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it would be best of all if that person was a relative. That way, the kidney stands the best chance of being accepted by Dre’s body. If it works, he could have a long, healthy life.”
    â€œAnd if it doesn’t?”
    â€œI don’t want to sugarcoat it for you, Linda, so I’m going to tell you straight up,” says Dr. Wendell. “If Dre’s body rejects the kidney, he’ll stay very sick, and he’ll probably get sicker. We’ll have to do another transplant, which will be hard on him. His immune system is already weak. I’m sorry to tell you this, but you need all the facts. There’s a chance he could die.”
    I reach out for the wall. I need something to hold me up.
    â€œSo the question I have to ask you is this,” says Dr. Wendell. “What relatives does Dre have who have the same blood type and who might be willing to give him a kidney?”

CHAPTER FOUR
    T he search for the answer to that question takes me somewhere I never thought I would go: prison.
    When I was young and stupid, I used to run with whoever made my mama maddest. In those days, that meant a young black boy who was always in trouble with the cops. His name was Terrell. He was lean and handsome, and he always did whatever he wanted. I thought he was a hero, because nobody could tell him what to do. My mama said to watch out, because I couldn’t rely on him. She predicted he would end up in prison. If he got me pregnant, she warned me, I wouldn’t be able to depend on him. I didn’t pay any attention to her. I thought it would be Terrell and me forever.
    Guess what? Terrell knocked me up. He was the first boy I was ever with. Ten minutes of fun for sixteen years of consequences. When I told him there was a baby coming, he dumped me. Then he started spending more time in prison than out. I was a teenager with a baby and no high school diploma. If it wasn’t for my mama, we would have been on the street. And Terrell wouldn’t even have cared.
    That’s why I never visit Terrell. He and I have nothing to do with each other. But that’s not my choice, it’s his. He’s still Dre’s father. He could at least send Dre a birthday card if he wanted to. But he doesn’t even bother. I don’t think he would know Dre if he passed him on the street, even though they both have the same sloping shoulders, the same easy smile.
    So if Terrell won’t give Dre the time of day, why am I crazy enough to think he’s going to give him a kidney?
    Because I have no other choice.
    * * *
    Visiting hours at the prison is the most depressing thing I’ve ever seen. There are lots of families that remind me of myself when I was younger. Young women with small children, sometimes two or three, visiting their men in the big house. What kind of memories will these kids have when they’re grown? How long before they’re slinging drugs on a corner or sitting behind bars themselves?
    I sit at the table, waiting for the guard to call Terrell’s name. Finally the door opens and in he comes. He’s changed a lot. He used to be cool and slick. Now he just looks like a shifty con. He’s the kind of guy you cross the street to get away from. The kind of guy who thinks prison is a career. I can’t believe I ever slept with someone like that. For the millionth time, I wish I could have a do-over. But then I wouldn’t have Dre.
    Terrell looks around. I can tell he wasn’t expecting a visitor. He’s surprised anyone wants to see him at all. I wonder when was the last time that someone came. He spots me, and the look on his face changes to shock. Then he recovers his sense of cool. He comes shuffling over and sits down.
    â€œHey, baby,” he says. “How you doing?”
    Just once, why couldn’t I get called baby by someone I want to hear it from?
    â€œHey, Terrell,” I say. “Long time no see.”
    â€œYeah, no doubt,” he