Dear World,

this is a story i wrote for composition. austin, you wanted to read it so here it is.

Woman Sells Hubby's Organs In Online Auction

He isn't getting better. My husband Chase has been dead to the world for so long. Our children ask where Daddy has gone. I hate to leave the hospital. I want to stay with my husband but I can't take it anymore. I miss hearing him laugh. I miss gazing into his eyes as the morning sun shines through a crack in the curtains. He is my everything. He saw me when no one else could. I can't give him up. But I have to.

I met my future husband in college. Most people's gazes seemed to flicker over me, almost as if I were the color of air. From as far back as I can remember, I was invisible and I knew it, though it never bothered me in the least. I had all the money and social standing in the world. My parents were the type of people who held fancy dinner parties with porcelain plates and tea cups, and held brunches with caviar. My family was rich beyond belief, and in high school I had used that to my advantage, being snobbish and alienating everyone in my life. Not until college did I sink into my quiet side. But Chase saw me. Heard me. Understood me.

For a research paper on a figure in Greek mythology, I spent many days and nights inside the campus library in a small alcove surrounded by stacks of outdated history texts, candy bar wrappers, and empty Mountain Dew bottles. Chase worked part-time in the library. I suppose I fell asleep one night. He woke me up from my dreams of a great Greek hero, one who slew gorgons and beasts and who looked remarkably like him. He shook my shoulder, gently. “Um, are you awake?”

“Obviously now I am.” I grumbled. I looked up into his eyes, the color of the mildly tossing ocean waves in the Caribbean. A girl could trip and fall hard into those eyes if she wasn't careful.

“You look pretty stressed out.”

“I am. Huge paper for my Classic Civilizations class.”

“Let me take you out and de-stress you.” His smile could make a one million watt light bulb look dim.

It took every ounce of energy I had to stop myself from saying no. This boy had seen me when the rest of the world couldn't. Should I take a risk on that?

Finally, after much begging on his part, I couldn't resist. He was so sweet to me, making me feel (and believe, more importantly) that I was a queen. And slowly but surely, I fell in love.

He had wanted to become a reverend, follow his father's footsteps, though he never did. My husband supposedly had a fear of speaking in front of crowds. How he became one of the top lawyers for one of the largest firms in the state, I never understood.

Chase always talked about what could happen to us, accidents and fatal mishaps. He talked about what would happen to our bodies after our souls had left us when we died. I suppose that he spoke like that because of his father, the all-powerful and imposing Reverend Abraham Daniels. When he spoke like that it always scared me. Every once in a while I would have awful nightmares about the things that could happen to us. I dreamt of car crashes and broken glass flashing as it flew through the air and drove into my loved ones' flesh. I would wake up with tears raining down my cheeks, shaking uncontrollably. I would have to run to my children's rooms and hug them and cover them with kisses.

The worst day of my life was on a Thursday, October 16th. It seems like a blur to me now, but then, it was as if the world had slowed down to one frame per hour. Time seemed to stop. The police called when I went to pick up Sam and Fiona from school. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until I pulled into the driveway and saw the police squad car sitting up by the garage. My heart plunged into my toes. What was wrong? I had no idea. I left Sam and Fiona in the car while I ran up to the door and almost began to cry right there on the doorstep.

A man in a police uniform was standing there with his cap in his hand. He was a state trooper. I remember reading the badge on his chest. He looked up at me with sadness in his eyes.

“Ma'am, are you Mrs. Daniels?”

“Yes. What's wrong?”

“Your husband. Chase Daniels. He was in a car crash this morning. He was hit by a semi truck that crossed the median. He is at Holy Trinity Hospital. I am here to escort you to the hospital.”

It felt like all of the air in the world had been sucked away into deep dark oblivion. I felt my lungs constrict; I was suffocating out there on my front porch! I saw little black spots grow over my field of vision. My heart thundered in my ears and then... “Take me to the hospital. Now,” I growled at the officer.

I sprinted for my car, calling over my shoulder that I was taking my kids to their grandparents' house. The officer followed me down the street as I raced maniacally towards the hospital. Now that I look back, I am surprised that the officer didn't pull me over for speeding and reckless driving.

Once at the infirmary, the policeman had to hold me upright and walk me through the doors. My legs were so weak that I could barely walk. We sat in the waiting room for what seemed like days. The disgusting dirty mint green walls made me sick to my stomach. The chairs felt like they were made of cement. The officer held my hand. His fingers in mine were the only real thing keeping me tethered to the ground. I wanted to run screaming down the hallway, yelling for my husband. I knew I couldn't. My lungs wouldn't work right either. I couldn't draw in enough air to keep up my circulation. Both of my legs had gone numb from sitting in the cold, ugly waiting room, with its peeling paint and drab gray chairs. The woman working behind the desk at the nurse's station kept glancing over at me and the officer. I didn't like the look in her eye, but I couldn't think about that at the time.

I regained the feeling in my legs and then started to pace around the small room. I bite my lower lip when I am nervous and soon I could taste the hot metallic gush of blood in my mouth. The police officer brought me a paper cup of water and I rinsed my mouth out.

I continued pacing, for how long I don't know. It seemed to be just moments. A doctor came down the hallway and stopped in front of me. “Mrs. Daniels?”

My lips couldn't form the answer, and I made an unintelligible noise at the back of my throat. Horrible thoughts were swarming around my head like angry clouds of bees. One thought would touch down for a second and then flit away, so that I didn't have to focus on one thing for too long. The doctor looked at me with sympathy in his eyes. I hated that feeling of inadequacy, that every person who saw me looked down their noses at me. I couldn't stand and didn't want this man's pity.

I cleared my throat and rasped out “Yes. I am Eva Daniels. Where is my husband?”

The doctor took my hand in his and said “Mrs. Daniels, your husband was in a car accident. The accident was not nearly as bad as it looked. The semi driver walked away with a bruised rib. Your husband suffered a couple bruised ribs and a minor fracture in his left wrist”

“When can I see him? I have to see him.”

“There was one other problem, Mrs. Daniels. Your husband hit his head very hard against the back of the seat. His brain was damaged. He is in a coma right now. At this point in time, the prognosis is not very bright. He may never wake up.”

I saw the drab, cold tile fly up to meet me and then warm oblivion surrounded me. I don't know how long I was unconscious. The only thing I do remember is the complete and utter emptiness of my dreams. I walked down dark corridors screaming Chase's name, trying to find him. Every door I tried to open was locked from the inside. I screamed for him until my throat was raw. I woke up screaming my husband's name in a long hospital bed.

A nurse came over to me and said, “Honey, its alright! You are fine. Your husband is down the hall. Come with me.”

Cautiously, I crawled out of the bed, afraid of what I would see, and followed the nurse.

He was lying on a bed, bloody bandages around his head. Clear tubes sprouted out of almost every pore in his body. His eyes were closed, the lids twitching rapidly.

“Chase,” I murmured as my knees gave out under me. I crumpled to the floor and sat there, staring at the man I had given my whole being to. I moved on my hands and knees to the side of the bed. The whirring and beeping of the machines scared me. I touched Chase's hand; it was cold and felt as thin as paper. My eyes traveled to his face. I couldn't hold back the freezing water that was flowing through my veins. My tears cascaded down my cheeks. I climbed into the bed beside my husband and fell asleep with frigid rain still falling, falling on his shoulder.

For a few stolen moments I slept, fitfully. Images of when Chase had proposed to me swam through my sleep. The golden sunlight of the afternoon poured down through the leafy tree branches, turning everything in its path a honey color. Chase laughed at me as I wiped my nose with a tissue. He always laughed when I sneezed, probably because I could shake birds from the trees with how loud it was sometimes! Inside the picnic basket was all manner of desserts that Chase had packed for us. His hand held a vanilla cupcake with beautiful violet icing on top. Sitting in the center of the icing was a delicate gold ring, stars etched along the band.

“Eva Jolene, as far out of your league as I am, I am utterly and irrevocably in love you. I have been from the moment I woke you up in the library. I hate that I have no claim on you at all. I want you. I want you forever and ever until the stars fall out of the sky and crash to earth, which more than likely won't happen in a long, long time.” Here he turned his million watt smile on me. “Will you marry me, Eva Jolene?”

My reaction was to gasp like a fish who has been thrown ashore by an exceptionally violent wave, and is left floundering around on the sand. “Chase,” I eventually managed, “You should have known from the moment you woke me up that we would be together forever.” I slipped my arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Then suddenly I am awake, with a feeling of such loneliness that it is a physical pain, a serrated knife between my rib cage.




~ ~ ~




My parents came to see us later in the evening, that cold October day. They told me that the kids were fine. A part of me didn't even remember that I had children. I sat beside Chase for days on end. For all of those days he never woke up, never made any sign of being aware of his family. I cried so much and so hard that after some time I couldn't produce any more tears. Weeks went past and slowly melted into months and at length, the calendar said, a year. He never woke up. I don't think I woke up either. My mind was in a perpetual fog, until one morning.

I had been visited by lawyers almost every day, most of them trying to speak about my husband's condition. I knew deep in my soul that I would never see my husband's eyes light up again. I knew that I would never get to hear him laugh, that I would never get to have his arms around me. On a Monday morning I made one of the most devastating decisions of my life. Chase had always maintained that when he died his organs would be given to others who needed them. He wanted his life to mean something, to preserve others' lives. I knew what I had to do.

“Mr. Harris, I want the organ donation papers. I need to sign them today. I can't look at my husband anymore. It punches holes in my chest every time I do. I cant stand it.” My voice cracked on the last word, and I feared that I would break down in front of the lawyer.

“I have them with me. And your husband's will. He left everything to you, as you already know, and wants his organs to go to 'people in desperate need of them.' He has left the process of the organ distribution up to you. We just need your signature on this form here.” He pulled a sheaf of papers from his briefcase. “Can I ask what you are going to do with the organs?”

“Oh, I have a plan. A plan to benefit more than one person.”




~ ~ ~




The computer whirred in front of me. I was so scared to do what I needed. I steeled myself and typed in my email address and password. The website popped into view and I couldn't catch my breath. Come on, you can do this, I told myself.

My fingers tapped out a rhythm on the keyboard. A glance down at the checklist on the desk beside me told me that the lungs were up first. Hmm. Should they be $1,000 or $5000? Would someone pay that much? How much should a pair of lungs go for? I had no idea. About $5000 sounded reasonable. I hoped someone would pay that much.

I worked out a system for my husband's organs. Between $4,000 and $5,000 for a major organ, like the lungs and his heart and his liver. Less for his colon and kidneys and pancreas.

His eyes were the first to go. It hurt to watch the bids for my husbands' body flood into the website. My hands shook as the timer on the auction ran down. A man from France had claimed my husband's eyes. He was legally blind and had applied for a transplant but had been rejected.

I took a trembling breath and resigned myself to my decision. Chase hadn't so much as fluttered an eyelid since the accident a full year ago. The doctors had no hope for a recovery. Neither did I at this point. I wept every night for my lost husband and I apologized for giving up. I begged any and all gods to give my love back to me. None of my prayers were answered.

A couple of hours passed, and my husband's kidneys had been claimed by a woman in Turkey. She had had cancer for about two years and was living off artificial kidneys. Sometime around midnight that same day, through the haze of my exhaustion I registered that the computer was letting me know, through a series of irritating beeps, that all of my auctions had run out of time. My husband wasn't mine anymore.

I knew that what I was doing would benefit other people. My husband's sacrifice saved people's lives! That was incredible in itself. But I wanted to keep a piece of Chase for myself. On his right arm, shortly after we were married, he had gotten a heart tattooed in his skin with the words “Eva Forever” inside it. I had asked the doctors if there was a way to preserve it. As disgusting and macabre as it may seem, my husband's tattoo sits in a clear vase on the mantel in the study, a gory memento.

My husband and I had saved eight lives and bettered more than that with the gift of his body. I donated all the money from his organs to the hospital that had helped us through so much in that long, painful year. The memory of my beloved husband is still with me. I tell my children that their father was a hero and keep his legacy in them. I realized that most of Chase had been titled to another person. My husband wasn't mine anymore. I held no claim over him at all. I perceived in my heart that while I had had my husband, I had held a miracle. I was glad for the time we had spent together, even if it had ended too soon. Chase's body was given to strangers who lived in different countries. Chase had always wanted to become a world traveler. I suppose he would now.