Page 31 of Wild Card
Maybe I’m just in a bad mood because of the lousy, green beer I’m drinking across from Clyde at a narrow high-top table.
“I don’t think you should be drinking,” I say.
The man ignores me, taking a healthy guzzle of his beer while looking around the Reach. Doris has decorated, and it looks like a bunch of leprechauns exploded all over the place. Even the windows have slimy, green jelly cut-outs on them. They’re gross.
“Meh. You only live once, Sebastian. And I don’t think it will be that long for me. Let me enjoy my swamp beer. Can’t make my kidneys any worse than they already are.”
Clyde has been on the transplant list for some time now—and it’s not looking good. As much as I grumble about the guy, the prospect of losing his annoying ass is more than I can take right now.
I swallow hard and glance away. My eyes catch on his wheelchair in the corner. He’s gotten so weak that walking has become difficult. I can tell that he’s tired.
For his sake, I try to stay positive.
“I still think a donor could come through.”
Clyde shrugs, a soft smile curving his lips. “Maybe,” he says noncommittally. And I don’t like the way it sounds. The way he’s watching everyone, taking it all in as though this might be his last St. Patrick’s Day.
Suddenly, his request for me to take him out tonight feels…bleak. It makes me realize that there probably will be a last time I pick him up. There will be a last beer we share. A last eye roll he shoots me. And I might not even recognize the moment for what it is.
I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been wallowing in misery for months or if it’s a reaction to the toxic levels of Green No. 3 in my beer, but I blurt out my next words without thinking.
“I think we should see if I’m a match.”
Clyde laughs and slaps me on the shoulder. “That’s a mean joke, ya little shit. I like it.”
I blink, gears turning in my head, before shifting on my stool to face him. “I’m not joking. I’ve got two working kidneys and nothing but time on my hands right now. Wouldn’t hurt to check.”
Clyde spins the pint glass between his hands, assessing me from beneath furrowed brows. As though searching for some proof that I’m bullshitting him. “That’s ridiculous,” he grumbles.
I shrug. It probably is, but here I am, offering it all the same. “I could use a little good karma, Clyde.”
He rolls his eyes. “Only you could make giving me a kidney about yourself.Oh please, Clyde, let me give you a kidney so I can feel better about myself,” he teases in a whiny voice.
I scoff. “You know what, maybe I should just let you die.”
“At least then I wouldn’t have to spend all my free time with a guy who cries as he masturbates while thinking about his son’s ex-girlfriend.”
My head falls back as I glare up at the ceiling. “Get fucked, Clyde.” Then I pause and turn back to meet his watery, blue eyes, the whites of which look awfully yellow these days.
A word sticks in my head as I stare back at him. In an instant, my throat goes tight, my palms sweaty.
“Did you sayex-girlfriend?”
Now the older man laughs and shakes his head, like I amuse him greatly. “Caught that, did ya? You little pervert.”
I should be embarrassed by how quickly I latched on to this tidbit, but my desperate curiosity prevents me from overthinking it.
“Clyde, for fuck’s sake, I’m trying to give you an organ, and you’re sitting here shit-talking me to my face.”
He smacks his lips. “Someone’s gotta do it. You’re more depressing than I am, even though I’m the one who’s dying. Surprised you’re not offering me both kidneys with how goddamn emo you’ve been lately.”
I freeze at that, jaw working as I assess the man. “Wait. Are you hanging out with me as some sort of good deed?”
Clyde glances away. “Why else do you think I’m out drinking stupid green beer with you? There are security cameras all over this place, and I’m pretty sure Doris is an undercover agent.”
My mouth pops open and stays that way. I thought I was here doing Clyde a favor when he’s the one extending a pity invite to his loner friend on St. Paddy’s Day.
I don’t want to fixate on that part, so I parry it aside with, “You think Doriswhat?”
