The Transplant ✔️

52. Starting Over

Jobe's POV:

"I'm so glad they have free wifi in this room." I was hanging with my little sister Avie, after a very eventful lunch with Jolie. They were supposed to be home, due to my father's career, and preparations for Avie's next year of elementary, but they surprised me with their extended stay.

"You're too young to be worried about wifi. When I was your age, we had a box computer that ran on Dial-up."

"What's dial up?"

"Nevermind." With Avie sitting on my bed, I continued to strengthen my muscles, using small eight pound dumbbells to get myself in working condition soon.

"I have a question." Of course; what six and a half year old doesn't have questions?

"What?" I asked.

"Are you going to be able to go home soon?"

"I will be released very soon, and depending on Jolie's condition, she might be released soon too."

"And what if she doesn't get better?"

"Alright, Avie, please shut up. I don't need to hear that right now. We can't think like that." Although it had been weighing on my mind. Jolie and I had been in this hospital for quite a few days, and the doctor hasn't said much. The next set of tests will be tomorrow, so we should get another update on her health. She might have been healing on the outside, and she may have looked healthy, but that doesn't mean her insides are equally perfect. I've been worried about her, and sitting in this hospital with nothing to do didn't help the cause. To think Jolie could still be sick, and the possibility of her not being here made me feel as if I were being cremated alive. Not hearing her laugh, her sassy remarks, the way her hair is pulled into a pony tail on a hot summer morning, but still manages to fall out. I'd miss it all, and if I could, I'd give my last kidney to her. She deserved so much in this world, so much to live for.

Taking me out of my dreary thoughts, Avie put a hand on my shoulder, kneeling down on my hospital bed to comfort me.

"I'm sorry, Jobe. I know you love her."
I sighed, grabbing Avie's tiny fingers that were set on my shoulder and held them with mine.

"I do, Avie. I do."

The door swung open, and my father strode in. He walks back and forth into my room more than the nurses do.

My father nodded his head as he walked in and walked over to the visitor's chair, brushing it off and then examining the chair as if it wasn't good enough for his pricy taste. It was becoming a habit for him, to do this every time he takes a seat in this hospital. I wouldn't blame him if we were in the waiting room with the sickly people, but even then, you can't brush away bacteria. With the way the nurses disinfect our rooms, I highly doubt he was sitting in a dirty chair anyway.

Dad clicked on the television, turning it straight to the stocks, a common television channel my father didn't miss a day of watching. He kept the show on mute, the growing stillness of the room so large I could hear the ringing in my ears.

"Hey, Dad. How's work?" I interrupted the silence.

"Business is fine; I have my secretary taking the lead, scheduling my appointments for when I get back. I'm not big on depending on someone, but it is what it is."

"Sometimes you have to depend on others." I told him.

"Yes, but once you have a career of your own, you'll see that relying on one secretary is like relying on a pet rock; hard-headed and useless." My father didn't bother holding his tongue.

"Dad, about my career, it's time we talk. Avie, could you go get me some ice? They have an ice cart by the room." I didn't want Avie hearing our conversation in case my father would have any signs of a heart attack.

"What's there to talk about?" My father asked, as soon as Avie left the room to grab my ice.

"There is quite a lot to talk about, actually. I was filling out my schedule next year and..."

"If you're worried about money, there's no need. We have plenty of money, so whatever tuition costs, it's already covered."

"No, Dad, you're not listening. I'm not finishing school. I mean, I am going to finish school, but not in law. I need to make important decisions in my life to better myself. My passion doesn't lie in law, and we both know that."

"Jobe, you're going to throw your life away. Following a passion doesn't put money in the bank. We've been over this and over this." He argued.

"Working hard puts money in the bank, which is what I intend to do. I'm going to school for engineering, whether you like it or not. I need to start off fresh and better myself, so if you have a problem with this, you're going to have to deal with it. I can make money on my own, get multiple  part time jobs to support myself if this is gonna be a problem." I no longer care to be what my father wants me to be. I was standing my ground, and lucky I was in the hospital in case he would decide to try and kill me. Or maybe he'll wait until I'm sleeping at night to smother me to death

"It is a problem. I feel like you're throwing our life away, our business away!"

"No, Dad. It's your life and your business, not mine. I want to create my own life, apart from yours."

My dad stood up, his eyes turned to the door. I thought maybe there was a tear in his eyes, but knowing my Dad, it was tears of anger.

"There's no changing your mind, is there?" He stuck his hand in his pockets.

"No, Dad, there isn't."