Lost In The Fray

Fifty Two

Nia

"Dad, I owe you an apology." I've spent days trying to figure out the best way to apologise to him. But everything I think of feels too over-the-top or too insignificant. My operation is today, and I'm running out of time.

"What for?" A frown settles over his face, but he doesn't turn from his driving to look at me.

I drop my gaze to the item in my hand, rolling it between my fingers. "For not listening to you or believing you. For nearly taking the selfish option." I take a deep breath, meaning to go on.

"I understand, Nia," he says, cutting my line of thought. "I'm just grateful where we are now. For a moment back there, I really did think I was going to lose you."

I grimace at his words because even now, so soon after that was going to be my choice, I can't believe I was going down that route. It had been in my mind for so long that I didn't think this was a viable or sustainable option. Some days, I still don't.

But with the people in my life, those who support me, I'm getting through that. I see that this is the better option. For me. And on those low days, I know I have someone to turn to. Someone I can be honest with.

I open my mouth to apologise again, but it feels redundant now that I've already said it once.

"I think what got me the most," Dad continues in my silence. "Is that I didn't know. That you didn't come to me." He glances over to me. "I get you're a teenage girl, and you need your own privacy, but your kidney, your mental health..." He trails off with a sharp swallow and a heavy sigh. "That I didn't give you that safe space, to be honest."

"Dad." My single word comes out harshly as if I'm scolding him. I take a breath and try again. "Dad, you did. I was just so afraid of hurting you."

"I'd rather you hurt me than lose you altogether."

And I believe him. I no longer think that not being in his life would be better for him. "I'll remember that."

Dad looks over at me far longer than appropriate when he's driving. His eyebrows lift slowly, and a playful smile twitches his lips. "You better had, or I'll kill you myself."

"Noted." I turn my gaze back out the window, missing the humour in Dad's words. Nerves are hacking at my insides, overriding everything else.

"Go easy on your mum, won't you?" Dad says, losing all his humour. "She's not doing this to try and make up for not being around. She's doing this because she loves you."

"I do try."

"Really?" He drawls. "Or do you resent her for not being around?"

"A little," I admit. "But I barely see her."

"Then change that. Don't wait for her to make the first move." He glances at me and offers me a weak smile. "Don't expect her to do it, and you won't be disappointed. She's just easily distracted, and you have to work with that. It doesn't mean she doesn't love you or doesn't want to spend time with you."

I nod and stare out the window as the city passes me by. Perhaps he's right. Perhaps getting my mum's kidney will give me the opportunity to help get the relationship I want with her.

We're silent as Dad turns onto the hospital drive and navigates the small car park somewhere to pull in.

Dad makes no effort to leave the car, and his hands tighten on the steering wheel. "I would've fought you to the very end. I hope you know that."

"I do." I finally hold out the packet in my hands to him. "I have a little something for you. Just to say sorry and thank you. And to let you know, I intend to fight through as many kidneys as I need."