The Partiality

The smell of disinfectant hung like an invisible net, tightly covering the corridors of the inpatient ward. I carried the thermos, the plastic handle digging red marks into my palm; inside was porridge simmered for a full two hours. The porridge had absorbed the essence of the bone broth, trembling slightly inside the thermos, much like the anxious heart I carry now. When I pushed open the hospital ward door, my sister Evelyn Carter was smiling at her mobile phone screen. That laughter was clear and crisp, yet like tiny needles, it gently pricked my bare skin. "Brother, why are you only just here?" She didn't look up, her fingers flying swiftly across the screen. "Reed said he'd bring me a strawberry cake this afternoon." I placed the thermos on the bedside table, and the moment I lifted the lid, white steam carrying the scent of meat drifted out. "The doctor said you should eat something light, so I simmered it a little longer for you." Evelyn Carter finally reluctantly looked away, glanced at the bowl of porridge, and frowned. "This again? It looks sticky and just kills my appetite." She lowered her head again, her tone carrying a barely noticeable pride. "Last time Reed brought me seafood porridge—that was really delicious." My hand holding the spoon paused, the steam from the porridge fogging up my glasses. So in her mind, the porridge I'd simmered for two hours wasn't as good as another one's casually brought takeout. Mother came out of the bathroom, water droplets still clinging to her hair. She walked straight to Evelyn's bedside and naturally took the spoon from my hand. "If Evelyn doesn't want to eat, then forget it, just leave it." She scooped up a spoonful of porridge, blew on it, and brought it to Evelyn's lips. "Eat a little, you're still weak." Evelyn turned her face away. "If you want to eat, you eat. I'm waiting for Reed's cake." Mother didn't try to persuade her further. She put the spoon back into the bowl, and when she turned around, the softness on her face was gone. "Leo, your dad just called. He said the medical expenses need to be paid again. You should go pay it this afternoon." "I'm out of money." I instinctively reached into my pocket and found only a few crumpled coins. "I just paid the check-up fee last week, and I haven't received my salary this month yet." "Why are you out of money again?" Mother's voice suddenly rose sharply. "Where exactly do you spend your monthly salary? Your father's business hasn't been doing well lately, Reed is still in school, and can't you, as the older brother, be a little more understanding?" I opened my mouth, wanting to say that I spent three hundred on Mother's blood pressure medicine last month, that I spent two hundred a few days ago on a new backpack for Evelyn Carter, and that I haven't had breakfast for half a month. But the words caught in my throat, and I swallowed them back. In this family, my efforts have always gone unnoticed.