Ask the House

Three days earlier, Clara had been standing in the back room of her small flower shop when her phone rang.

She almost ignored it.

The number belonged to her father, a man who had not called her in nearly two years. The last message he had sent was a stiff birthday greeting containing only five words.

Hope you are doing well.

Clara had never answered.

She stared at the ringing phone until the screen nearly went dark, then accepted the call.

“Clara?” her father said.

His voice sounded smaller than she remembered.

“What happened?”

There was a pause.

“It’s Daniel.”

Clara closed her eyes.

Her brother’s name still opened an old wound. She could picture him at family dinners, laughing easily while their mother filled his plate. She remembered how their parents celebrated every promotion he received, every new car, every ordinary achievement.

Meanwhile, Clara had been praised only when she needed nothing.

“He has acute leukemia,” her father continued. “The doctors are preparing him for a bone marrow transplant.”

Clara gripped the edge of the worktable.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“They tested us. We’re not suitable matches.”

Clara already understood why he had called.

Her father cleared his throat.

“The doctors say a sibling has the best chance.”

Clara looked around the flower shop she had built after losing nearly everything. Buckets of white roses stood beneath the fluorescent lights. In the corner, a framed photograph showed Lily laughing in a yellow dress, her hands full of daisies.

“She was his sibling too,” Clara whispered.

Her father said nothing.

The silence confirmed that he knew exactly what she meant.

Then her mother took the phone.

“Clara, this is not the time to punish us.”

Clara’s breath caught.

“Punish you?”

“Daniel could die.”

For one reckless second, Clara nearly screamed.

Instead, she stared at Lily’s photograph.

“When do you need me at the hospital?”

Her mother exhaled with relief.