The Other Son

My hand, raised to knock, slowly dropped.

I turned and walked away.

I sat on the hospital bed all night, staring at nothing, until I finally picked up my phone and tapped the button to give up my graduate recommendation.

Immediately, Janice Delgado's name popped up as the next candidate.

She was in my class. We both worked part-time to get by, and I had always felt for her. We spent long nights studying together, buried in textbooks and research.

She once told me that if she didn't get into grad school, her family would make her go back home and get married.

Being able to do something that actually mattered for her at the very end made me feel at peace.

Right before the surgery, my parents finally stepped out of Dylan's room and came to mine.

They glanced at me, and I could see the anger burning in their eyes.

Maybe because they were afraid it would affect Dylan's surgery, they held it in.

Nurses moved quickly around me, checking equipment, adjusting lines, speaking in low, urgent voices, and a wave of fear crept in.

This was the last time I would ever be with them.

Even with the disgust they didn't bother hiding, I still reached out and grabbed my mother's hand.

"If I die, would you feel anything?"

She shook me off instantly. Her face twisted; whatever calm she had been faking snapped in an instant, and she slapped me hard.

"Someone like you is nothing but a burden! If you die, my son might even get a few more years."

My father turned his head away, not even willing to speak.

Pain tightened in my chest until it was hard to breathe.

I was their son, too.

And yet, they were sending me to my death with their own hands.

Everything inside me went cold.

The anesthesiologist pressed me down and injected the anesthesia. As my vision dimmed, a surge of unwillingness rose, sharp and desperate.

My mother held Dylan's hand and spoke to me without even looking my way.

"When Dylan recovers, you can do whatever you want. We won't stop you this time."

The surgical lights flared on.

An hour later, the doctor removed one of my kidneys. They left my body open, blood everywhere, and rushed the organ to Dylan's operating room.

As they walked out, the monitor let out a sharp, continuous alarm. Several younger doctors left behind looked at each other, confused.

"What's going on? This was just a routine nephrectomy. How did something go wrong?"

Another doctor grabbed my chart and glanced at it. His face drained of color as he ran for the door. "This patient has a severe immune disorder. He never should have been a donor! I'm getting the chief back right now."

Alas, it was already too late.

I felt myself lift free, my consciousness separating from my body as I looked down at what was left of it on the table.

No one came back, not for a long time.

The surgery was a success. A few hours later, Dylan slowly woke up.

Only then did my parents remember me.

Even then, it wasn't because they were worried about how I was doing. They just wanted to settle scores for Dylan.

My father pulled out his phone and called me. When no one answered after several tries, he grew irritated and started sending voice messages.

"Curtis, what the hell are you doing? Dylan's awake, and you're not even here to check on him. Don't think we don't know the crap you've been pulling. You've got one minute to get over here and apologize on your knees, or you'll regret it!"

I wanted to tell him I was already dead, that there was no way I could do what he was asking.

My mother lost patience and got up, ready to drag me out of my ward.

Just then, Dylan let out a weak groan.

"Mom, Dad… My incision hurts…"

Their attention snapped back to him instantly. They crowded around his bed, fussing over him. To give Dylan the best care possible, they stopped all work and stayed by his side.

Other than sending me a few messages every day filled with insults, they didn't even step out of his room.

Two weeks later, they finally went home together. As they were unlocking the door, a security guard approached them.

"You're Mr. Curtis Skinner's family, right? There's a girl named Janice who wants to come in and see him. Is that okay?"

He held up a selfie of her as he spoke.

My mother's expression darkened immediately.

"He won't come home himself, so he sends some girl instead? What's this, trying to look pitiful or cause trouble? No wonder he refused to donate before. Bet he was saving himself to do God knows what with that girl!"

My father's temper flared even more.

"Are they trying to pull something like getting pregnant before marriage and fighting Dylan for the family's assets? I'm going back to the hospital to beat him senseless!"

Right then, my mother's phone rang.

She answered impatiently.

"Yes?"

A voice came through from the other end.

"Hello, is this Mr. Curtis Skinner's mother? I'm calling from the hospital morgue. Mr. Skinner's body has been here for two weeks. When will you be coming to take care of the arrangements?"