Ephemeral

February 12, 2021 (part1)

[A/N: Trigger warning: please read with care. Some content may be unhealthy for some readers.

PS. I used English language in this story to practice my vocabulary. Should you notice some grammar errors, I'm very willing to be corrected. Teehee.]

Story begins here:

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February 12, 2021.

I looked at my phone expecting to see some messages, but there's none. I'm mad and angry but something on my mind wanted to trust her, thinking that she's just lying and not meaning any of that.

I couldn't help thinking, did she want to send me away for my own good? Did she really want me gone? But her face when I left her shouted otherwise.

What have I done? She needs me the most right now, but I chose to leave her.

But what if she meant all of those?

I finally decided to throw away whatever she said yesterday, we'll deal with that when she recovered, and I started thinking for a way for her transplant.

Well, I know a way. My father.

He had the means and ways to help her, despite the fact that I don't like asking him for help. But I'll do it.

I went to his room-designated for office which was just right below my room. I knocked on the door as I heard him say "Come in." A very nostalgic scent welcomed me as I entered the room I never entered after mom's death. I could see him stared at me in shock as I entered the room, then he shifted back to his usual cold face that would only appear when I'm around. I hate it.

He began writing again on a paper in front of him as if I wasn't there. It has been always like this when it's only the two of us, I feel invisible.

I looked around and it was tidied up the same way as I could remember. The red sofa, although it looked old with its faded red color, was still in a good condition above the same old carpet. The book shelves were in the same place with a small plant on top of it, the plant was a new one but it is in the same old pot. His table and the chairs around it were the same. Even the lamp on his table was not replaced. I could even see a vision of mom sitting on the sofa, waving at me.

I was lost in thought when it was interrupted when dad said, "What do you need?"

I sat on the chair near his table and said, "Do you remember Kimberly?"

He paused for a moment and continued writing. "What's with her?" I opened my mouth to speak but he continued "If you're dating her then go, I don't care who you date. Just remember your responsibilities."

I felt like he likes her as a person, remembering how he treated her back then, so he might as well do his ways to save her. "She needs a heart transplant. And I need your help for that..." I said with a rough breathing.

The room was quiet and all I can hear were my heavy breathing and the ticking of the clock as I wait for his answer nervously, wishing he'd do this favor.

"I can't help her." He immediately said without even giving it a thought.

My blood boiled that I wanted to punch him in his face right away. It's always the same, he's so cold when it comes to me, as if I was never his son at all. I stopped myself from rage and, instead, asked why.

"Let's talk later" He immediately sealed the paper he was writing on and grabbed his case, preparing to go out.

"Dad, please hear me out just this time..." I said following him as he walked out.