Who Gets Cut Open

Caleb: You made it.

Naomi: Barely. Boston’s snowing like it wants to prove something. How’s he doing?

Caleb: Same. Machines say he’s still here.

Naomi: He always was stubborn.

Caleb: You hungry? Cafeteria’s still pretending it’s food.

Naomi: I’m fine. How was the drive?

Caleb: Muddy. Tractor flipped near Miller’s Bend. Usual mess.

Naomi: You still live five minutes from nowhere.

Caleb: And you flew three hours to get here. Guess that makes us even.

Naomi: Let’s walk to Micah’s room. I want to see him.

Naomi: How are Mary and the kids?

Caleb: Mary’s good. Still puts up with me. The kids? Let’s see… Eli’s in high school now, way too smart for his own good, probably got that from you. Jonah’s on the ice every weekend. Plays defense like he’s trying to win the same fight over and over. Ruth’s been learning the flute—whole house sounds like a haunted music box. And little Sadie just turned six. Still thinks I hung the moon. What about you?

Naomi: Same old rhythm. Work, eat, sleep, repeat.

Caleb: This is where he is. We’re still in visiting hours.

Naomi: Caleb, I didn’t come here just to visit. I’m donating the kidney.

Caleb: No, Naomi. You’re not doing this. I’m his big brother. I’ve been here. I am here. It should be me.

Naomi: I already talked to the doctor.

Caleb: Of course you did. You always show up after the movie ends—take the bow, grab the spotlight, leave.

Naomi: That’s not fair.

Caleb: Isn’t it? Where were you when his leg snapped in sixth grade? I carried him to school every day. Or when he had those seizures—Mom cried for days. When he got dumped by that girl—Tess? Tara? I held him while he shook.

Naomi: I helped. I supported.

Caleb: Yeah. From a distance. Wires from Zurich. Emails from Boston. You think money replaces being there? I was sitting next to Mom when she died. You called. That was your part. A goddamn phone call.

Naomi: I was the one making sure Mom had a roof over her head when she died. I paid off the mortgage after Dad passed. I covered Micah’s tuition. I kept the damn lights on, Caleb.

Caleb: And I kept him going. Every night. So yeah, maybe it should be me.

Naomi: I was in Sudan. Running trials, saving lives. Why does that still piss you off?

Caleb: Because—

Naomi: Because I left? Because I got out? You want to tally points? Fine. While I was grinding through med school and labs and fifteen-hour shifts, you were getting drunk at the quarry with those bastards, hunting on weekends, ghosting everyone. You got someone pregnant, remember? And everyone just nodded like it was meant to happen.

Caleb: That was a lifetime ago, Naomi. I changed. I’m a dad now. I fix air conditioners. Not sexy, I know, not Boston glamorous, but it’s stable. What about you? Still living in that glass box? Who’s in your bed this year—Laura? Emily? Claire? Is that a life?

Naomi: You think I don’t feel things?

Caleb: I think you wait to feel things until it’s safe. In hospitals. With forms to sign.

Naomi: Screw you.

Caleb: Sorry. That was too far.

Caleb: Naomi, you’re—what, on a research board now? You can’t risk that. I take a few weeks off, nobody dies.

Naomi: If there are no complications, Caleb. Your kids need you. Your wife needs you. I have less to lose. That’s why it should be me.

Caleb: You really want this? You’ve got your career. Just keep doing that. Drop in once a year, bring something fancy for the kids. I make a roast, crack open a beer, we smile. But let’s not pretend. You’ve never invited us to your place. Not once.

Naomi: I'm…

Caleb: Busy. I know. You’ve got your ladder, and you’re still climbing. You don't have time for people.

Naomi: I’ve been living with Anna for two years now.

Caleb: Anna?

Naomi: She’s a barista. Sweetest soul I’ve ever met. Bakes bread. Loves dogs. Wants to foster kids. She’s grounded in all the ways I’m not. She slows me down. She remembers the names of neighbors’ dogs. Plans weekend trips. I used to think that kind of life was small. Now I think it might be the only thing that matters. I love her.

Caleb: Huh. I didn’t know.

Naomi: You still have that weird picture in your head, don’t you? Like it’s all about sex or rebellion or some story you made up. Don’t hang that on me anymore.

Caleb: Guess I never really pictured you... settling down. But maybe that’s on me.

Naomi: I’ve been thinking of leaving the city. Leaving my job. Moving back with Anna. I’ve saved enough to start something small. Something slower. This—this might be the push I needed.

Caleb: You? Really? Running a place here? You’d chew these guys up by Tuesday and get bored by Wednesday.

Naomi: Maybe. Maybe the donation is a gesture. A way to ask Micah to forgive me. For not being here.

Caleb: Maybe you’re right. Maybe it should be you.

Naomi: Or maybe not. You’re closer to him. If I do it, it might look like theater. Like I flew in for applause. Just like you said. He wouldn’t expect it from me. Not anymore.

Caleb: I was angry. But maybe I was wrong. You did more than I let myself admit.

Naomi: And you stayed. You held the line.

Caleb: I didn’t get to leave, Naomi. You think I wouldn’t have? But someone had to stay. Someone had to hold the pieces. Some of it was duty. Some of it was cowardice.

Naomi: I know. I do. And if Micah dies, I can’t pretend anymore that I have a home to come back to.

Caleb: Remember when he built that cardboard rocket in the garage?

Naomi: With duct tape and lawn chair cushions.

Caleb: Said he was going to Mars.

Naomi: He dared me to sit in it.

Caleb: You did.

Naomi: You lit it on fire.

Caleb: He said it needed launch flames.

Naomi: You always listened to him.

Caleb: Yeah. I still do.

Naomi: And that haircut. The one with the bangs.

Caleb: With safety scissors and no mirror.

Naomi: In the garage, under a bare bulb, like it was surgery

Caleb: He said it was “a statement.”

Naomi: It was. A cry for help.

Caleb: Mom took one look and buzzed the whole thing off.

Naomi: Then made him wear a hat until it grew back.

Caleb: He said he was in mourning.

Naomi: For what?

Caleb: His dignity.

Naomi: And what about the hamster?

Caleb: Oh god.

Naomi: He named it Aristotle.

Caleb: Tried to teach it sign language.

Naomi: And when it died—

Caleb: Funeral. Shoebox. Full eulogy.

Naomi: In Latin.

Caleb: From a Google printout.

Naomi: I miss that ridiculous little genius.

Caleb: The hamster or Micah?

Naomi: …both.

Naomi: Does he have a girlfriend?

Caleb: Not that I’ve heard. No one serious since Tara.

Naomi: Maybe what he needs is a sweet, nerdy boyfriend.

Caleb: Naomi…

Naomi: Kidding. Mostly.

Caleb: You and that mouth. Remember family dinners? Dad would chuckle, Mom would scowl, and Micah—Micah just looked like he was decoding a foreign language. You could always surprise us.

Naomi: Chickens.

Caleb: What?

Naomi: Chickens. Anna wants chickens. Coop, garden, porch swing. The whole pastoral fantasy. And dogs. Big ones.

Caleb: You? With chickens? Can you even garden?

Naomi: I kill succulents. Cacti don’t last long around me either. But maybe I could learn.

Caleb: You’d really come back here?

Naomi: I think I want to.

Caleb: Something change?

Naomi: Not really. Just got tired. After Mom and Dad… I started wondering if this was it. Just work and sleep and deadlines.

Caleb: So it wasn’t Anna?

Naomi: No. But looking for something different—that’s how I found her. Best thing I ever stumbled into. A few years ago, I wouldn’t have seen her. Wouldn’t have seen any of it. Getting old, I guess.

Caleb: For what it’s worth… I’ve been studying recently. Night classes. Thinking of starting my own HVAC company. The guy I work for is a prick. Clients complain all the time. I could do it better.

Naomi: As long as you don’t name it “Caleb’s Cool Air,” I might be your first investor. Just don’t screw it up.

Caleb: You’d seriously invest?

Naomi: I could do your books. Set up your site. Not everything has to be charity.

Caleb: Are we still fighting over who gets cut open?

Naomi: Hell, yeah. Like it’s some kind of trophy.

Caleb: You think Micah would laugh?

Naomi: Then cry. Then make us both coffee.

Caleb: This is stupid.

Naomi: It really is.

Caleb: He wouldn’t care who did it.

Naomi: He’d tell us to shut up and pick one.

Caleb: Yeah.

Naomi: Yeah.