I should talk to Holly alone at some point. To ask her about the donation, of course. Definitely not because I want to try to get a real smile out of her.

“Over the next few months, you will undergo multiple tests to ensure you are healthy enough to donate. You will also submit to mental evaluations, so we know you are emotionally ready to take on this task. You will be counseled on the procedure as well as the potential risks and the recovery period. Do you understand all of this?”

Both Holly and Fred nod.

“Good. Once we finish with those steps, assuming everything goes well, we will schedule your surgeries. Now, you’ve all introduced yourselves to one another, but we like to provide you with this time to get to know a little more about each other. Also, you can decide on how much communication you’d like to have during this process.”

“How much is there normally?” This is from my mother, who keeps smiling at Holly, likely just a step away from hopping over the table and planting a kiss on the girl’s mouth.

Get in line, Mom.

“It differs from case to case,” Dr. Stevens says. “Some decide that meeting once is all they need and don’t converse until the day of surgery. Maybe not even then. Others exchange contact information and actually spend time together. They like the idea of having that connection. It’s really up to you all.”

Well, I know what I want, and it doesn’t involve leaving this room and never getting to see Miss Foster again.

In a strange reflection of my mom, my donor now wears a huge smile. Unfortunately, I’m not on the receiving end of it. That lucky bastard is cousin Fred, who grins right back.

After a beat of silence, I’m about to open my mouth when Holly takes the words from me.

“I understand if you all would prefer not to, but I’d really like to keep in touch. Even if it’s just texting. Or a phone call every so often.” She directs all these words at Fred.

I get the strong urge to remind her that it’s me she’s giving her kidney to.

Then, I notice her hand. It’s not tapping on the table anymore or fiddling with her highlighter. Instead, she has it wrapped around her brother’s wrist, gripping hard. As if to reassure herself that he’s still sitting beside her.

I glance back at my parents and find them both staring at Holly like she’s a magic genie, here to grant them a wish. In a way, she is.

My parents gaze at Holly the same way she’s looking at my cousin, and I can’t fault her for ignoring me.

But I decide that, when she’s done thanking the universe for the gift that is Fred’s kidney, I’m going to make her notice me again.

“You want someone to talk to? I’m your man.” I lean over the table toward her, trying to catch her eye.