2: 2
The table was covered in food when I got home.
A measured low-sodium meal, blanched greens, half a bowl of porridge.
All of it things Elisa could eat.
Clara sat beside her, carefully blowing on a spoonful of soup.
"Ellie, drink a little more."
"The doctor says you can't let yourself go hungry right now."
Only when she was taking care of Elisa did she look like a real mother.
And I'd called her Mom for over a decade, and all I'd learned was how to give way.
Joseph sat on Elisa's other side, cutting an apple into tiny pieces for her.
I stood in the entryway, my training bag still on my shoulder.
Blood drawn on an empty stomach that morning, then dragged all afternoon through talk of the donation process.
My stomach ached, hollow.
No one asked if I'd eaten.
I turned and went into the kitchen.
Half a bowl of cold porridge was all that was left in the pot.
The moment my hand touched the rim, Clara followed me in.
"That's Ellie's for tonight."
"You train. You can handle skipping one meal."
I looked at her.
In that moment it hit me, clear and cold: it wasn't that she couldn't be a mother.
She just chose to be Elisa's mother only.
My father pushed an old bank card across the table toward me.
"That bonus the state team paid out last month. Transfer it to your mom first."
I looked down at the card.
It was the training-allowance card I'd set up before, linked the whole time to Clara's phone.
"That's my reserve fund for training camp."
He frowned.
"You can't see what shape this family's in?"
"Ellie needs a private room, she needs dialysis, she's waiting for surgery."
Clara's eyes reddened too.
"You'll get more bonuses once you make the national team."
"Ellie can't afford to wait."
I kept my voice low. "Didn't you already run a fundraiser?"
The living room went quiet for a beat.
Elisa dropped her head at once.
"Chrissy, I'm the one who embarrassed everyone."
"Maybe I just shouldn't get treatment."
Clara rushed over and threw her arms around her.
"Don't talk nonsense!"
Joseph held the cut apple up to Elisa's lips.
"Eat something first. Don't worry about any of this."
A link popped up on my phone.
A relative had sent it to me privately.
"Christine, you really are a good girl. I already shared the link for you."
I tapped in.
At the top of the fundraising page was a photo of Elisa lying in a hospital bed.
The second photo was me from behind, in my state-team uniform, crossing the finish line.
The caption read:
"Her older sister, Christine Swanson, is a state-team athlete and has already decided to donate a kidney to save her sister, no strings attached."
"Sisters this close. Please, everyone, help this family."
I stared at that photo, my fingers tightening bit by bit.
That was from the national youth championship last year.
I'd crossed the line and gone down on the track, my knee bleeding all over the ground.
My parents hadn't come.
Joseph had.
He'd said it was an honor worth keeping.
I held the phone up in front of Joseph.
"You gave it to them?"
His face stiffened.
"Your mom said the fundraiser needed proof of the family's situation."
"Christine, deal with the emergency first. We can take the photo down later."
Elisa spoke up softly.
"Chrissy, are you upset that I used your photo?"
"I was just afraid no one would help me otherwise."
Every line of it sounded like an apology.
And every line pushed me out in front of everyone to be judged.
I put the bank card back in my bag.
"I'm not transferring the money."
My father's face went dark.
"Christine Swanson, you're really going to force my hand?"
I didn't argue anymore.
As I turned to go upstairs, a debit alert flashed on my phone.
The money in that old allowance card had been pulled out.
Joseph caught up to me at the foot of the stairs, his voice dropping.
"Christine, I know this feels unfair to you."
"But Ellie really has no other way."
I stopped.
"Did the doctor say that himself?"
He was silent for a moment.
"Your aunt and uncle wouldn't lie to you."
I gave a quiet laugh.
So he'd never asked the doctor either.
He just believed I was the one who should be sacrificed.
