Trust

✍ Wound

Before my first trip to Europe on a school tour, my dad had bought me a camera- a fancy Polaroid one. He'd told me to take as many photos as I could and bring them home so that when I came back, I could tell him all about what we did and saw and he could see it in the photos while I talked and he could relive my memories with me.

When I'd arrived back home after four weeks away, I'd had a grand total of two photos- one of me and my parents at the airport before they sent me off and the second one of me and a German girl I'd met in Berlin.

Surprised, my father had asked why I hadn't taken more photos. I'd replied, "I did, dad. They're all up here," and tapped the side of my head. Dad had been baffled.

Looking back, I realized that I didn't have very many photos with my parents, especially my mother. There were a few photos of me when I was growing up, but when I'd reached teenagerdom, there was virtually none.

I regretted that now.

My phone buzzed suddenly. I almost dropped the photo album I'd been holding.

"Hello," I said. I hadn't looked at the caller ID.

"Pops? Are you okay? You weren't in school at recess and lunch. Did you fall sick or something? Please tell me you're alright."

"I'm fine, Ems," I said.

"Oh good. I was so worried for a moment there. I thought something terrible had happened. Are you sure you're okay? Why did you leave school so early then? Do you want me to come over? I can be there in ten minutes," March said.

"I'm fine. Something happened and it made me feel a little out of sorts earlier and no, it's alright. You don't have to hassle yourself to come over." Lying over the phone was easier than lying to someone face-to-face.

"Do you want to talk about it? I've got a box set of Pretty Little Liars and lots of leftover chocolates from Valentines Day," March offered.

I laughed and hoped it sounded better to her than it did to me. "Tempting, but I think I'll pass." Strangely enough, I didn't want to talk about 'it' with anyone; the only person I wanted to talk to about 'it' (and just about everything else) was Chase.

"Okay, darling," March said, "but it's your loss."

We talked for awhile longer; I barely spoke four words while March ticked off about a million items on her list for the summer dance and droned on about who was bringing who to the dance and who just broke off their friendship and who just got dumped and who got into the school football team, etc. It seemed endless.

Fortunately, I managed to end the call before dinnertime.

*****

I went to visit mum after that. She looked worse. She had started throwing up her food during the day.

"Doc Peters and I have been talking," dad said, "and the doc says a bone marrow transplant would be her best chance of treatment." Dad looked stressed. "Now, siblings have the highest chances of being a match-"

"But mum doesn't have any brothers or sisters," I cut in. Panic began to set in.

"I've already told Doc Peters that so she said she would like you and Adam and your mother's parents to get tested as soon as possible. The chance of a match is not as great, but it's better than putting your mother on a waiting list." There were bags under my father's eyes. He looked old, tired.

"I'll do it," I said. "I know Adam will too."

"Good."

I recognized the look in his eyes then; I'd seen it in Chase's eyes earlier today. Dad was in pain.