Chapter 4

Dad had nothing left to say.

Mom shouted from the side:

"Barnaby, don't waste your breath arguing with her."

"This ungrateful little snake only ever remembers a grudge. She holds onto every hurt and forgets every kindness."

I turned to look at her.

"You're right. I am an ungrateful snake. So I'm not donating, and that's final."

"You'll donate whether you want to or not!" Mom screamed, her face twisted.

"I'm your mother. You do as I say. I tell you to donate, so you donate!"

Dad joined in:

"That's right. If it comes to it, we'll strap you to the operating table ourselves!"

Their words froze the last of the warmth in me.

Those two faces I knew better than any others suddenly looked like a pair of demons, snarling and clawing at me.

I stumbled back a step in fear.

"You're monsters. You're monsters!"

I couldn't stay a second longer.

I ran out of the hospital in tears.

Behind me came Dad's footsteps, chasing.

I was terrified.

I ran faster and faster.

I heard a crash behind me, and Dad's howl of pain.

But I didn't dare turn around.

I was afraid that if I did, they really would tie me down and cut the organs out of me.

I ran and ran with everything I had.

Until I reached my boyfriend's rented room.

He saw me arrive, still crying.

He gently wiped away my tears and asked what was wrong.

I told him everything.

I thought he would care.

But he listened, frowned, and said:

"He's your brother, though. Even if he's done a thousand wrong things, he's still your own brother. How can you just turn your back on him?"

I stared at him, unable to believe it.

"What did you say?"

My boyfriend went on:

"It's just one kidney. A person can live a perfectly normal life with one kidney. It's nothing. But if your brother can't find a donor, he'll be disabled for the rest of his life!"

The more he talked, the more worked up he got, as if he'd cast himself into the role.

He kept going:

"If my little sister were still alive, if my older sister were still alive, I wouldn't just give one kidney. I'd give her both, gladly!"

His hypocrisy shocked me beyond anything I could hold in.

"Matthew Henson, that's enough!"

"What are you spouting?"

"Wasn't it your own sister who worked herself sick back then, all for your sake?"

"And now you're playing the saint?"

"If you were really such a good man, you wouldn't have watched your sister slave and suffer while you drank and partied every single day."

"You are the last person on earth with any right to lecture me!"

I spun around and ran.

My boyfriend called after me a few times.

It only made my feet move faster.

I ran, and I cried as I ran.

It felt like the whole world was a lie.

Every bit of it was fake.

I drifted on the streets for a week.

After a week, I went home again.

When Mom and Dad saw me come back, they didn't curse me or hit me. They were like different people:

"Prissy, you silly girl, you're all grown up now, so why are you still acting like a child?"

"Your father and I were only frantic, that's why we said those things to you. You can't just run away from home."

"Do you have any idea how worried we were about you?"

Dad had turned unusually gentle.

And Mom, for once, said:

"Look how thin you've gotten from going hungry. Tell me what you want to eat, and I'll make it for you."

I didn't know why they had suddenly changed.

But being worried over felt warm.

A warmth I had never known.

What I wanted, what I had ached for, was nothing more than a family like this.

I looked at Mom, crying.

"Mom, I want your pot roast."

"All right, don't cry. I'll make it for you."

That evening, Mom cooked a whole table of my favorite dishes.

I ate it with tears in my eyes.

So they wouldn't see me cry.

The moment I finished, I hurried back to my room.

I lay there thinking for a long time.

Maybe I really was cold-blooded.

Something inside me began to give.

He was my brother, after all. My own brother.

What was so terrible about giving up one kidney?

By the dead of night, I had worked it through.

I decided to have a proper talk with Mom and Dad. I decided to agree to donate.

But when I got to my bedroom door, I overheard them talking.

Mom asked:

"Is she asleep?"

Dad said:

"She usually stays up late. She won't be asleep before two or three in the morning."

He sighed and said:

"Give her this milk, we've put sleeping pills in it. Once she drinks it, we take her to the operating table."

"I know it's cruel, but there's nothing else we can do. Our son's illness can't be put off any longer."

The room went quiet for a long while.

Then Mom snapped, resentful:

"Barnaby, what are you still hesitating for?"

"Don't leave me to always be the villain!"

"It's your son lying in that hospital, waiting for a kidney. He's your only bloodline, Barnaby."

"If you won't go, then you can just watch your son turn into a cripple!"

Dad was silent for a long time. Then he said:

"All right. I'll go."

Terrified, I spun around and slipped back into my room, pulled the blanket over myself, and pretended to be asleep.

Behind me came the sound of the door opening.

And Dad's heavy footsteps.

Every one of those footfalls landed on me like the tread of an executioner coming for my life.

It wasn't that I hadn't known they didn't love me.

I just never imagined they could be cruel to me to this degree.

"Daughter."

Dad's voice came, trembling:

"Are you asleep?"

"Dad made you a cup of hot milk. Drink it while it's warm."