silent

51

• AMALIA •

Two days of not talking passes excruciatingly slow. When my dad wakes me up on the morning of my surgery, I'm too nervous to talk even if I decided I wanted to.

     "I made you breakfast." My father says quietly, setting it on my lap as he sits down beside me on my bed. He smiles reassuringly at me, but I don't return it. "We're gonna leave soon, once you've eaten."

     I nod and shovel a spoonful of cereal into my mouth.

     "Do you want me to get some clothes out for you?" He asks.

     I shrug and stroke Petals back when she shuffles over to my side, abandoning my cereal to pay attention to my puppy. She licks my cheek with her little tongue, but I pull her away before she can again.

"You don't know?" He questions, amusement lacing his tone.

I shrug again.

He stands and walks over to my dresser, pulling out a pair of leggings and a jumper—both easy clothes to get out of so it won't be troubling to get into a hospital gown—before making his way back toward my bed and setting them on the end of it.

"How are you feeling?" He asks me.

     I give him a thumbs up. He tilts his head but doesn't say anything. If he's noticed that I haven't spoke in days, he hasn't mentioned it.

Maybe he doesn't care. Maybe he's grateful, since he knows that I'm the reason everything has become so bad. He's happy I'm making it right.

I just hope that it's not too late.

"Can I sit with you for a little bit?" He asks. I nod. He smiles and gets onto the bed next to me. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and plants a kiss in my hair. I continue to eat for a few moments before he talks again. "I'm proud of you for being so brave through all of this."

     I look up at him. I've hardly been brave. I've been in bed all day, crying myself to sleep most nights because I'm afraid of what this surgery will cause for my older brother and I. I don't want to get hurt, but I especially don't want him to get hurt, not when he's being so selfless and giving up an actual organ for me.

     Still, I put on a smile and lean onto him. He kisses my forehead again and tucks me into his side.

I continue to eat my food until I can't have anymore, my stomach ache suddenly growing.

"Do you wanna get dressed now?" He asks softly.

I nod, even though that's the last thing I want to do. As I stand, an image of a knife splitting against my stomach booms into my focus. I wince and walk to the edge of my bed.

"Come downstairs once you're done, okay?" He says. I nod again, and he smiles a small, soft smile before leaving.

I collapse back onto my bed as my breaths begin to quicken. I don't think I could've kept my tears at bay any longer, and despite the fact that I never wanna leave my fathers side, I'm glad he's not here now.

I put my head in my hands and let out a small sob as salty tears begin to roll down my cheeks. I swipe them away quickly, as though they're poisonous.

Petal climbs onto my stomach and sits down, but then begins to sniff my face. I look away from her and turn around, burying my face in my duvet.

It's gonna be okay.

It's gonna be okay.

It's gonna be okay.

Maybe I'll be okay, but there's no way to guarantee that he will. I begin to pray then—to anybody who'll listen—that if something does go wrong, it's with me, not him. Despite the rocky start to my relationship with my oldest brother, I still love him. I don't want him to get hurt permanently and irreversibly because of my kidney problems.