Meet Me Where the Oak Tree Grows

"Can surgery fix it?" Jonah’s mother asked, her brow furrowed with concern.
"The success rate for the surgery is quite low. It's not recommended," the doctor replied, leaving us all a bit stunned.
We walked out of the hospital in silence. I hated the thought of them being upset because of me. My right ear's hearing had been fading for a while, a
consequence of something that happened long ago. When I was five, my dad slapped me so hard it ruptured my eardrum. Mom tried to take me to
the hospital, but Dad took the money to gamble instead. He always said I acted too fragile, making a fuss over nothing and running to the hospital for
every little thing. Mom was meek; she'd just hug me and cry, then give me a couple of aspirin.
The pain in my ear was unbearable at first, keeping me up all night. It felt swollen and hot. I'd cling to my mom, telling her how much it hurt. She only
pat my back, telling me to close my eyes and sleep, promising it would be better in the morning. I tried, but the pain just seemed to grow.
"Mom, it still hurts," I would say, but her patience wore thin. Her eyes turned from sympathy to impatience. She'd say, "I work hard for my money. Can
you stop being so delicate and grow up?" But I wasn't lying—it hurt so much. No one seemed to care.
So, I learned to endure it, biting my fingers until they bled, biting the back of my hand until it bruised. Eventually, the pain became a part of me, a
habit. Night after long night, I was reminded that I was a child no one cared about.
Now, seeing this concern on their faces was almost overwhelming. I took a few deep breaths, pushing my emotions down. I smiled, though my voice
was still a bit hoarse. "It's really no different from being normal. Plus, having one and a half ears is kind of cool!"
Jonah’s mother turned her head, her eyes glistening with tears. Jonah pulled his hand from his pocket and gently covered my ear, whispering, "Yeah,
it's pretty cool."
The alley was long, and stepping inside felt entirely different from just standing at its entrance. I used to think Jonah was just a small-time thug
collecting protection money, as people said. That's why I went looking for him. But after meeting him, I realized that wasn't true. He's a good person,
and so is his mom. They're both genuinely good people.
My initial resolve, so strong, deflated like a balloon with a slow leak. I have Aiden's blood running through my veins. I'm stuck with it, in life and in
death, destined to be tormented by it forever.
On the way back, Jonah’s mother held my hand tightly, and Jonah carried the medication the doctor had prescribed, walking behind us. It felt so
warm, as if we were a family. I wished this road would never end, so we could keep walking like this forever. But I knew that wasn’t possible.
Once we reached the alley, the fantasy had to end. I had no reason to stay. There was this indescribable sadness gnawing at me. I planned to grab
my luggage from the doorway and head home. What awaited me there, I didn't know. Just thinking about it made breathing difficult.

Oddly enough, I searched the doorway three times and couldn't find my bag.
"Are you just standing there daydreaming, or are you coming in?"