The smell of every Friday night was the same.  The smell of my dad's homemade meatloaf.  Ever since my... my mother left us, he made her favorite western food every Friday for dinner.  She left us... walked out with her arm linked with another man's arm.  I was only seven at the time, but I remember it all so clearly.  My father's tears running down his cheeks and his hands trying to grab a hold of hers, while on his knees.  I just watched from my bed room window, crying... I hated him at that moment.  I kept repeating to myself that he could have stopped her, he should have but he didn't.  I saw him as weak person at that moment...
But now... it's different.  When my dad first started to make meatloaf the first Friday night after she left, I hated it.  I yelled and cursed at him, and told him he was weak for just making it so my mother would come back when we both knew she wouldn't.  And although I did that, he just gave me a sad look and said sorry... that's all.  He didn't throw it away.  Instead he made me a pack of Ramen Noodles and ate the meat loaf by himself.  And we were both quiet as we ate.  After we finished, he washed the dishes as I just stood there, glaring at him.  I was angry on the outside.  But on the inside, my heart cried for him.  I didn't know why he made meatloaf every Friday night for dinner and I still don't know... but after that night, I never asked or said anything about it.  I also never ate any of it... It was hard for us both after she left...
But we've made it the past fifth teen years without missing the presence of a mother around the house.  At least... that's how I feel.


---


"Appa." I called out to him. Heavily breathing, he wiped the sweat off his forehead and put the axe down.
"Ah, you're home?  How were the results from the hospital?"
 
The... results... it wasn't...

"It's fine." I tried to answer as casually as I could've.

I wasn't healthy.

"Oh? That's good. I was worried all day since it took you so long to get back home." He smiled at me.
And I smiled back.  Maybe at that moment I should've just told him the truth.  That I wasn't okay.  And I wasn't healthy.  I guess some people would have thought that if they were told they were going to die, they would try to spend as much time as they could with the people they love.  But I didn't want to.  I wanted to leave him in the world with a happy face.  I suppose... I'm too selfish. 

"Here. Your Ramen."  Dad handed me a bowl and a glass of cold water. 
"Thanks." I nodded and started to eat. And he started to eat his meatloaf as well.

After dinner I cleaned up.  My dad washed up and went to bed.  I headed to my room and cried myself to sleep.


---
-Earlier that day- 10:42 PM

The doctor sighed. "I don't want you to worry too much yet," he said. But as soon as I heard those words, I worried. "But you've been diagnosed with liver cancer."

liver...cancer...

"W-what?" I felt tricked. "It-it can't be. I mean, doctor, I hardly drink nor do I eat meat a lot.  I have a normal diet. Nothing too harmful for my body.  And I don't have a car. So I walk from here to there everyday.  That should be enough exercise for my body and I-"

Nothing cut my sentence off.  I just stopped talking.  I guess it was the look on the doctors face.  It showed pity as well as sympathy.  It showed me that there was nothing else he could do for me and that me going on about reasons of how I should be healthy was useless...because I was already diagnosed with it...
 

"You can still survive this." He said, almost with hope in his words."If you can find a match and get a liver transplant you can survive."

"How... much... does the transplant cost?" I almost whispered. I felt the life draining out of me.

"I'm not too sure either, to be honest. but I'm sure you can look it up and if you do decide to, please contact me as soon as possible so we can find a match for you okay?"

I nodded.


---

1:26 PM

The library was barely filled.
After looking through the computer, I felt my little hope for survival walking away again...
It was around a hundred to four hundred thousands of dollars, including medicine and treatment before and after the surgery. 

I think that was the first time I really thought of my mother in a positive way.  I was thinking that if I can find her... if I just asked her... maybe she'll give me... money... maybe... but I was wrong.

5:34 PM

"What?" She snorted and turned her face direction towards a different way. She then turned back to look at me. "Did your father put you up to this?"

"Wh-what?" I was disgusted. A mirror image of myself, or how I might of looked like in the future, sat in front of me with her legs crossed, not even pleased to see her daughter. My blood was boiling, my hands lightly shaking of anger.

She looked at me, dead straight in the eyes. "Hanyoung-ah. You know why I left right?"  There was a short pause. I didn't answer so she continued. "When I left home, I didn't want anything, NOTHING," She emphasized, "to do with you or your father." My eyes wandered onto the table which separated us. I could feel my muscles tense up as I tightened my jaw. Again, short pause. "Stop pretending to have some sort of illness so you can cheat money out of me. Did your father teach that?" She mockingly laughed. "I knew he'll do a bad job raising a chi-"

My chair fell backwards, hitting the floor.  The loud *thud* cut her sentence off.  I looked up at her, right into her eyes. And then I smirked. "No. These bad habit I learned from you. Since as I child I saw my mother walk off with another man, leaving my father on his bare knees in the shriving cold." Before she could start talking again, I continued. "Forget I came here. Forget that I lied to you about having cancer. Forget that you have a daughter. I won't apologize for seeking you out nor will I offer to pay for the coffee you ordered, since that's another bad habit I learned from you."

And with that I walked out.

After walking about five blocks away from the Cafe I met her in, I sat down at the closest bus stop.  I sighed. And I sighed again.

Across the street I noticed a small bird.  It looked lost, yet it didn’t try to fly off.  Even though there were many people walking by, that bird just carefully hid itself as it slowly try to make its’ way towards the café’s direction. And not many people noticed it. As time went by, one person who did notice the bird dropped a piece of the bread she was eating, which landed behind this bird.  As soon as the bird turned around, I noticed that its’ right wing looked injured. The bird was injured… Hence the reason flying away was not an option.

I placed my hand where my liver was located.  Injured…

That’s right.  No bird can fly with broken wings…