Don’t ask Michael, Dad,” Isaac told his father. He sat up in his hospital bed, Rebecca on one side, his mother on the other. His father stood at the foot of the bed. “It’s too much.”
“Of course we’re going to ask him,” his mother said before his father could answer. “And he’s going to do it.”
Isaac turned to his mother. “Why would he, Mom? Why would he allow himself to be cut open and a part of his body removed for me? Tell me why he would do that.”
“He’s your brother,” Rebecca said softly. “That will matter.”
Isaac reached for Rebecca’s hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it. Then he looked deeply into her eyes. “You know him better than we do,” he told her. “So be honest. Would the Michael you know, the Michael who has tried to make my life miserable, do you really think he’d give me part of his liver?”
He watched tears well up in his wife’s eyes and had his answer. He looked to his father, who still hadn’t said anything. “It’s not your fault, Dad,” he said. “You don’t control Michael.”
Abraham cleared his throat. “I know that, but I also know that I haven’t handled things right with him from the beginning. If I had, you two might be as close as brothers should be and this decision wouldn’t be an issue for either of you.”
“You can’t play the woulda-coulda-shoulda game, Dad. It’s a no-winner.”
“We can offer him money, a seat on the MEEG board, whatever he wants,” his mother said. “If he won’t do the right thing out of the goodness of his heart, then he’ll do it out of his own self-interest.”
Isaac shook his head as he smiled sadly in his mother’s direction. “I love you, Mom,” he told her. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. What a silly question.”
“Well, I’m going to say something that may hurt. If the tables were turned and it was Michael Thomas needing the transplant, would you be encouraging me to be tested to be a living donor? If I were a match, would you want me to go through with the transplant?”
His mother didn’t answer, instead looked away. While her answer disappointed him, he appreciated her honesty.
“Somewhere along the line,” he said, “we made Michael and Deborah the enemy. Truth be told, there’s very little difference between them and me. None of us controlled the conditions of our births, yet we’re living under the shadows of those conditions. It’s amazing that I can see that so clearly now but I couldn’t see it before.”
“I’m sorry, Isaac,” his father said again. “So sorry.”
Isaac smiled. “One thing that being sick and feeling your mortality does is give you a bit of clarity. I forgive you, Dad,” he said. “You made a whopper of a mistake thirty years ago but at least you tried to make it right, albeit it took a long time.”
His father wiped his eyes with his hand. “Thank you, son,” he said.
“Don’t thank me,” he said. “I guess it’s the Martin way. It takes us a while to see the error of our ways, but when we do, we make every effort to rectify it.”
“Michael’s a Martin, too,” Rebecca said. “That should give us hope.”
Isaac kissed his wife’s hand again. “I need you to forgive me, Rebecca,” he told her.
Her eyes widened. “For what?”
“For being a self-righteous you-know-what. I do love you and I want to make our marriage work.” Tears flowed down her cheeks. “It’s going to take some time to rebuild the trust between us but I’m willing to work at it if you are.”
“Of course I am,” she said. “Thank you, Isaac.”
“You’re not dying, Isaac,” his mother snapped. “So stop talking like it.”
Isaac laughed. “I know I’m not dying,” he said. “But you have to admit I’ve never been this close to death before.”
“Still,” his mother said, “stop with all the forgiveness. You’ll have plenty of time for that later. Let’s talk about the good times we’ll have when you get out of here. The first thing I think the four of us should do is take a long, a very long, vacation. We’re blessed people and we have a lot to be thankful for.”
“A vacation sounds nice,” Rebecca said. She looked at Isaac. “A getaway would give us some time together.”
“I’m all for going on vacation,” Isaac said, “but what I look forward to once I get out of here is making peace with the Thomases.”
“Please, Isaac,” his mother said. “The boy may not even give you his liver.”
“That’s his right, Mom, but it doesn’t stop him from being my brother, nor Deborah from being my sister.”
“Half brother and half sister,” his mother muttered.
“I want you to promise me something, Mom,” he said.
She eyed him skeptically. “What?”
“I want you to promise to try to get along with them. I know it’s a lot to ask, but we can’t keep going on the way we are. I can’t live in a family at war, and whether you like it or not, Michael and Deborah are my family, too.”
“After what Michael has done to you—”
“If I’m willing to put it in the past, then so can you.”
“I don’t know,” his mother said.
“I do,” he said. “There’s nothing Saralyn Martin can’t do once she sets her mind to it. Set your mind to this, Mom. Do it for me. There’s been too much stress and drama lately. All I want is peace.”
“Amen to that,” Abraham said.
“You all make it sound so simple,” his mother said, “but peace has a price.”