was all different.
Once again, I looked down at the note in my hands. I had read it so many times, I probably had the words committed to memory. But still, I couldn’t stop myself from bringing my eyes back to those lines, hand-written on the sheet of loose paper.
I’m so sorry. I know you deserve more than this. More than what I could give you.
But I have to go out, to see the rest of the world. There’s so much more that I want to experience. When I met you, I thought I wouldn’t have any chance, and you were my breath of life, my touch of the outside world.
Now, though, I can go see it all for myself. And I can’t pass that up. Maybe one day, we’ll meet again.
I crumpled the note up in my hands. For a long time, I just sat there, on the empty hospital bed, staring off into the distance.
How ironic, I couldn’t help thinking. The best day of my life, immediately followed by the worst.