Page 52 of Past the Broken Bridges

My neighbor, who has only pointed out a few buildings and celebrities’ homes along the way, shakes his head with his eyes facing forward. “We don’t cross paths much, so it’s not bad. It helps me pay for college, so I can’t complain.”

That must be nice. “My parents took out a loan for me to come here,” I admit. I still feel bad about it, consideringhow much debt I caused them. If it weren’t for Dad’s military benefits, we probably wouldn’t have made it out from under all the hospital bills. “The online university I went to wasn’t hard, but I didn’t exactly leave an A student. Scholarships were limited when I transferred my credits.”

Mom tried getting me to write an essay about my experience with lymphoma to help pay for school, but I refused. I’d felt like a walking sob story for long enough. Medical students would come and go during my time at the hospital, using me like a test dummy—hands-on experience for their own education. I didn’t want to use my plight for my own benefit.

So, much to her dismay, I opted for student loans. Which they inevitably took out for me because they didn’t want me struggling in the future.

I may be off treatment now, but I know I’m not out of the woods. I’ve spent years reading my body, knowing what symptoms mean I have to see a doctor again. My parents want a future for me that isn’t riddled with medical debt and unhappiness, but deep down, they know it’s almost impossible.

Denial.

My future and theirs are different, but I’ll let them live in their fantasy land for a little while longer because they’re letting me do the same. It’s the only way they can truly be happy, and I won’t take that away from them.

Not yet.

Lips tugging downward at the thought of what they’ll be like five years from now, I force myself to shake it off. I don’t expect either of them to understand my choices, just to accept them. And they have, reluctantly.

And what do they get in return?

I bump into Banks and bounce back, stumbling until his hand snakes around my arm for stabilization. “Whoa. You good?”

Cheeks heating when I realize I hadn’t paid attention to him stopping, I nod. “Sorry.”

“What were you thinking about?”

I try blowing it off. “Nothing. So where’s a good place to eat around here?”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“I’m hungry,” I counter.

Banks doesn’t stand down. “My mom’s eyes used to glaze over when she was sad. I saw it enough times before she left to know when somebody isn’t okay.”

I walk over to one of the iron fences and run my hands along each railing as we start moving again. “I was thinking about all the things my parents have done for me.”

He doesn’t say anything.

Biting down on the inside of my cheek, I loosen a tired sigh. “They’re going to be riddled with debt because I wanted to come here.”

“You can pay them back over time. It’s not the end of the world. A lot of loan offices have repayment plans that students use to work toward their loans. It isn’t like they’re going to be in debt forever.”

My shoulders tense. “Right,” I murmur, knowing that won’t be the case. “So your mom—”

“I don’t want to talk about my mom,” he cuts me off.

Wetting my lips, I nod once at his tense posture. “Okay.”

We keep walking until we get to a blue building that smells like seafood and stop right outside the doors.

“You kissed me last night,” Banks says.

I rub my arm and glance at the people walking acrossthe street. “I thought you were going to pretend that didn’t happen.”

A thoughtful noise rises from him. “I should.”

I peek at him nervously, not sure if I should be hurt by that. Why would he want to pretend it never happened?

“But there’s no way in hell that’s going to happen,” he concludes, eyes dipping to my mouth.

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