MY BROTHER CALLED ME DAD AS HE WAS BEING WHEELED INTO SURGERY
I flinched, a cold sweat blooming on my forehead as the gurney disappeared through the double doors.
He’s only eight, and I’m twenty-two. I’ve always looked out for him since Mom… well, since she left. He clings to me, copies everything I do; I guess I knew this would happen someday, but not like this, not now. The sterile smell of the hospital is burning my nostrils.
“He’ll be okay, right?” I asked the surgeon, my voice cracking; he just patted my shoulder, a hollow gesture. I remember teaching him to ride his bike, the scrape on his knee when he fell. “This will all be over soon,” I told him, but his eyes were so scared.
Now, I see my reflection in the glass, a ghost in an ill-fitting hoodie. I should have stayed home, let my aunt deal with this, but I couldn’t.
My phone vibrated: “We need to talk. Now.”
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The sterile smell of the hospital was burning my nostrils. “He’ll be okay, right?” I asked the surgeon, my voice cracking; he just patted my shoulder, a hollow gesture. I remember teaching him to ride his bike, the scrape on his knee when he fell. “This will all be over soon,” I told him, but his eyes were so scared. Now, I see my reflection in the glass, a ghost in an ill-fitting hoodie. I should have stayed home, let my aunt deal with this, but I couldn’t. My phone vibrated: “We need to talk. Now.”
It was Aunt Carol. She was waiting in the small, uncomfortable waiting area just off the main corridor. Her face was a mask of worry and thinly veiled frustration. I showed her the text, though I knew she’d sent it. “What is it?” I asked, my voice flat. The adrenaline was starting to drain, leaving me feeling hollowed out.
“This, Alex. *This*,” she gestured vaguely towards the surgery doors. “He called you Dad? While they were taking him in? Alex, you’re twenty-two. He needs stability, a proper home, not… this uncertainty.” Her words, though perhaps meant with concern, felt like blows. I knew she meant the small apartment I rented, the long hours I worked, the constant juggling. She’d offered before, gently, to take him in, but the idea felt like a betrayal, like giving up on Mom, on us.
“He’s fine with me,” I said, my voice rising slightly. “He has me.”
“Has you doing what? Picking him up from school late because you had to work? Teaching him to ride a bike instead of being there for PTA meetings?” She softened slightly, seeing my wounded expression. “Look, I know you love him. You stepped up when… when she left. You did more than anyone could have expected. But this health scare… it highlights that you can’t do this alone forever. Maybe it’s time to think about what’s best for *him* long-term. A more stable environment.”
The argument died on my lips as a nurse approached, a small, hopeful smile on her face. “Mr. Miller?” she asked, looking at Aunt Carol, who quickly pointed to me. “His surgery went very well. He’s in recovery now. The surgeon will be out shortly, but you can see him in about twenty minutes if you’d like.”
Relief hit me like a physical wave, nearly buckling my knees. The argument with Aunt Carol seemed to recede, replaced by the overwhelming urge to see my brother’s face. “Thank you,” I choked out, tears stinging my eyes.
Twenty minutes later felt like an eternity. When they finally let me through, he was in a small room, hooked up to monitors, looking pale and groggy. His eyes fluttered open as I approached, and a weak smile touched his lips. “Lex?” he whispered, using my nickname.
I knelt by his bed, taking his small, warm hand in mine. It was fragile, but alive. “Hey, buddy. I’m here. It’s all over. You were so brave.”
He squeezed my hand, his thumb rubbing gently against my skin. He was quiet for a moment, drifting in and out of sleep. Then, very softly, almost too quiet to hear, he mumbled, “You stayed.”
My chest ached with a fierce, protective love. I looked at his face, the faint scar on his knee visible beneath the thin hospital blanket. He might call me Dad when he was scared, Aunt Carol might worry about stability, and the future was still a blurry, uncertain path filled with challenges I wasn’t fully equipped for. But he was here, holding my hand, and I was here with him. That was enough for now. I stayed, and I would keep staying. Whatever came next, we’d face it together.