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About a week later, Patricia got the news she was a match for Kevin. The doctors said the surgery could proceed once the money was ready.
Patricia was ecstatic. She came straight from the hospital and camped outside my apartment.
I was swamped with handing over my work, so I was getting home late every night.
I stepped out of the elevator and saw Patricia sitting slumped by my door.
She saw me and immediately started complaining. ["Why are you so late? I sent you so many texts; you didn't reply to any of them!"]
I just said, ["Oh, sorry, work's been crazy. Didn't have time to check."]
["What's up?"]
Patricia came inside and sat on the couch, wringing her hands silently.
["Well? What is it?"] I prompted.
Seeing me being cooperative, Patricia finally gathered her courage. ["Vanessa, could you... could you lend me... thirty thousand dollars?"]
["How much?"]
["Thirty thousand."] Patricia held up three fingers, then added a third for emphasis.
["What do you think I am? Trust fund baby? I don't have that kind of money!"]
["Well, how much can you lend?"] Patricia looked at me expectantly. She knew my salary was decent, and I wasn't a big spender. I must have some savings after years of work.
I spread my hands apologetically. ["I just bought a condo. Right now, I don't have spare cash; I'm living off my credit card just to cover groceries."]
Patricia exploded when she heard I'd bought property.
["Vanessa Johnson! What does a girl need to buy property for? Your future husband will buy a house when you get married!"]
["You have money for that but won't lend it to me? Are you planning to die an old maid?"]
["Your parents didn't talk you out of it? Honestly, such impulsive nonsense! Property is so expensive! What makes you think you can afford it?"]
["Quick! Before the market crashes, sell it! Lend me the money! Kevin needs the surgery!"]
The audacity was breathtaking.
Seeing her dead-serious expression, I realized this wasn't a joke. She genuinely believed this.
["I'm not selling it."] I said flatly. ["Why do you have to come up with all the money for Kevin's surgery? What about your parents? Your sisters?"]
Patricia's eyes darted away. ["My parents don't have any money. Kevin's wedding cleaned them out."]
["My middle sister doesn't have much either; her husband controls the finances, he wouldn't give it to her. My youngest sister... sigh, don't even get me started."]
["I'm the oldest. Helping my brother is my duty. Besides, I'm asking to borrow it, not demanding it. I'll pay you back!"]
I still didn't lend her the money. Patricia stormed off.
A day later, I saw her post on social media: ["You really find out who your friends are when you're in trouble."]
She was talking about me. I didn't care.
Because I hadn't lent her money, Patricia initiated a silent treatment.
Usually, she bombarded me with messages daily; now, radio silence.
I was enjoying the peace.
Three days later, Patricia updated her feed: ["Blood runs deeper than water. Always."] The picture showed her and Kevin being wheeled into the operating room together.
This life, she had donated her kidney. I have to admit—I was kind of curious how things would turn for her after this.
I was busy with work handover. Apart from occasional glimpses of her life through social media, I wasn't interested and didn't want to know.
But the less I wanted to know, the more the situation seemed determined to find me.
One night, coming home late, I found a pale and frail Patricia slumped by my door.
It had been a week since she started ignoring me. She looked ghostly white, had lost a scary amount of weight, and her cheeks were hollow.
Seeing me, she gave a weak smile.
Once inside, she spoke slowly. ["Mark wants a divorce... but I don't want one. He... filed papers."]
["I talked to a lawyer. In my condition, it's very likely the judge will grant it. Vanessa, what do I do?"]
Honestly, I'd guessed Mark would divorce her after she secretly terminated the pregnancy. He was thirty-three. He couldn't afford to wait. What if Patricia couldn't get pregnant again? What then?
