I was looking at us.
I wiped my eyes.
One day I realized I wasn’t just looking at her.
That’s when I asked Dad to help me find out if I could directly donate one of my organs to Sophie. He helped me ask questions and go through the paperwork.
Dad told me to tell you.
I closed my eyes.
I said no.
It’s not because I trusted him more.
Dad told me to tell you.
It’s because you were still talking about me coming home.
The words blurred.
I remembered all the times I’d said it to her: “When you come home.”
“When you’re better.”
And the way she’d smiled politely while looking at me so gently.
I remembered all the times I’d said it to her
I knew you needed that hope.
And I couldn’t make you sit beside me while also waiting to find out whether another girl might live because I died.
