So I just asked him straight, "Dad, I want to go abroad. Can I borrow some money?"
He paused. I could hear the surprise in his silence, but it didn't last long. He said yes, really fast. "Yeah, I can cover that," he said. Honestly, that's a wise decision. Oh, you don't know how much trouble you've brought into this family. Finally, you're doing us a favor!"
I smiled through it. I should've felt crushed, but all I felt was relief.
I didn't even go back home. I just got on the first flight out and slept for hours on the plane, feeling like I was finally free.
But when I landed and turned my phone back on, it was blowing up with missed calls and texts. I knew something was wrong. The notifications kept coming, and I saw Dad's message: [Call me right now]. Then another. And another.
I knew what it was about. I knew before I even hit dial. When he answered, his voice was frantic. "Your mom and Charlie... they've both been rushed to the ER! They need your bone marrow! You must come back right now!"
I couldn't believe it. My brother, too? How was I supposed to deal with that? Like, me? Take care of both of them? After everything?