His Awakening Came Too Late

Duane Stephens gave away the life-saving blood I'd stored for seven years to the daughter of his childhood friend.

His friends tried hard to talk him out of it:

What about Serena Vaughn, then?

She has that rare dual-population chimeric blood type. Lifelong transfusion risk. Without stored blood, one emergency and she's dead.

Duane was silent for a long time. In the end he said quietly,

"Josie is Alma's daughter. She's still little. She needs this blood more than Serena does."

Someone still couldn't accept it. "But Serena's five months pregnant now. You know better than anyone what the risk is without stored blood. If she hemorrhages, that's two lives gone!"

Duane didn't hesitate.

"Then she can hold off on the baby for now. Serena always listens to me."

I lowered my head and looked at the prenatal report I'd just been handed, and everything suddenly felt unreal.

The one who used to be terrified something would happen to me, who begged me over and over to draw blood and bank it, was Duane Stephens.

And the one who now, for Alma Fox's daughter, took my life-saving blood without a word to me was also Duane Stephens.

The words in front of me, 'Twins viable,' read like a quiet mockery.

I turned and went to the front desk to book an induced abortion.

Fine. I'd do it his way. No baby.

And no him, either.

When I booked the procedure, the nurse's tone turned grave.

"Are you sure about this?"

"With your blood type and your long-term anemia, an induced abortion carries real risk. Does does Dr. Stephens know about this?"

I nodded and only said, "Yes. I'm sure."

Whether Duane knew or not didn't matter anymore.

From the moment he took the blood I'd stored for seven years, a knife had been hanging over my head.

Right before the anesthesia, Duane called.

"Serena, a colleague said they saw you at the hospital. Did you come to have lunch with me?"

Behind him I could hear the hospital PA system, and a woman's voice, low and soft, coaxing someone.

He went on before I could answer. "I can't have lunch with you today. Josie isn't doing well right now. Alma's calming her down, and I need to stay here."

I sat in the empty waiting area, looking at the pre-surgery risk consent form in front of me.

I asked him, "What gives her the right not to be doing well?"

"What?" He clearly hadn't expected me to say anything like that.

My voice was very calm. "I said, Duane, after burning through the life-saving blood I stored for seven years, what gives her the right not to be doing well?"

The other end went silent.

A long moment later, footsteps, and then Duane's voice, dropped low.

"You already know?"

He drew in a deep breath. "Serena, Josie is like you. She has two hematopoietic cell populations in her body. Right now, only your blood is a successful match. She's still so young. I couldn't just not save her."

"Is that so?"

He seemed to catch something in my tone, and his voice went quieter.

"Don't make this more complicated than it is. Even if she weren't Alma's child, I'd have saved her all the same."

He said it so righteously, as if he'd forgotten that this was blood drawn out of my body one tube at a time over seven years.

I asked him, "Then what about me?"

Duane was quiet for two seconds, his voice tired.

"Serena, you're perfectly healthy right now."

"So?"

He said, "So stop making a scene, okay?"

"A scene?"

I repeated the word softly.

I reminded him, "Duane, I paid the storage fee for that blood. It's only being kept at the hospital, not donated. Without my consent, no one has the right to touch it."

Duane's voice suddenly rose a notch.

"The blood's been used now, it can't be drawn back out. So what are you going to do, report me?!"

After a short silence, he rubbed the space between his brows.

"Serena, I don't have the energy to fight with you right now. Let's talk it through properly when I get home tonight, okay?"

When I said nothing, he sighed and added a reminder.

"Your anemia gets worse in the second trimester. Remember to take your iron tablets when you get home."

Duane knew I always got anemic when I was pregnant.

He knew that over the past seven years, I'd had 200ml of blood drawn every month to bank.

He knew how rare the dual-population chimeric blood type was, how hard it was to match with any other blood.

He knew everything.

And still he gave away the life-saving blood I'd stored for seven years.

Never once asked me whether I agreed.

I didn't say a word. I just hung up.

As they were about to give me the anesthesia, a post popped up in my social media feed.

Alma had put up a photo.

In a hospital room, she and Duane were gathered around a little girl, a birthday cake in front of them.

The caption read

[Three full blood exchanges, and my Josie is finally born again.

Thank you, dear Dr. Stephens. It's so good to have you.]

Below it, plenty of mutual friends had left their blessings.

Duane had commented, "Wishing baby Josie health and happiness forever."

I touched my rounded belly.

And all at once there was a bitterness in my mouth I couldn't stand.

Coming out of the surgical room, I bled far more than the others.

They kept me in the recovery area under observation until almost evening before they let me go home.

Severe anemia on top of the heavy blood loss after the procedure. By the time I reached my door, I was so drained I could barely stay upright.

I braced myself against the door frame and was about to call for Duane.

Instead, the first thing I heard was a thin, faintly coaxing woman's voice.

"Dr. Stephens, when are we eating?"

My voice stuck in my throat.

After a moment I forced myself to push the door open.

Inside, Alma was wearing my slippers, lounging sideways on the couch.

The moment she saw me come in, her ease vanished and she scrambled to her feet.

"Serena, don't misunderstand. Josie woke up today and wouldn't stop crying, she didn't want to stay at the hospital, and Duane couldn't bear it, so he brought us here. Don't worry, we won't touch anything of yours."

Duane came out of the kitchen carrying a steaming dish.

"Why are you home so late today?"

His gaze passed over me, but he noticed nothing wrong.

I said nothing and kept walking toward the bedroom.

Alma hurried over and caught my arm. "Serena, I'll take Josie and leave right now, please don't fight with Duane. He did two surgeries today and he's been busy with Josie the whole time, he's really exhausted."

As she spoke, she went to get her suitcase.

She'd taken barely two steps when she swayed, unsteady on her feet.

Duane caught her at once. "Where do you think you're going this late?"

Alma dropped her eyes, her voice going very low.

"I don't want to upset Serena."

Duane looked at me, something helpless in his eyes.

"Serena, Josie's afraid of the hospital, but she can't be away from a doctor right now. Having them stay here makes it easier for me to look after her anytime."

"Once she's doing better, Alma will take her home."

"How long will they stay?" I asked it flatly, expecting nothing anymore.

He thought about it, then told me, "Probably two or three months."

Duane and I were supposed to get married next month.

Which meant that in his mind, even after the wedding, I was supposed to hand half the marriage home over to this mother and daughter.

I tugged at the corner of my mouth and met his eyes.

"Stealing the blood I stored for seven years wasn't enough. Now you're moving the thief into my home to stay."

"Duane, do you have any respect for people at all?"

His tone turned cold at once.

"Serena, that's an ugly thing to say."

"They're only staying a while. There's no need to be this aggressive."

Aggressive.

I looked away from him, my chest so tight I could barely breathe.

Duane thought I'd given in, and started coaching me.

"When Josie comes out in a bit, keep your expression gentle. Don't scare her."

I didn't answer. I turned and went into the bedroom.

Through the door came Alma's soft crying.

"Duane, does Serena really hate me?"

"I know I shouldn't be intruding on the two of you, but raising Josie alone, I'm honestly afraid I won't be able to hold on."

Duane's voice went very soft.

"She's just under a lot of stress from the pregnancy. Don't take it to heart."

I leaned against the back of the door, my fingertips tightening bit by bit.

I didn't go out for dinner. I lay in bed and slept in a heavy daze for a long time.

When I woke, I had a high fever.

I went out to find medicine, and Alma had just finished a shower and was drying her hair.

She had on my satin robe.

The couple's sleepwear I'd bought, saved for after Duane and I were married.

Duane seemed to catch my mood. He came over and lowered his voice to explain.

"It's the only new robe in the house, so I had to give it to Alma. Don't read into it."

I pulled my eyes away, a weariness I couldn't put into words settling over me.

It wasn't until I opened the medicine box that he noticed something was off with me.

He reached out and felt my forehead, his brows drawing together.

"How did you end up with a fever?"

He brought over hot water and had me take the medicine.

Then he went to the kitchen to make congee, and brought a cold towel to press against my head.

"There now, once the fever comes down you'll feel better."

He took care of me so naturally.

Soothed me so naturally.

As if none of today's conflict had ever happened.

As if there were nothing wrong with us at all.

But the weak little voice that came from the doorway shattered that surface in an instant.

"Daddy, what are you doing?"

Daddy.

What a cruel little word.

Duane's hand froze around the ice-cold towel.

I followed his eyes.

Alma's daughter had come out of the nursery, a fuzzy stuffed animal hugged to her chest.

I traced her figure back into the room, and my eyes suddenly stung.

Duane panicked.

There was an edge of urgency in his voice, but he still forced it low, so Alma and her daughter wouldn't hear.

"Serena, it's just a word. Josie's never had a father. She's close to me, and she's missing a father's love, that's the only reason she says it. Don't read into it."

The tears came without permission, falling one drop at a time onto the back of my hand.

I looked at him, my voice raw.

"Why is she sleeping in the nursery?"

"Duane, there's another room right there. Why let her sleep in the nursery I decorated with my own hands?"

He didn't answer right away.

He let go of me and hurried to scoop up the sulking, pouting Josie, murmuring to soothe her.

Then, in the same gentle tone, he comforted a red-eyed Alma.

I sat alone on the couch, like an outsider who didn't belong there.

Like the villain bullying their little family of three.

Only after he'd settled them and shut the door, sealing off every sound, did Duane speak.

"Josie likes how dreamy it looks in there, so I let her stay in it."

"Serena, it's just a room, and she won't be here long. Why such a big reaction?"

There was a tired reproach in his voice when he said it.

I laughed, once, without meaning to.

Why such a big reaction?

Because it was the room I'd put together with everything I had.

Because everything in it was supposed to belong to my child.

My home wasn't my home anymore, and he was asking me why.

I took the induced abortion paperwork out of my bag and set it lightly on the table.

"Duane"

I'd barely started when Josie opened the door and walked out.

She came up to Duane, took his hand, and asked, careful and small.

"Daddy, can I really live here?"

"Of course you can."

"Mommy said this is my home now. Does that mean I get to be with Daddy every day? Is that really true too?"

Alma went stiff.

Duane's eyes went to me on instinct.

I looked back at him.

Waiting to hear how he'd answer.

Two seconds passed. He looked away from me and ruffled the girl's hair, doting.

"Mm. This is Josie's home from now on. Daddy will be with you every day, and all those pretty little toys in your room will keep you company too."

I stared at him, dazed, for a while, then finally stood.

The moment I picked the abortion paperwork up off the table, my hand was seized.

Duane looked at me.

"Serena. Be reasonable."

Be reasonable.

The moment those two words landed, the last bit of warmth in my chest went out too.

I pulled free of him and walked into the bedroom.

I took the suitcase out of the closet and started packing.

Duane followed me in and shut the door.

"Serena, stop this."

"Josie's just a child, she hasn't recovered yet. Those things I said with Alma"

I cut in and finished it for him.

"I know. You were only saying it to soothe her."

"If you know, then why put on that face? Why hold it against a little kid?"

The moment the words were out, the room went dead silent.

Duane realized he'd gone too far too. He drew a deep breath and moved to hold me.

"Be good. You're pregnant and running a fever, don't sulk over this. I'll pay more attention to how you feel from now on."

I stepped aside.

His hand froze in midair.

A soft knock came at the door, Alma. "Duane, Josie says she wants you to tuck her in. Can you spare a little time?"

Josie was calling for him from the doorway too.

"Daddy, I want to be like the other kids and have my mommy and daddy put me to sleep. Will you come sit with me, please?"

Duane's brow drew together.

A few seconds passed, and he took his hand back.

"Rest for now. I'll come back once she's asleep."

Look.

This was what he meant by paying attention to how I felt.

He walked to the door, then seemed to remember something. "What's that paper in your hand?"

I clenched the induced-abortion form in my fist, then loosened my grip.

Right in front of him, I tore it to pieces and dropped them in the trash.

"It's nothing important."

Duane glanced at me and left.

The room tilted. Drained, I sank slowly into a crouch.

In that moment, even disappointment felt like too much.

Half through packing, I sat down on the edge of the bed, and finally the haze pulled me under.

When I woke again, it was long past the time I should have left for work. I came out to find Duane coaxing Josie through breakfast.

Seeing me, he got up and went to the kitchen for a bowl of porridge.

"You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't want to wake you."

Josie watched me, slowly set down her bowl and chopsticks, and prodded in a small voice.

"Daddy, I'm done eating. You and Mommy take me to get the wedding photos taken, okay?"

My heart pricked like a needle had gone in, but it didn't hurt the way it used to.

Duane went still.

Alma jumped up in a panic and rushed to explain.

"Serena, the bedtime story we read Josie last night had a picture of the parents' wedding photo, and she thought Duane and I she's still not fully recovered, so we only pretended we'd go take them, just so she wouldn't get upset"

Listening to her, Josie burst into tears.

"Why is it pretend? Aren't Daddy and Mommy in love? You both said last night you'd always stay by Josie's side"

She cried her heart out.

Duane was quiet for a moment, then finally crouched down to soothe her.

His voice went very gentle. "Mommy was only joking. Of course we love each other. We love each other, and we love you even more."

"There, don't cry. You're going to be our little flower girl soon, and if your eyes get all red from crying, the pictures won't look nice."

I stood in the living room, once again the one who didn't belong.

Before he left, Duane finally turned to me.

"Serena, rest up at home. Wait for me to come back, and we'll have a proper talk."

As if some feeling caught him, he turned back again at the door.

"I know you feel wronged. After the wedding, we'll go to North Harbor for our honeymoon."

I said nothing. I gripped the handle and shut the door.

Outside, Alma's voice was low and dispirited.

"Duane, with everything you're doing for me and Josie, won't it ruin what you have with Serena? She looks like she hates me."

"Don't read into it. She's just throwing a little fit."

"But she was packing last night. What if she really means to leave you?"

Duane was silent for a moment, then said quietly,

"She won't."

Alma paused. "You're that sure?"

"Serena loves me, and she gives in to me. Seven years together. She can't bring herself to walk away."

All my giving in was what let Duane wound me without a shred of fear.

Seven years of love.

Turned into his proof that I would never leave.

In that moment, the last thin, foolish thread of reluctance in me shattered into powder.

I set the packed suitcase in the entryway.

I called a renovation crew to tear out the nursery.

Then I shut the door and left.

When I reached downstairs, Duane called.

His voice carried an edge of urgency. "Serena, Josie fainted."

"She's in the waiting room now. We're not sure yet if she'll need a transfusion. Come to the hospital right"

I cut him off. "Duane, let's break up."

His voice stopped dead.

"What do you mean?"

Alma's voice came through the phone, thick with tears.

"Serena, it's all my fault and Josie's. Don't use a breakup to scare Duane"

I looked at the wedding photos she'd posted to her feed half an hour ago.

It struck me as nothing but a bitter joke.

Duane was about to speak when a hurried voice broke in first.

"Dr. Stephens, you had me check the medical records to see whether Ms. Vaughn is eligible to donate blood."

"The report shows she had an induced abortion yesterday morning, and it triggered severe hemorrhaging afterward"