The Father's Reckoning

Chapter Three: Fifty Thousand Dollars

"Fifty thousand dollars?"

Tyson repeated the amount as though saying it again might make it sound less frightening.

Dr Williams nodded.

"Yes, Mr Alan. That's the estimated cost of the treatment, including the necessary medical procedures and care."

Tyson stared at him.

"Doctor, I don't understand. My son was just born. How can he need something this serious?"

"I understand how difficult this is for you. Your son was born prematurely, and his condition requires urgent attention. The tests have shown that a bone marrow transplant is necessary."

"Can't you give him medication? Something else? Anything that doesn't cost that much?"

The doctor folded his hands on the desk.

"We have considered the available options. However, delaying the recommended treatment could put his life at greater risk."

Tyson leaned forward.

"Then start the treatment. I'll find the money."

Dr Williams studied him.

"Mr Alan, I need you to understand the urgency. We have approximately four days to arrange everything."

"Four days?"

"Yes."

Tyson looked away.

Four days.

He had barely managed to pay his rent the previous month. He was a parcel delivery driver, not a wealthy businessman. His salary was enough to keep food on the table and pay their basic expenses, but fifty thousand dollars was beyond anything he had ever imagined.

"Is there no financial assistance from the hospital?" he asked.

"We have a financial assistance department, but the support available is limited. You can speak with them, but I don't want you to depend entirely on that option."

Tyson nodded slowly.

"Can I see my wife now?"

"She's still under close observation. We'll let you know when she's stable enough."

Tyson stood.

"Please, Doctor. Whatever you need to do for my son, do it. I don't want to lose him."

"We'll continue doing everything we can."

Tyson left the office.

He returned to the neonatal unit and stood beside Zeri's incubator.

His little boy was still there, surrounded by machines.

Tyson watched the tiny movements of his chest.

"Fifty thousand dollars," he whispered.

He looked at his son.

"Do you know how much money that is, little man?"

There was no response.

Tyson forced a small smile.

"Of course you don't. You're too young to worry about money."

He placed his palm against the incubator.

"But don't worry. Daddy will figure something out."

He stayed for several minutes before a nurse approached.

"Sir, you need to give the medical team some room to work."

Tyson nodded.

"Can I come back later?"

"Of course. You can visit again during the permitted hours."

He took one final look at his son and walked out.

The hospital corridors seemed unusually long as Tyson made his way towards the intensive care unit.

He stopped outside the glass doors.

Through the window, he could see nurses moving around Sandra's bed.

She looked pale and exhausted.

He wanted to go inside, hold her hand and tell her that everything would be fine.

But he wasn't sure he could make that promise.

A nurse approached him.

"Mr Alan?"

"Yes."

"Your wife is conscious, but she needs to rest. You may have a few minutes with her."

Tyson's eyes brightened.

"Thank you."

He washed his hands, put on the required protective clothing and entered the room.

Sandra turned her head slightly when she heard the door.

"Tyson?"

He moved closer.

"Sandra."

He gently took her hand.

"What happened, sweetheart?"

She tried to speak, but her voice was weak.

"I don't know. I started feeling uncomfortable, and then..."

She paused.

Tyson squeezed her hand gently.

"Don't worry about that now. The doctors are taking care of you."

"Where's the baby?"

Tyson looked at her.

"He's here. He's in the neonatal unit."

"Is he okay?"

Tyson hesitated.

That small hesitation was enough for Sandra to notice.

"Tyson, what's wrong?"

He pulled a chair closer to her bed.

"He's receiving treatment. The doctors are monitoring him."

"Why?"

"Because he came earlier than expected."

Sandra's eyes filled with tears.

"I want to see him."

"You will. Just get better first."

She looked towards the ceiling.

"I was supposed to be holding him by now."

Tyson lowered his head.

"I know."

"Did you see him?"

He nodded.

"He's beautiful."

Sandra managed a faint smile.

"Does he look like you?"

Tyson gave a quiet laugh.

"I haven't decided yet."

"Tyson."

"Okay, maybe a little."

She smiled again.

For a moment, the room felt less frightening.

Then Sandra noticed the expression on his face.

"You're hiding something from me."

He looked at her.

"No, I'm not."

"Don't lie to me. What's happening?"

Tyson looked down at their joined hands.

"The doctor says Zeri needs a special treatment."

"What treatment?"

"A bone marrow transplant."

Sandra's smile disappeared.

"Why?"

"They said it's necessary because of his condition."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"They're doing everything they can."

She began to cry quietly.

Tyson moved closer.

"Listen to me. We're going to get through this. Both of you."

"How much does it cost?"

He didn't answer immediately.

"Tyson, tell me."

"Fifty thousand dollars."

Sandra stared at him.

"Fifty thousand?"

He nodded.

"And they need it within four days."

Sandra turned her face away.

"Oh, God."

Tyson gently touched her cheek.

"Don't think about the money. I'll handle it."

"But where are we going to get that kind of money?"

"I'll find a way."

"Tyson, that's too much."

"He's our son, Sandra. There is no amount I won't try to raise for him."

She looked at him through her tears.

"Please don't do anything dangerous."

He forced a smile.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here."

A nurse entered and reminded him that his visiting time was over.

Tyson kissed Sandra's forehead.

"I'll come back soon."

"Please don't leave us."

He held her hand for a moment longer.

"I won't."

Then he walked out.

Outside the hospital, Tyson sat inside his car.

He didn't start the engine.

He simply stared through the windscreen, trying to think.

Fifty thousand dollars.

Four days.

He opened his banking application.

The balance appeared on the screen.

$214.

He stared at it.

Two hundred and fourteen dollars.

That was everything he had left after paying rent and buying groceries. He had worked for months, delivered hundreds of parcels and spent most of his earnings keeping their household running.

And now his son needed fifty thousand dollars.

He checked his contacts.

His parents were gone. He had no close relatives he could comfortably approach for such an amount. Most of his friends were struggling with their own lives.

Still, he began making calls.

He called an old friend.

No answer.

He called another.

The man listened to his explanation before apologising.

"Tyson, I'm sorry, brother. I wish I could help, but I don't have that kind of money."

"It's okay. I understand."

He called someone else.

The response was almost the same.

Some people promised to contribute something small. Others didn't answer at all.

Tyson wasn't angry with them.

He knew fifty thousand dollars was an enormous amount of money.

But knowing that didn't make his situation any easier.

He rested his head against the seat.

For the first time that evening, he allowed himself to consider the possibility that he might not be able to save his son.

He quickly pushed the thought away.

"No," he whispered.

He sat up.

"I'm not giving up."

His phone rang.

He looked at the screen.

It was an automated reminder about his next day's work schedule.

Tyson stared at it for a moment.

Work.

That was where he had to start.

He had no wealthy relatives, no savings and no one waiting to hand him fifty thousand dollars.

But he still had a job.

And until he found another way, he would keep working.

He started the engine.

As he drove away from the hospital, he glanced at the building through his rear-view mirror.

His wife was inside.

His son was inside.

And both of them needed him.

Tyson tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

Four days.

He had four days to find fifty thousand dollars.

He just didn't know where to begin.