Part 7 (1/2)

Asakura could not endure this any longer. She felt sick in her stomach and clambered up the stairs to get away from them. Pus.h.i.+ng aside the two, who kept rattling on, she raced up with a sort of desperation.

3.

Mariko was bedridden after the operation, only faintly conscious and still under the watchful eyes of the staff. In her daze, she couldn't even make out how she lay. It felt a lot like putting on gla.s.ses when you didn't need them.

Waking up from anesthesia the day before, Mariko had found herself in a sickroom with fluorescent lighting in the ashen ceiling. She realized she was no longer in the OR, which gave her some relief. A masked nurse came over to her, peered into her face, and called for the doctor.

The nurse's voice resounded in Mariko's ears, making her wince. Forehead throbbed, vision quickly melted. The ceiling faded out of focus, then vanished from sight.

”You can relax, okay? The operation is over,” said a man's voice from somewhere, but it only became part of the growing pain in her skull.

She dropped off to sleep for a few hours afterwards. When she opened her eyes again, two nurses were on either side of her. One of them noticed Mariko trying to lift her head.

”Easy does it. You're still recovering, dear. Sleep some more,” she said. Surely enough, when Mariko tried moving her head, it ached intensely. She laid her head back on the pillow in defeat. She felt hot and dizzy like she had a terrible cold.

Something was sticking into her groin. When she opened her eyes, she saw a nurse fiddling with a tube. Mariko moved her waist a little and felt that the tube led into her body.

Somewhat embarra.s.sed by this realization, she turned her face aside. She then became aware of another one in the left side of her chest. She knew all about these tubes, as they had been used to remove bodily fluids after her previous transplant. The other nurse took her arm and put something black around it. Mariko's arm began to throb with a strong pulse.

”I'm just taking your blood pressure, okay?” said a tiny voice.

The two nurses continued their examination. Mariko closed her eyes and let them do their work. She felt something strange below her navel on the left side, and thought she might try to touch it, but could not since the nurse was still taking her pulse. She wondered if it was her newly acquired kidney.

The kidney.

Mariko opened her eyes wide.

At last she sobered to the reality of her transplant and a flood of memories washed across her mind: the sudden phone call during the night, the hospital, the tests, the blood transfusion, listening to the doctors and nurses as they explained everything to her...

Mariko gathered all her might to speak, but her voice emerged only as a hoa.r.s.e and barely audible whisper. The nurse stopped and c.o.c.ked her head.

”Person who gave me,” Mariko repeated desperately.

”What? Who?”

The two nurses looked at each other, unable to understand her question.

”The person...who gave me...the kidney. What happened. Where...*

”...ah.”

One of them nodded and smiled at Mariko.

”No need to worry about that, okay, dear? The operation went very well. Your donor must be very happy about it right now in heaven. In fact, the person who gave you your kidney says you have to get better as soon as possible.”

”No,” Mariko complained. ”Tell me please... Was this person really dead? Did this person really want to give me a kidney?”

The nurses looked upset. They smiled uncomfortably and tried to smooth things over.

”Alright now. Let's just calm down, okay? You're still feverish from the operation, so...”

Mariko shook off the nurse's hands and screamed as loud as she could, but an explosion of dizziness swarmed in her head and she shut her eyes. Her voice fell to a rasp that she herself couldn't hear.

When she opened her eyes again, her father was at her side. A difficult expression was on his face.

”Everything's fine. The operation went well.”

She forced a smile. He looked a little uncomfortable in his germ-free attire. She could not see his mouth, but his eyes darted around in discomfort, their focus clearly averted from her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

”You're running a fever of about 100 F, which is fairly normal after transplant surgery.

We've given you some medication to make it go down,” said Yos.h.i.+zumi, who'd entered the room along with her father. This doctor was the last person Mariko wanted to see right now.

She clamped shut her eyelids even tighter.

The nurses took turns throughout the day to stay with Mariko and monitor her condition. They took blood pressure and urine samples every hour and regulated her transfusions. On the verge of sleep at almost every moment, she entrusted her body to them.

Yos.h.i.+zumi came in to check her data and talk with her. Mariko did not remember it, he said, but after the operation, she was given a radioisotope-tagged drug and a renogram. These checked whether blood was flowing properly in her newly transplanted kidney. He told her gently that there were no indications of ATN or any infections but that the catheters and drainage tubes would have to be left in just a little longer. Mariko closed her eyes again and pretended not to listen.

Her room was single occupancy, not too large. The doorway was concealed by a protruding section of the wall, behind which there seemed to be some kind of basin for was.h.i.+ng hands and gargling. Before people came in, there was always the sound of splas.h.i.+ng water.

Mariko was fed through a mouth tube. She could not even begin to describe the flavor of the thing, but it was actually tolerable.

”You'll only have to put up with this a little more, then you'll be able to eat tasty stuff again!” a nurse encouraged her. Mariko nodded vaguely. She then recalled an exchange between her and Dr. Yos.h.i.+zumi from two years ago.

...”So I can eat oranges again?”

Mariko was in such good spirits then she was almost embarra.s.sed with herself. She asked about all the edible things she could think of.

”And apples? And potato chips? I can have as much miso soup as I want? And ice cream? Even chocolate?”...

Mariko felt herself urinating intermittently. Because of the catheter, she did not experience the usual discomfort of a full bladder. Instead, her urethra became warm, the catheter felt different, and she could tell that urine was coming out. When she was aware of it, it was all she could think of. It was an odd sensation. For a year and a half, she had never urinated, undergoing three dialyses per week instead. She had trouble remembering what it was like to go to the bathroom or to have the urge to do so.

She had an intermittent dream in which she was sleeping, indeed, in a hospital bed.

Details were hard to make out in the dark room. The door was closed and she had no clue as to what lay on the other side. A pale light shone from the crack underneath it. At least the hallway lights were on. She had to think for a moment about where she was and why she was there before soon remembering being in recovery from transplant surgery. She felt paralyzed, only able to move her hands. She touched around her abdomen gently. Something was palpitating inside her body. Distinct from her heartbeat, something with a life that wasn't Mariko was pulsing on its own. She felt around more carefully, trying her best to guess what it might be. Whatever it was, it seemed to be struggling to get out of her body.

At that moment she heard a flabby sound. Flap...

She opened her eyes and looked around. Nothing felt out of the ordinary. And just when she was ready to pa.s.s it off as a trick of the ears...: Flap.

It came from beyond the door, like the echo of vinyl slippers shuffling along the corridor. Thinking it was just somebody coming to her room, she exhaled in relief, but an instant later knew that wasn't it. The hairs all over her body stood on end. The pace was too slow for a person walking.

And again. Flap... Her hands on her pulsing lower abdomen, Mariko locked her gaze firmly upon the door. The thing inside her seemed to be beating faster now. Flap. Slowly, the sound was drawing near. A cold s.h.i.+ver swept through her. She could hear nothing else, not the wind, not the cars and motorbikes in the street. Only the footsteps and the beating in her body. The footsteps were now just outside the door.