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"So, I guess the conversation didn't go well."
"It went worse than anything we could've imagined. And... Dad heard it all. We said some really horrible things. I said some really horrible things, Kylian. Oh, my god." I drop my face into my hands, remembering the last thing I said to him. "I think I'm going to be sick."
Kylian springs into action and grabs a sick bag from the medical cart, holding it in front of me, rubbing my back as I lean over it.
The nausea passes but the bitter taste in my mouth doesn’t.
Nathan comes around the corner, looking older than he has ever looked to me. "Hey. The doctor is here. It doesn’t look good. Come on. Let's go talk to him.”
My brother grabs my wrist and yanks me towards him and I wince as his hand bruises me.
Kylian, pushes Nathan back, freeing my hand and says, "Hey. She gets it, you don't have to hurt her."
"I'm going to need you to mind your own fucking business when it comes to my relationship with my sister."
Kylian ignores him and asks me, "Do you need me to come?"
"No. She doesn’t," Nathan interjects. "This is for family. Just... go!" Nathan yells at him.
Kiara rubs a face over her exhausted face. "Nathan, would you please keep your voice down! We're not the only people in the waiting room, and they don't need to have to deal with our family drama." I look up at Kylian and lay a hand on his chest. "I'm okay. I'll come out and tell you what's happening, okay?"
"Of course, don't worry about me." His hand cups my cheeks and for a moment, in this hurricane of resentment and hurt, it's just the two of us,
"Come on, Kiara. The doctor is waiting. He has other patients. He can't wait for the two of you to make googly eyes at each other."
I follow him, sensing Kylian's eyes on me. I can’t help feeling how he must hurt right now wanting to be there, not only for me, but Nathan as well.
The nurse leads us into a conference room where the doctor is waiting.
"Doctor, this is my sister, Kiara."
He nods to me, his eyes already answering the only important question.
"He's... not going to make it, is he?"
The doctor shakes his head sadly. "I'm sorry, but no, I don't think he's going to wake up. He's in a ventilator right now and... we're not seeing any brain activity."
All the air leaves my body and I stagger to the closest chair. Nathan follows, putting his hand, comfortingly, on my shoulder.
The doctor opens up a file. "Did either of you know he had a brain tumor?
"What?" I shout, my shock totally evident.
"Um, yes, his medical records show that about ten months ago he was diagnosed with a..."
Ten months ago. When he called me to say that he wanted weekly lunches with me.
Ten months ago. All this time he knew. He was saying goodbye to us and not giving us the chance to do the same.
"What happened today was that his tumor hemorrhaged and so there was no oxygen to his brain and his brain cells are dying. He is not going to wake up.”
"How long?" I instantly feel the irony in asking the question, when he asked it of me only a few hours ago. But that was about a beginning, and now we were counting down the time until his end.
“Any time. He's on life support now, but that's just keeping his body alive. I'm so sorry, but essentially, he's gone."
I try to swallow but I can’t, and the nausea is back.
And all I want to do it run to my dad and hold onto him forever. Nathan's not doing much better when I finally have the presence of mind to look over at him.
