Her Regret Came Too Late

Angela Gilbert signed off the life-saving blood I'd banked for seven years and gave it to the daughter of the man she'd grown up with.

Her friends tried hard to talk her out of it.

What about Adam Simmons?

He's got that rare dual-population chimeric blood type. Lifelong high-risk transfusions. Without banked blood, one bad turn and he's a coin flip between living and dying.

Angela was quiet for a long time. When she finally spoke, her voice was very low.

"Edna is Antony's daughter. She's still so young. She needs this blood more than Adam does."

One of them still couldn't stomach it. "But Adam has a hereditary heart condition too. You know better than anyone what it means for him to have no blood in reserve. If it ever flares up, he's dead for certain!"

Angela didn't hesitate.

"It's fine. Adam has never had an episode."

I looked down at the heart failure report still in my hand, and for a moment the world went unreal.

The person who used to be terrified something would happen to me, who begged me over and over to draw my blood and bank it, was Angela.

The person who now, for Antony's daughter, took my life-saving blood without a word to me, was also Angela.

The words in front of me, 'heart failure,' sat there like a quiet joke at my expense.

I turned and went to the front desk to schedule the surgery.

Let fate decide, then.

If I made it through.

Then Angela, let's set each other free.

...

When I booked the heart failure surgery, the nurse's tone turned heavy.

"Mr. Simmons."

"With your rare blood type and long-term anemia, a heart failure surgery carries serious risk. Does... does Dr. Gilbert know about this?"

I said nothing.

Whether Angela knew or not didn't matter anymore.

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

Just before they gave me the anesthesia, Angela called.

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

Behind her voice I could hear the hospital PA, and a man's low, coaxing tone.

She didn't wait for me to answer. "I can't have lunch with you today. Edna isn't doing well right now, Antony's trying to calm her down, and I need to stay here."

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

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

"What?" She clearly hadn't expected me to say something like that.

My voice stayed calm. "I said, Angela, after using up the life-saving blood I banked for seven years, what gives her the right not to be doing well?"

The line went silent.

A long moment passed. Then footsteps, and Angela's lowered voice.

"You already know?"

She drew a deep breath. "Adam, Edna is like you. She has two populations of blood-forming cells in her body, and right now your blood is the only match. She's still so young. I couldn't just let her go."

"Is that so?"

She must have caught something in my tone, because her voice dropped.

"Don't make this more complicated than it is. I'm a doctor. Even if she weren't Antony's child, I would still have saved her."

She said it so righteously, as if she'd forgotten that this was blood drawn out of my body, tube by tube, across seven years.

I asked her, "And what happens to me?"

Angela was quiet for two seconds. When she spoke again she sounded tired.

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

"I have a hereditary heart condition."

"You're not having an episode right now."

She said, "Stop making a scene, all right?"

"A scene?"

I repeated the word after her.

My voice came out hoarse as I reminded her, "Angela, I paid the storage fees on that blood. It was only being held at the hospital, not donated. Without my consent, no one has any right to touch it."

Angela's voice went suddenly sharp.

"Well, the blood's already been used, and there's no getting it back now. So what are you going to do, report me?"

After a short silence, she let out a soft sigh.

"Adam, I don't have the energy to argue with you right now. Let's have a real talk tonight when I'm home, all right?"

When I didn't answer, she pinched the bridge of her nose and added a reminder.

"Your anemia's gotten worse lately. Remember to take your iron tablets when you get home."

Angela knew I was anemic.

She knew I had a hereditary heart condition.

She knew that for the past seven years, I'd drawn 200 milliliters of blood every month to bank.

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

She knew everything.

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

Without so much as asking me once whether I 'agreed.'

I said nothing and hung up.

Just as they were about to give me the anesthesia, a post popped up on my social media feed.

Antony had put up a photo.

In the hospital room, he and Angela were gathered around a little girl, a birthday cake set out in front of her.

The caption read

[Three full blood transfusions later, my Edna finally gets a new life.

Thank you, our precious Dr. Gilbert. We're so lucky to have you.]

Below it were plenty of blessings from mutual friends.

Angela had left him a comment: "Wishing our precious Edna health and happiness forever."

I pressed a hand to my cramping heart.

And all at once my mouth was flooded with something bitter.

In the operating room, I barely made it out alive.

My own anemia was severe, and with no reserve blood, the whole surgery ran on cold machines alone.

Afterward I stayed unconscious for five hours. The doctors nearly called my family in to sign the critical condition form.

When I finally came to, they kept me under observation in the recovery area until almost nightfall before letting me go home.

By the time I got there, I was so wrung out I could barely stay upright.

I braced myself against the doorframe and started to call for Angela.

Then I heard a man's voice, low and smooth, with a teasing edge.

"Dr. Gilbert, when's dinner?"

The words caught in my throat.

After a moment I forced myself upright and opened the door.

Inside, Antony Fox was wearing my slippers, lounging against the couch.

When he saw me, the ease dropped off him and he scrambled to his feet.

"Adam, don't get the wrong idea. Edna woke up today and wouldn't stop crying, she didn't want to stay at the hospital anymore. Angela felt terrible for her, so she said we should all come back together. Don't worry, we won't touch anything in the house."

Angela came out of the kitchen carrying steaming dishes.

"Why are you home so late?"

Her eyes swept over me, but she didn't notice anything wrong.

I said nothing and kept walking toward the bedroom.

Antony hurried over to block my way. "Adam, I'll take Edna and leave right now. Please don't fight with Angela. She did two surgeries today and she's been running around for Edna on top of that. She's really exhausted."

As he said it, he went to grab his suitcase.

He'd taken barely two steps when he broke into a violent coughing fit.

Angela caught him at once, rubbing his back to help him breathe.

"Where do you think you're going this late."

Antony managed a faint pull at the corner of his mouth, his voice dropping low.

"Angela, I don't want to put you in a hard spot."

Angela looked at me, something helpless in her eyes.

"Adam, Edna's afraid of the hospital, but she still can't do without a doctor right now. Having them stay here makes it easy for me to look after her whenever she needs it."

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

"How long is that going to be?" I only asked out of reflex. I'd stopped expecting anything.

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

Our wedding was set for next month.

Which meant that in her mind, even after we were married, I was supposed to give this father and daughter half of our newlywed home.

I lifted my head and met her eyes.

"Stealing the blood I banked for seven years wasn't enough. Now you're bringing the thief in to live in my house too."

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

Her tone went cold in an instant.

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

"They're just staying a while. There's no need to be so aggressive about it."

Aggressive.

I looked away from her, my chest so tight I couldn't breathe.

Angela thought I'd given in, and started giving instructions.

"Edna's going to come out in a minute. Keep your face gentle, don't scare her."

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

Antony's muffled voice came through the door.

"Angela, does Adam really hate me that much?"

"I know I shouldn't be intruding on the two of you, but I've been raising Edna alone through her illness all these years. I really can't hold on much longer."

Angela's voice went very soft.

"He's just under a lot of pressure lately. Don't take it to heart."

I leaned against the back of the door, my fists slowly tightening.

I didn't go out for dinner. I slept a long time on the bed, feverish and half-conscious.

When I woke, I had a high fever.

I went out looking for medicine. Antony had just finished a shower and was shaving with my razor.

He had on my silk robe.

The one Angela had gone out of her way to buy, the matching set we were supposed to wear together after the wedding.

Angela seemed to catch my mood. She came over and lowered her voice to explain.

"It was the only new sleepwear in the house, so I had to give it to Antony. Adam, don't read into it."

I drew my eyes back, a tiredness I couldn't put into words settling over me.

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

She reached out and felt my forehead, her brows drawing together.

"How did you end up with a fever?"

She brought hot water and dug the medicine out of the box.

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

"Lie down for a bit. Once the fever comes down you'll feel better."

She looked after me so naturally.

As if none of the day's conflicts had ever happened.

As if there were nothing wrong with us at all.

But a weak little voice from the doorway smashed that surface to pieces.

"Mom, what are you doing?"

Mom.

What a cruel thing to be called.

Angela's hand froze around the cold towel.

I followed her eyes.

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

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

Angela panicked.

Her voice was tight with worry, but she still forced it down low so Antony and the others wouldn't hear.

"Adam, it's just a word. Edna Fox's never had a mother. She's close to me and she's never had a mother's love, that's the only reason she says it. Don't read too much into it."

I looked at her, my voice hoarse.

"Why is she sleeping in the nursery?"

"Angela, there's another room. Why does she have to sleep in the nursery?"

Angela didn't answer right away.

She set the towel down and quickly scooped up the pouting, hurt-looking Edna, soothing her softly.

"There, there, Mom's here, no more crying."

Then, in the same gentle voice, she comforted a downcast Antony.

I sat alone on the sofa, an outsider who didn't belong.

Like the villain bullying a happy family of three.

Only after she'd calmed them both, closed the door, and shut out every sound did Angela speak.

"Edna loves how dreamy that room is, so I let her stay in it."

"Adam, it's just a room, and she won't be here long. Why react like this?"

There was a tired reproach in her voice when she said it.

I laughed, just once.

Why react like this?

Because that was the room I'd sealed away in grief, after she lost the baby at six months.

Because every single thing in there was a gift I'd placed inside with my own hands, in the depth of how much I missed that child.

Because it was the one place I didn't want that father and daughter to take from me.

My home was no longer my home, and she was asking me why.

I took the heart failure surgery record out of my bag and laid it gently on the table.

"Angela"

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

She went up to Angela, took her hand, and asked, so carefully.

"Mom, can I really live here?"

"Of course you can."

"Daddy said this is my home now, and I can be with Mom every day from now on. Is that true too?"

Antony stiffened.

Angela's eyes went to me on instinct.

I looked back at her.

Waiting to see how she'd answer.

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

"Mm-hmm. This is Edna's home now. Mom will be with you every day, and all the pretty little toys in the room will keep you company too."

I stared at her for a moment, then finally stood up.

I'd just picked the surgery record up off the table when she stopped me.

Angela looked at me.

"Adam, be more understanding."

Understanding.

As those two words landed, the last bit of warmth left my chest.

I didn't look at her again. I walked into the bedroom.

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

Angela followed me in and shut the door.

"Adam, stop this."

"Edna's just a child. Her body hasn't fully recovered. The things Antony and I said"

I cut her off and finished it for her.

"I know. You were only trying to calm her down."

"If you know that, then why the sour face? Why go head to head with a little kid?"

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

Angela realized she'd gone too far. She drew a deep breath and came to hold me.

"Adam, you're still running a fever. Don't sulk. I'll pay more attention to how you feel from now on."

I stepped away.

Her hands hung frozen in the air.

A soft knock came from the doorway. Antony's voice. "Angela, Edna says she wants you to tuck her in. Could you spare a little time?"

Edna was calling for her at the door too.

"Mom, I want to be like the other kids and have a mommy and a daddy sleep with me. Will you come sleep with Edna?"

Angela's brows drew together.

A few seconds later, she took her hands back.

"Get some rest first. I'll come back once she's asleep."

See.

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

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

I gripped the surgery record, then let it go.

I tore it to pieces in front of her and dropped them in the trash.

"It's nothing important."

Angela glanced at me, then left.

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

In that moment even disappointment felt like too much.

Halfway through packing, I sat on the edge of the bed and finally slipped into a heavy, black-out sleep.

When I woke again, work hours had long passed. I came out to find Angela coaxing Edna through breakfast.

Seeing me, she got up and went to the kitchen for the porridge.

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

Edna looked at me, set down her bowl and chopsticks, and pressed in a small voice.

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

A knife went into my heart again. It just didn't hurt as much this time.

Angela froze.

Antony jumped up, alarmed, rushing to explain.

"Adam, it was that bedtime story last nightit had the parents' wedding photos in it, so she thought Angela and I... She still hasn't recovered. We only pretended we'd go take them so she wouldn't get upset..."

Edna listened to him and burst into tears.

"Why is it pretend? Aren't Mommy and Daddy people who love each other? You said last night you'd stay with me forever..."

She cried like her heart was breaking.

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

Her voice went very soft. "Daddy was only joking. Of course we love each other. We love each other and we love you even more."

"There now, no more crying. You're going to be my little flower girl later. If your eyes are all red, the photos won't come out nice."

I stood in the living room, once again the extra person.

Before she left, Angela finally looked at me.

"Adam, get some good rest at home. Wait for me to come back, and we'll have a proper talk."

As if she'd caught some hint of it, she turned back at the door.

"I know you're upset. After the wedding, I'll go with you to Bayshore for the honeymoon."

I said nothing, took the handle, and shut the door.

Outside, Antony's voice was low.

"Angela, you've done so much for Edna and me. What if it wrecks things between you and Adam? He looks like he hates me."

"Don't read too much into it. He's just in a bad mood."

"But he was packing his things last night. What if he really does leave?"

Angela was silent for a moment, then spoke quietly.

"He won't."

Antony paused. "You're that sure?"

"Adam loves me, and he gives in to me. Seven years togetherhe can't give that up."

All my giving in had let Angela hurt me without a shred of fear.

Seven years of love.

It had become her proof that I would never leave.

In that moment, the last thin, foolish thread of reluctance in me crumbled to dust.

I set the packed suitcase down in the entryway.

I called a renovation crew to demolish that nursery.

Then I shut the door and left.

By the time I reached the ground floor, Angela was calling.

There was an edge of panic in her voice. "Adam, Edna passed out."

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

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

Her voice caught hard.

"What do you mean?"

Antony's voice came through the phone, thick with a sob.

"Adam, this is all my fault and Edna's. Don't use a breakup to scare Angela..."

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

It only struck me as bitterly absurd.

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

"Director Gilbert, you had me check the medical records to see whether Mr. Simmons was fit to donate blood."

"The report shows he had heart failure surgery yesterday morning. There was heavy bleeding during the procedure..."