JAMIESON — THE PAST
It took hundreds of rescue workers and the Coast Guard to reach Petra. It was hours I didn’t think we had. I was so grateful when I saw them take her away, alive.
I’d sat on the back steps watching it all unfold, cursing that I didn’t talk her out of seeing the whales. Cicerro had me cleaned up, put on a change of clothes, and made me stay away so they could do their jobs. After seeing the airlift, I knew she was safe.
They don’t airlift the dead.
We’ve now been in the hospital waiting on news for close to three hours. Dad flew in from his Texas race, and I have never seen him in such a state. Wyatt stayed at the house with the staff, and Mom has paced incessantly. She yelled a few times at the staff, trying to get news. She yelled at Cicerro, at Dad, and at the other people waiting in the lounge. Never once at me. She won’t even look at me.
“Mom?” I say, trying to get her attention. I want to say I’m sorry. I want to tell her what happened, but she won’t talk to me at all. “Mom, I’m so sorry. Petra wanted to listen to the whales singing. She said—”
“Jamieson. I…I can’t talk to you,” she says, without even looking my way. “Cicerro, take him home.”
“But I want to be here when Pet wakes up.”
Wiping a lone tear from her face, Mom doesn’t turn my way. “Take my son home, Cicerro. I can’t deal with him as I worry about my baby girl.”
I’ve always been her little boy. She’s always told me how there’s nothing I could do to make her not love me. How I’m the sweetest thing she’s ever made. But right now, I feel like a stranger. Unwelcome.
Finally speaking up, Dad says, “Cicerro. Can you...”
Before he finishes, a doctor walks out, interrupting him. “Mr. and Mrs. Crown?”
“Yes,” they say in unison.
“I’m Dr. Meacham. Your daughter’s outlook is grim. She punctured her kidney’s, her spleen, and broke her hip. We were able to slow the bleeds to other areas, but without a donor match, I’m afraid we can’t do much more.”
Sitting down hard, Mom looks awfully pale. Dad is better, but even he isn’t looking good. “Were there any on the transplant list?”
“Unfortunately, no. And she won’t live long if we don’t have something soon. She needs a perfect match to be viable.”
I’ve listened to everything being said. Rising out of my chair, I step in close. “She’s my twin. Can I help?”
The doctor, Mom, Dad, and Cicerro, all turn my way. It’s like I told them I’m the son of the devil. Or the son of an angel, if I can pull it off. “Son, it’s too risky. I can’t let you.”
“Dad, if I can help Petra I will. Please.”
“It’s risky, Mr. Crown.”
Wrapping me tightly in a hug, one that only Dad can give, I hear Mom as she speaks to the doctor further. She’s upset about Petra, not about the complications with me. It bothers me, but I know it’s because she’s so worried.
“I love you, Jamieson,” Dad says, still holding me. He never calls me by my name. Nicknames only. It’s his way of showing he loves us. “You’re a great brother, Whiskey. Don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Dad, if I don’t she’ll die. I can’t live without my sister. It’s just as much my fault as hers that we were out there tonight. I should have stopped her.”
“Whiskey, son. It was just an accident.” He hugs me even tighter. I love the crush on my body as he brings me in super close. Breathing into my hair, I feel his words hitch. “Go have a seat. We need to talk to the doctor for a bit.”
Taking a seat, I listen as they go over the risks, the complications, and the procedure. Eventually, I’m checked in by a desk nurse, handed a robe, and have a hospital band placed on my wrist.
Just before I’m wheeled away, the doctor approaches me. “Son, this is going to hurt, and you’ll have a few weeks of recovery. But you’re very special to do this for your sister.”
I shake my head. “Nah. I’m not special. Petra is. I’m just lucky to be her twin brother.”
Accepting that, he nods and walks off, leaving me with my family. Saying goodbye to my parents and Cicerro, I’m led off to the inner area of the hospital where I’ll have a kidney removed.
I’d remove my heart if it would save my sister.
I’d do anything for Petra.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Waking up in the recovery room, the bright lights are blinding. My head is groggy, my eyes feel scratchy, and my body is numb. Clearing my throat gains the attention of a nurse.
“Nice to see you awake, Jamieson. How’re you feeling?”
“Tired. Really tired.”
Smiling, and grabbing up a glass of water off the side table, she says, “You’ll be for a while. Here, drink some water, it’ll help.”
Taking the straw she pushes towards me, I suck back the water like I’ve been living in the salt flats for days. When I’m done, I push the straw away and ask her the only thing of importance. “How’s Petra? Where’s my sister?”
That smile disappears before she says the words I never want to hear again.
“I’m sorry she died before you could help her. Your sister is gone.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s been weeks. It could be years and nothing would feel better. Looking out at the sea, the cliff and the spot where it happened, nothing feels right.
I’m not right. The ocean doesn’t hold any charm after it took my sister, and the whales? If they sing again, it won’t be something I find magical.
Dad was here for her funeral, and luckily for the birth of my new baby sister, China, before he headed off for another race.
She’s beautiful. Dark hair like my dad and soft features like Mom. She’ll be a danger to all men. To me, she’s never going to replace Petra. I have the scar to prove she was real, and touching it every day reminds me how amazing and awesome she was, and reminding me of how I failed to save her.
Being her brother I had one job, and mother reminds me that every day. I never had the chance to save my sister and that tiny scar taunts me.