The Gift - 1. The Gift

I lay on the operating table, trying to calm myself down as I waited for the anaesthetist to come in and knock me out. This was a nightmare that I wished I could just wake up from, but real life doesn’t work that way. All I could do was pray that everything would work out in the end.

The one question that was constantly running through my mind was whether I was doing this out of love... or guilt?

~*~

“I hate you! You’ve ruined my life and I wish you were dead!”

I sighed as I heard my daughter Evonne’s voice drift through the open window of my study. I looked at the web page I was designing and clicked on the save button. With the kids coming home from school, it was time to end one part time job and take up my other job as at-home parent. I was getting a headache from staring at the screen for too long, anyway.

“Your life’s ruined! What about mine? I’ve still got three more years of school to survive! You finish this year!”

Luke’s angry voice stormed, rather than drifted, through the window.

I rose to my feet to meet Evonne and Luke as they came through the door. My wife was interstate for work, but since I lost my job two months ago, she’s been the main breadwinner of the family. Lynne has to travel with her job, and that’s the price we’re paying to keep a roof over our heads.

Before I could get there, the front door was slammed open and my angry young son came charging through, followed closely by my daughter doing her impression of the tragic princess beset by all the woes of the world.

“Okay, you two. What’s going on?” I asked sternly.

Luke slammed an envelope bearing the school’s letterhead into my chest.

“Here! You can get the rest of the story from Evonne. I’m sure she’ll love to tell you what happened,” he said with heavy sarcasm. “I’m going to my room, to save you the trouble of sending me there.”

After ripping open the envelope, I started to read.

The letter didn’t say a lot. Luke had been suspended for a week for fighting with another student. No reason was given.

Luke is not a violent boy; a fight meant that something unusual had happened.

Concerned, I entered the kitchen looking for my daughter.

“Evonne, the school has said that Luke was in a fight, but they haven’t said why or with whom. What can you tell me?” I asked, trying to keep my tone reasonable.

“Why do I have to tell you? It’s all Luke’s fault, so get him to tell you.”

I frowned. “So, Luke started the fight?”

“That’s what I heard,” she responded sagely. “From what I was told, he deserves everything that happens to him.”

“Evonne, I really need to know what happened today. Please, this is important. Just tell me?”

Something about my concern registered with her. She got off her high horse and started to speak plainly.

“Luke got into a fight after he told Brad Henderson that he’s gay,” she stated bluntly.

I needed to be sure.

“Luke told Brad that Brad’s gay?”

“No,” she replied, annoyed at my apparent stupidity. “Luke told Brad that Luke is gay.”

I’d been pretty sure Luke’s gay for several months. When I set up the home network, I told the kids that if I caught them using the Internet inappropriately, I would take their access away. I never told them that I had set up the system to report all sites visited. I check that report weekly.

When Luke started visiting porn sites, I thought about confronting him about it. When gay porn sites started appearing regularly, I decided not to confront him. Lynne and I then checked each of the sites he’d been visiting. When we found that he was also visiting sites designed to help the young gay teen, we let him go. Until he was ready to tell us, he was being supported via the Internet and we didn’t want to cut that off.

Before I went to confront Like, I went to the bathroom and swallowed a headache tablet. Pausing, I rested my head on the wall. It was going to be a stressful night and I was alone. How I wished that Lynne wasn’t away for work.

As I stood there, something was bothering me. I was beginning to get annoyed at the feeling that something wasn’t right, when I froze in horror.

There were gaps on the shelves where there should’ve been bottles of pills!

I sprinted to Luke’s room. Evonne was just coming down the hallway, but I ignored her. If I was wrong, I’d have a door to mend. If I was right....

“LUKE! OPEN THIS DOOR NOW!” I screamed, as I started to bang on it with my fists.

When I didn’t get an immediate response, I stepped back and started to kick at the lock. Panic was setting in.

I continued to kick the door until the doorframe suddenly splintered and the door flung open.

My nightmare became reality when I saw Luke lying on his bed with his eyes closed, tear streaks down his face. Several empty pill bottles were scattered on the bedroom floor.

With my heart in my throat, I rushed over to him and lifted his head. He appeared to be still breathing, but his skin was an unhealthy colour.

“Call an ambulance, he’s still alive!” I called to Evonne.

With a backward glance, I saw my daughter still stunned in the doorway.

“NOW!” I screamed. I was relieved to see her jump at that and then rush off.

Focusing back on Luke, I struggled to find a pulse. I wasn’t calmed when I found it; fast and weak was not a good sign.

I don’t recall what happened next. It seemed like both an eternity and no time at all before paramedics were taking my boy away. As they lifted him up, I saw my daughter standing silently by the door, tears pouring down her face.

“Princess,” I called out gently, the seldom-used pet name penetrating her distress, “call your mother. Tell her that Luke...,” my voice caught, “... that Luke tried to kill himself. Tell her why,” I finished, barely able to speak as the sobs welled up from the part of my heart where the love for my son has always dwelled.

The hospital was a mess of confusion. I stood back while they treated Luke.

As the activity died down, I was left with my son, who was wired to a maze of equipment that was being watched constantly by a single nurse. Easing my way forward in trepidation, I reached out to place my hand on Luke’s shoulder. He felt cold, and it was only the sound of the heart monitor that gave me assurance that he wasn’t dead.

As I stood there, a doctor approached me and told me that Luke’s kidneys were beginning to fail.

Looking at her name tag, I saw “Anne Preston, Consultant.”

“Dr. Preston...” I started.

“Call me Anne,” she interrupted with a gentle smile.

“Anne, what does that mean?” I asked hesitantly.

“Unless he gets a transplant, he’ll die,” she replied in a quiet voice, the sorrow she felt coming through her eyes.

“Kidney transplants happen all the time,” I stated quickly, almost frantically.

“It’s not that simple, I’m afraid,” she apologised, “There’s none currently available.”

“What about my kidneys? Can you use one of them?” I blurted out.

“Maybe, but I need to warn you that Luke’s body is in shock. He may not survive the transplant surgery.”

“If we don’t try, he’ll die anyway,” I pointed out.

“We’ll get some tests done, and if they’re successful, we’ll take both of you to theatre for the operations,” Dr. Preston stated, her role as an emotionless professional marred by the compassion that poured through her eyes. Without asking, I knew she was a parent, too.

Gently crying, I turned to my son and whispered, “Hold on, Luke. We love you. We’ll do anything we can to bring you back.”

“Let’s go,” I stated firmly, tears cascading unchecked down my face.

~*~

The tests showed we were compatible, and they moved quickly to operate. I woke up afterwards in a ward, with Lynne sitting next me.

“How long have you been here?” I asked hoarsely.

“Not very long. I came straight from the airport and just got here a few minutes ago,” she answered, pouring some water and handing it to me to drink.

After one sip to ease the dryness, I looked up at her.

“Luke?” I asked, pleading for happy news.

She gave me a soft, though worried, smile.

“Evonne is with him. He came through the surgery, but he’s still in intensive care. They said that if he lasts the night, he should make it,” she said gently, as she sponged my forehead with a damp cloth.

“Thanks for coming back,” I whispered.

“Was there any doubt?” she asked with a smile.

“How’s Evonne coping?” I queried.

“She’s devastated,” she answered sadly. “She’s blaming herself.”

“Send Evonne back to see me, please?” I asked, “You need to go to Luke, too.”

“I’ve already seen him,” she admitted. “I’ll go again soon, but Evonne needs her time to make her peace. I don’t think she even remembers he’s gay – he’s just her little brother that she wished was dead,” she ended with a sob. A single glistening tear escaped her control and slid down her cheek.

Reaching up, I grabbed her hand and brought it to my lips. With a gentle kiss on her fingers and a squeeze of her hand, I gave her all the support I could. It wasn’t enough, but it was all I could do.

Bending down, she kissed me lightly on the lips.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I’m going now. I’ll send Evonne to see you.”

Evonne appeared in the doorway soon after. I almost didn’t recognise her. Gone was the arrogant princess, replaced by a frightened little girl.

“Daddy?” she asked tentatively.

She hadn’t called me that for a long time. A blunt “Dad” or a formal “Father” was all I had received from her in recent years.

“Come here, princess. I need a hug,” I called compassionately.

With a sudden rush she was by the bed and throwing her arms around me. A series of sobs shuddered through her body as she let loose a wave of grief.

Eventually, feeling her relax, I let go as she rose unsteadily to her feet. Only a few hours ago she would’ve been concerned about the way her make-up had been destroyed. Now, she didn’t even notice.

“Will he ever forgive me? Can you forgive me?” she cried in anguish and despair.

“Shush, my princess. It’s not your fault. You had just found out something about your little brother and you weren’t ready to handle it,” I explained, trying to soothe her.

“The last thing he heard from me was a wish that he was dead,” she whispered to herself, the horror of what she had said consuming her.

I held her tight. There was nothing I could say.

~*~

It was a night of unsettled sleep.

By dawn, Luke’s vital signs had improved slightly. He still hadn’t regained consciousness, but the doctors said that wasn’t unusual when the body is stressed.

I wanted to curse the fact that I was bed-ridden, but I knew that my discomfort was a necessary part of my son’s chance at life. At 7am, I sweet-talked one of the nurses into getting me a wheelchair so I could go to the ICU. With Evonne and Lynne at my side, I was wheeled into the observation room next to where my son was surrounded by life-support machines. After several minutes, I asked if I could go in to touch him. The nurse in charge of the ICU was a harridan of the old school, but even she knew the depth of a parent's love. With stern instructions to be quiet, she wheeled me in personally.

As I reached out and gently wrapped my fingers around Luke’s left hand, I whispered to him.

“To the boy who is everything I ever wanted in a son.
To the son who is the light of my life.
To the young man of whom I’m so proud.
To the one without whom my life would always be empty.
Please come back to me. I love you and always will.”

With tears blinding me to the sight of my son at the edge of death, I signaled to the nurse that I had finished.

~*~

They brought Luke into my room just after lunch. He was stable, and they were just waiting for him to wake up. The transplant had been successful and while he wasn’t out of the woods by a long way, the signs were all positive.

Lynne and Evonne went home just after Luke was moved. Both were exhausted. I promised I would call if anything changed.

It was almost dinnertime when I was awoken by a low moan from the bed next to me. I waited until he had woken up fully.

“Welcome back, son. Your mother and I love you very much.”

He started and snapped his head around to lock on the sight of his dad in the hospital bed next to him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in a weak and shocked voice.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t do everything we could to keep you alive, Luke?” I gently admonished. “Your kidneys failed from the drugs you took. You now have one of mine, and it’s a gift that I feel pure joy in giving.”

“One of your kidneys?” he repeated hesitantly. “But why?”

“Because we love you, and always will,” I quietly affirmed.

He scowled and turned his head back.

“You won’t feel that way when I tell you I’m gay,” his bitter voice snarled.

“Your mother and I didn’t change our minds when we first found out months ago that you’re gay, so why do you think we’ll change now?” I asked him, praying for him to believe me.

“Months ago?” he asked faintly.

I nodded, giving him a soft smile, “We’ve been monitoring your Internet usage since you started visiting those gay sites. We know more than you think.”

Luke was already pale, but now he looked a little green. “You’ve been....”

“Your mum and I have been discussing this for a long time. Son, we love you for who you are. If that includes your being gay, then we love that too. You are our son, and you are exactly as God intended. You are going to have hurdles to jump that most of us don’t have to endure, but you have your mum and me, and even your sister, behind you.”

As he struggled to understand what I was saying, I added, “You will triumph, we know you will. Don’t be afraid to ask for help when you need it, but we have faith that you are strong enough to overcome the trials you’ll face.

“Son, you are our gift to the world. We’ll always be proud of you.”