Chapter 3 Your Sister or Yourself

I did not contact them again.

…

A week later, my mother came to the school to see me. "Abigail, I brought you some food."

My father pushed my sister's wheelchair, carrying an insulated lunch container in his other hand.

It was the first time I had ever met Lillian face-to-face.

She was wearing the dress from the photos. The moment she saw me, she opened her arms. "Abigail!"

But when she noticed the cuffs of my faded sleeves, then saw my twisted right hand beneath them, her smile quickly disappeared. "Why is Abigail's hand bent?"

She shrank into my father's arms and started crying.

My mother awkwardly tried to comfort her. "Lillian, don't be scared. Abigail just never got her hand treated properly."

I hid my right hand behind my back and used my left hand to pick up her doll for her.

After crying for a while, she whispered, "Abigail, I'm sorry. It's not that I don't like you."

"I know."

Even so, I still brought them into the reception room.

My mother opened the lunch container. Inside was half a bowl of oatmeal, an egg with a bite taken out of it, and a few stalks of overcooked greens.

"It's all light food. You should eat something better before your surgery."

Lillian leaned against the table. "This is what I didn't finish. Mom said throwing it away would be wasteful, so she brought it for you, Abigail."

My left hand stopped with the spoon halfway to my mouth.

"Lillian!" My mother quickly cut her off. "She's just a child. She was only saying it without thinking. Don't take it personally. I brought this food especially for you. What parent wouldn't care about their own child?"

I put down my spoon. "What do you want from me?"

My father didn't answer. Instead, he pulled several sheets of paper from a document folder. The first was Lillian's surgery payment notice. The second was a school document.

"A scholarship authorization form?"

"There's still $100,000 left to pay for Lillian's surgery," my mother said. "Give your scholarship to the family for now. We'll pay you back later."

"The scholarship was awarded to me by the school."

"You're part of this family. When there's an emergency, of course you should help."

I continued reading.

The final page was an application for medical assistance for a low-income family. The applicant's name was Lillian.

"You want to use my proof of financial hardship to apply for assistance for her?"

My father looked uneasy. "It's just borrowing the paperwork for the application. You grew up in the countryside and really did struggle. Everything in those documents is true."

"My experience is real. That doesn't mean she can use it to apply."

"You're her older sister. What's wrong with helping Lillian this once?"

I looked at the payment notice. "Didn't you have $300,000?"

"That was set aside for Lillian's rehabilitation," my father said immediately. "We can't just use it."

"What about the insurance?" I pulled an insurance claim notice from the folder.

Lillian's accident medical insurance was expected to pay out $180,000. The listed recipient was my father.

"Can't you use this money either?"

He snatched the notice from my hand. "That's money for later."

My mother frowned. "Abigail, when did you become so calculating?"

"Everyone else's money has a purpose. Mine is the only money you can take whenever you want."

Lillian took a sticker from her bag and stuck it on the cuff covering my right hand. "Abigail, now it doesn't look so ugly."

"Thank you."

She looked up at me. "Dad said there isn't enough money for the surgery, so you have to figure something out. Abigail, can you make money out of nowhere?"

The room fell silent.

I looked at my father. "Is that what you taught her?"

"She's just a child. She was only saying it without thinking. What's the point of holding it against her?"

"She only remembered what you told her."

My mother brought up my grandfather again. "The doctor said your grandfather doesn't have much time left. If you don't save your money now, you won't even get the chance to do something for him at the end."

My phone rang at that moment. It was my grandfather.

"Are they using me as an excuse again?"

I did not answer.

"My medical expenses are covered by insurance, and I have savings. Anyone who says they need your surgery money to save me is cursing me."

My father took the phone from me. "Dad, we just want both children to be able to get treatment."

"Then, did you sell your car? Did you cancel the doll Lillian ordered?"

My father fell silent.

"You can't bear to give up your own things, so you're willing to sacrifice Abigail's hand?"

My grandfather hung up.

I pushed the documents back toward them. "I won't sign anything, and I won't give you my scholarship."

My father stared at me. "We'll be there on the day of your surgery."

I looked up.

He added, "That day, you'll have to choose between your sister and yourself. If you still consider yourself part of this family, cancel your surgery."

They took Lillian by the hand and left.

At the door, she looked back at me. "Abigail, when you have your surgery, will someone hold your hand too?"

My father tightened his grip on hers.

His steps faltered for a moment, but he did not turn around.