You are the most compatible person to donate a kidney to Luis. If we don’t proceed soon, his life will be in danger.
I sat there, clutching the hem of my blouse, my head thumping as if I had a swarm of bees inside. “I understand,” I whispered, but my voice was so low I wasn’t sure if he’d heard me. Dr. Ramirez looked at me, and his expression softened. “Do you need more time to think about it?” he asked. I shook my head.
I nodded. Not because I had already decided, but because I felt I had no other choice.
Fernanda, her parents, and even Luis. They were all counting on me, and I couldn’t let my son die through the glass door. I saw Fernanda standing there, her arms crossed. Her gaze, as sharp as ever, gave her mother, Mrs. Rosa, a nod of approval, as if she were certain of
The whole family was in my small house. The living room was packed. The yellowish light from an old bulb reflected off the worn walls. I put a teapot on the table.
The scent of mint did little to dispel the heavy atmosphere. Fernanda’s parents, Mr. Carlos and Mrs. Rosa, sat in the middle, occupying the two best chairs as if they owned the place. Fernanda sat beside them, her hands clasped, and glanced at me sideways, as if to make sure.
that I wouldn’t regret it.
Luis was reclining in an armchair, his face pale and his breathing shallow. César was leaning against the wall, silent, but his eyes were red, as if he were holding back a fury about to explode. Mario was huddled in a corner, hugging his small backpack, his eyes full of
Anguish. I took a deep breath. My hands trembled as I put down the kettle. I’ve made a decision,
I said, my voice shaking, but trying to sound firm. I’m going to donate my kidney to Luis. The room erupted like a bomb. Mrs. Rosa clapped her hands in a shrill voice. That’s a real mother. I knew I wouldn’t let this family down. Fernanda covered her face. Tears streamed down her face, but I saw
How he clenched his fists as if he were acting in a play.
“Oh, Mom!” he said, his voice breaking. “I knew you loved me more than anyone. Thank you.” Luis looked at me, his eyes clouded with exhaustion, but he still managed to say, “Mom, I owe you my life.” His words tore at my heart like a knife to the chest. But then César got up from a
She jumped up and slammed her fist on the table.
The blow made the teacups rattle. “No!” she cried, her voice trembling with rage. “Mama! Can’t you see? She’s sacrificing herself for some evil plan. She’s using you and she’s using my brother Luis.” The air in the room grew thick. Only the buzzing of a mosquito could be heard.
around the spotlight. Fernanda jumped to her feet and pointed at César.
“What are you saying? You dare accuse me? I do everything for my husband.” But César didn’t back down. He came closer, his eyes blazing. “Accuse you? And what about those unlabeled jars and those midnight calls? Mom can’t let them fool her.” I looked at César, then at Fernanda, and finally at Luis.
I wanted to say something. To ask César to calm down. But I couldn’t.
I just looked away, feeling like the whole world was crashing down on me. That night I sat alone in my small room, in front of the old wooden table. The oil lamp flickered. Its dim light illuminated the trembling words I wrote in my will. I wrote that the little house would be
for César and a few of my valuables for Mario.
Each stroke was like a cut in my soul. I didn’t know if I would survive the operation, but I wanted to be prepared, to leave something for those I loved. Juan sat motionless in his wheelchair in a corner, staring at me with his lifeless eyes. I saw his hand tremble, as if he wanted to say something, but
Outside, the rain poured down, mingling with the sound of my own sobs.
Early that morning, when the sky was still dark and fog clung to the narrow streets leading to the hospital, I lay on an ambulance stretcher. I clutched tightly a small cloth bag containing a couple of changes of clothes and an embroidered handkerchief I had kept since the day
of my wedding. The ambulance siren wailed, but I no longer paid attention.
Streetlights filtered through the window, blurry like my shattered dreams. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe, but my chest felt tight. Today was the day I would donate my kidney to Luis, my son. I had already decided. I had written my will. I had prepared myself mentally, but
My heart was still in a knot.
As if I were entering a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. When the ambulance stopped, a nurse pushed the stretcher down an endless hospital corridor. The squeak of the wheels on the tiled floor was like a hammer hitting my head. Fernanda was walking right
Behind me.
Her steps were light but firm, like a guard’s. “Don’t worry,” Mom said in a low but sharp voice after the surgery. “Everything will be all right.” I glanced at her and saw a flash of triumph in her eyes, as if victory was already assured.
Her smile sent a shiver down my spine, not from the cold, but from the feeling that I was being drawn into a scheme where I was just a pawn, powerless to act. Fernanda’s parents, Mr. Carlos and Mrs. Rosa, were already at the reception. They were very well dressed. Mr. Carlos wore an old but well-made suit.
The doctor’s clothes were pressed, and Mrs. Rosa was wearing a bright red dress, as if they were attending a grand event, not surgery.
They took Fernanda by the arm and greeted the doctors with exaggerated politeness, as if they had known each other for years. I heard Mrs. Rosa laughing heartily as she told a young doctor, “Thank you for all your support, Doctor. We won’t forget this favor.” I stood there, clutching my bag.
I was wearing a cloth gown, feeling like a stranger in my own story. Luis had already been taken to a waiting room. They allowed me to see him before he went into surgery.
The small room was freezing, and his thin arms were covered in IV lines. His face was pale, his eyes sunken, but when he saw me, he tried to smile weakly. “Mom. Thank you,” he whispered, his voice breaking with exhaustion. I took his hand. It was freezing, and I felt like crying.
Suddenly, César came running in, his hands still stained with grease from work. He was panting. His shirt was soaked with sweat, as if he’d run a long way. ”
Mom, don’t do it,” he said, almost pleading, as he grabbed my shoulders. “I beg you, don’t donate the kidney. Something’s not right.” I looked at César. I saw his red eyes, filled with anger and worry. I wanted to tell him that I’d already decided I couldn’t let Luis die, but the words wouldn’t come.
I placed my hand on his.
I squeezed it gently and let the nurse lead me away. César stood there, helpless, shouting behind my mother, “Listen to me, but don’t turn around.” I didn’t dare turn around because I was afraid that if I looked into César’s eyes, I would collapse. The hospital corridor was long and cold. The smell of disinfectant was
So loud it made me nauseous. An impersonal voice came over the loudspeakers.
Operating room number three. Prepare for kidney transplant. I was taken to a changing room where a nurse put a surgical cap and mask on me. The cold, blue gown they put over me was a reminder that I was about to lose a part of my body. I looked at myself in the mirror. I saw my face
I looked haggard, my eyes surrounded by dark circles. I wondered,
“Maria, what are you doing? Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” But then the image of Luis in the hospital bed flashed into my mind, and I gritted my teeth and kept going. As I walked down the corridor, I caught a glimpse of Fernanda and Mrs. Rosa standing by a glass window, talking.
with a stranger.
He was wearing a black jacket and a cap that covered his face, identical to the man in the photo César had shown me. I saw Fernanda hand him an envelope, and he quickly put it in his jacket pocket. My heart started pounding. Cold sweat trickled down the back of my neck. What were they doing?
What were they doing? What was in that envelope? I wanted to stop, scream, and demand an answer, but the nurse grabbed my arm and pulled me into the operating room within the operating room. The white light shone directly into my eyes.
So bright I had to squint. Dr. Ramirez stood there, his face serious but calm. “Everything’s ready, Mrs. Maria,” he said in a deep voice. “Just relax.” I nodded. But my body was rigid. The nurse placed the electrodes on my chest, and the monitor beeped.
The heartbeat was constant, but each beat felt like a warning. Fernanda appeared on the other side of the glass.
She pressed her face against it and gestured for me to quickly sign the papers another nurse was holding. I took the pen, trembling. The ink smeared across the paper. When I signed, I felt like I was signing my own death warrant. I looked at my blurry signature. I thought about the will I had made.
Written the night before in César, in Mario.
And I wondered, will this be the last time I’m conscious? Just as the doctor prepared to administer the anesthesia, my heart pounded. A cold sweat soaked my back. I closed my eyes. I tried to breathe. But images of Luis César, Mario, and Fernanda kept swirling in my mind.
My head. I thought about Mario’s recording on the unlabeled jar. About César’s photo.
I wanted to stop it all, but I couldn’t. I had gone too far. I had signed. I had come into this room. I could only stay there, waiting with a fear that choked my heart. But then, just as the nurse was about to inject the anesthetic, a loud bang shook the whole room. The
The door burst open. The creaking of the hinges tore through the air.
The entire team of doctors and nurses jumped. Some whirled around, panic in their eyes. Mario burst in like a small whirlwind. His sneakers were still caked with mud. His school uniform was wrinkled, and his chest heaved as he panted. He clutched his…
An old cell phone, its screen cracked as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
A nurse ran after him, shouting desperately. “Child, you can’t come in here. Oh my God, stop!” But Mario didn’t stop. He ran straight toward me, his big, round eyes filled with fear, but burning with a determination I’d never seen in a child.
“Grandma,” she said in a trembling voice, but so clear it froze everyone in the room. “I should tell everyone why my dad really needs your kidney.” Her words were like a bomb exploding in my head. I gasped. My heart seemed to stop. The operating room fell silent.
Absolute stillness, broken only by the beeping of the heart monitor, which now sounded louder, as if it wanted to shatter the tranquility.
A nearby doctor dropped a pair of surgical forceps. The metallic sound against the marble floor was sharp, like a cut in the tense air. Dr. Ramirez, the head of surgery, raised a hand, signaling the entire team to stop. He frowned, but his voice was calm and firm.
Let the boy speak. Whatever you have to say, say it now. I looked at Mario.
I saw his little hand clutching the phone, his face pale, but his eyes shining, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Get out! Behind the glass, Fernanda pounded on the door furiously, making the glass rattle. Don’t listen to him! She screamed in a shrill, almost hysterical voice. He’s just a
The boy you’re going to see.
But Fernanda’s gaze was no longer cold as ice. It trembled with panic, as if the secret she had tried so hard to hide was about to be revealed. Mario didn’t look at his mother. He came over to me and, with trembling hands, pressed play on his cell phone. A recording played. The voice of
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