Dear God {completed}

Jesse

'Jesse, come downstairs please,' and the serious note in her voice brings me crashing into the living room.

'What? What's happened?' I ask, noticing my parents and Charlie sitting around the dining table, all avoiding my gaze, 'well?'

'Take a seat, we have something to tell you,' says my father, giving me a crooked smile and motioning for me to sit down.

'Doctor Matthews called today,' he starts, 'they've found you a donor match.'

After a second, I realise that this must be a joke.

'But.. that's too soon. It's only been a few weeks and he said it's unlikely to find a suitable match! There's got to be a mistake,' I tell my father. There's no way they found a suitable, willing donor in such a short space of time.
'Who is it?' I ask.

I see my mother clasp Charlie's hand and I look up to see him smiling at me.

'We don't know. But whoever it was must have thought long and hard about this. And this opens so many opportunities for you in the futu-'

'Wait, so that means this person is giving me their life? No.. I can't do it. I won't do it,' I tell my mother adamantly. I can't let someone die just to let me live. It isn't fair.

'Don't worry Jess, they've got it all sorted out. The doctors know what they're doing. The treatment will start as soon as you're ready,' she tells me with a smile, although it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

And then my father beckons my mother out of the room and leaves me alone with Charlie.

'Wow,' I tell him, still in shock.

'I know right, but you deserve this. Make the most of it, alright? Don't waste it. Make good choices and be happy. Always. You got it?' he tells me and I smile and nod, slightly confused as to where these inspirational words are coming from.

'Don't you find it odd though? Someone's giving me their heart? Even if they are dying, how is it possible to get a suitable match, especially on such short notice? There have been people waiting for years for this. I just don't get it,' I tell him, shaking my head.

My brother smiles affectionately, 'you think too much.'

And then he puts me in a choke hold and proceeds to rub his knuckles against my scalp- a technique I taught him years ago.

'Hey, no fair bro, no fair!' I shout, pinching his arms in a pathetic attempt to get him off me.

And we continue to play fight until we're both so exhausted, we fall asleep next to each other on the floor.

And when we wake up the next morning, there are blankets draped over our bodies and pillows tucked gently beneath our heads.

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