Born As Kidney Donor For My Sister

“Mom, maybe we didn’t tell her we were leaving. She’s probably sulking. We can make it up to her when we get home,” Allie said, gently shaking Mom’s hand in reassurance.

“That’s my Allie, so well–behaved, unlike that wild girl. Make it up to her? She should be lucky if she doesn’t have to spend the entire night in time–out. Forget her for now. Allie, come see the photos I took for you. Do you like them?” Mom, happily hugging Allie, looked at the Added to the library casting me aside.

Even though I was dead, I still felt a pang of bitterness rise within me at Mom’s scolding. I couldn’t understand why, despite living obediently for eighteen years according to their commands, Mom still saw me as a bad person.

I followed them back home. As I opened the door, the house was clean and tidy, just as it had been when we left. The layer of dust on the table, however, showed that no one had been home for a while.

“Could it be that she hasn’t come home? Could she still be at the hospital? Let’s go pick her up,” Allie suggested, puzzled.

“Go where? No, we’re not going! If that wretched girl isn’t coming home, she can stay away for the rest of her life! We’ve been providing for her, and now that she’s out of the hospital, she still dares to run away? Let her stay away as long as she wants–ideally, forever!” Mom erupted at the thought of me not being home. Her anger was uncontrollable, and both Dad and Allie

stopped trying to reason with her.

But Mom, this time I really can’t come back. You should be satisfied now.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

The next morning, Dad, feeling guilty, came to the hospital hoping to bring me home.

At the nurse’s station, he asked, “Where is the patient from bed 25?”

“Are you a family member?”

“Yes.”

The nurse gave Dad a sympathetic glance and said, “Please follow me.”

Dad, confused, followed the nurse until they reached the morgue. He stopped in his tracks, staring incredulously at the sign, trying to comfort himself:

“It can’t be. She must be hiding here, playing at running away.” Even now, Dad was still in denial. I wondered if he would be pained or frightened upon seeing my body.

The nurse lifted the sheet covering me. When Dad saw my lifeless corpse, he collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

So, Dad did care about my death. Seeing this, I felt a bit of happiness–at least someone cared about me.

The nurse, with pity in her eyes, said, “The patient died from a post–surgical infection. If the family had been more attentive, this might have been avoided. Please accept my condolences and take care of the arrangements.”

The nurse’s words were like another knife to Dad’s heart. He looked at me, his voice trembling, “If only I had brought you water, Fairy, you wouldn’t have died. It’s my fault. Please, come back to life.”

But how could a corpse speak? I could only reach out to Dad in a faint, ghostly embrace, hoping to ease his sorrow.

Dad cried for a long time, finally composing himself, and called Mom to come to the hospital.

“I’m out shopping with Allie. She can come or go as she pleases. Don’t call me” Mom’s voice was impatient on the other end.

“Fairy has died,” Dad said, trying to hold back his tears.

There was a moment of silence on the other end before Mom’s sharp voice pierced through, “Sean Romero, don’t try to play games with me. I know her well enough. Trying to gain sympathy with your theatrics won’t work. If she’s really dead, then good riddance!” She hung up the phone.

Dad tried to call back, but the line was busy.

Though I had grown accustomed to Mom’s harsh criticisms over the years, hearing her say I was better off dead made my heart ache.

Now that I was truly gone, Mom should be satisfied. I managed a bitter smile.