“No club social media.”
“No social media.”
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
Rebecca whispered:
“I’ll ask.”
“Good.”
The call ended.
Rebecca remained seated.
Then she laughed.
A strange exhausted laugh.
She had just agreed to ask a children’s hospital how many bikers they could screen for kidney donation.
Life had become absurd.
Dr. Shah did not laugh.
Not immediately.
Rebecca found her twenty minutes later.
“How many volunteers can you test?”
Dr. Shah blinked.
“How many volunteers do you have?”
“I don't know.”
“Rebecca.”
“Possibly a motorcycle club.”
The doctor stared.
Rebecca lifted one hand.
“Long story.”
“How many?”
“I asked first.”
Dr. Shah thought.
“Initial donor interest can be registered online.”
“We can't draw full labs on fifty people simultaneously.”
“Fifty?”
“I said possibly.”
“How many?”
“I don't know.”
Dr. Shah exhaled.
“Have them contact living donor coordinator.”
“Individually.”
“No guarantees.”
“I know.”
“Donor evaluation is confidential.”
“I know.”
“They cannot donate as a group decision.”
“I know.”
“Each person needs independent informed consent.”
“I know.”
“Rebecca.”
“Yes?”
“Do not pressure anyone.”
“I am not even sure I want them here.”
The doctor’s expression softened.
“That helps.”
By that evening, Raymond had the donor coordinator’s number.
By the following afternoon, sixteen men had submitted initial forms.
Then twenty-eight.
Then forty-one.
Rebecca called him.
“What are you doing?”
“Paperwork.”
“Forty-one?”
“Forty-three now.”
“Stop recruiting.”
“I’m not recruiting.”
“Then why are there forty-three?”
“Because men talk.”
Rebecca paced the hospital courtyard.
“You promised no spectacle.”
“It isn't.”
“Forty-three leather vests sound like a spectacle.”
“They won't all come.”
“Good.”
“Some live out of state.”
“Good.”
“Two were disqualified already.”
Rebecca stopped.
“For what?”
“None of my business.”
He was correct.
Donor privacy.
She hated how reasonable he sounded.
“How many are actually coming?”
“Seven Tuesday.”
“Seven?”
“Initial blood work.”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
“Okay.”
Raymond laughed softly.