Page 6 of Rhythm and Rapture

The physics are simple and brutal: I need approximately eighteen thousand dollars per month to cover Kael's ongoing treatment, plus our basic living expenses, plus my graduate school costs. My fellowship provides $2,400 monthly. Even with the part-time teaching assistant position, I'm looking at maybe $3,200 total income.

There's a word for this situation in mathematics:impossible.

My phone buzzes with a text from Kade.

Kade: How's our favorite little warrior doing? Studio session wrapped early if you need anything.

Kade Killian, lead guitarist for Grimoire and the closest thing I have to family outside of Kael. We met during my undergraduate years when I was still naive enough to believe that hard work and intelligence would be sufficient to solve any problem. He's the one who talked me through every panic attack during Kael's diagnosis, the one who somehow managed to get the money we needed for the initial emergency bills, the one who called me every few hours from whatever city Grimoire was playing in to make sure I was surviving.

The memory still makes my chest tight with gratitude and shame in equal measure. I'd tried to refuse—accepting that kind of help felt like admitting I couldn't handle things alone,something I've never been able to do. But Kade had looked at me with those dark eyes that see too much and said simply, "Kael needs you functional, not proud. Let me help."

I'd taken the money. Hated myself for needing it, hated the universe for putting me in that position, hated the fact that love isn't enough when cancer doesn't give a shit about your emotional commitment.

I type back:

Me: He's stable. Treatment plan updated again. Trying to figure out logistics.

Three dots appear immediately, then:

Kade: Definition of 'logistics'?

Kade knows me well enough to understand that "logistics" is my euphemism for "financial disaster that threatens everything I care about." But I can't ask him for more money. Won't ask. He's already sacrificed enough for our crisis, and his band is still building their career. Besides, accepting help once was hard enough; making it a pattern would destroy the independence I've fought so hard to maintain.

Me: Just juggling numbers. Nothing I can't handle.

Kade: Bullshit. Want me to come over?

Me: I’m fine. Focus on your music.

I close the messaging app before he can argue further and return to my spreadsheet of impossibilities. Maybe if I take on additional teaching responsibilities... but that wouldmean less time with Kael, less focus on my dissertation, and the financial improvement would be marginal at best. Maybe if I apply for additional emergency assistance programs... but I've already been denied by every foundation and charity organization that provides pediatric cancer support. Apparently, our household income is "too high" for need-based aid, despite the fact that graduate student stipends weren't designed to cover catastrophic medical expenses.

Maybe if I just accept that the universe is fundamentally unjust and some problems don't have solutions...

"I'm telling you, Lorna pays better than any cam site I've worked with," a voice behind me says, cutting through my spiral of mathematical despair. "And the production values are actually professional. It's not some sketchy webcam-in-a-dorm-room operation."

I freeze, my coffee cup halfway to my lips.

"How much better?" her companion asks, and I can hear the skepticism in her voice.

"Like, enough-to-pay-off-my-student-loans-in-six-months better. I made more last week than I used to make in three months working retail. And Behind the Lens has health insurance, retirement matching, the whole corporate benefits package. It's legitimately the best job I've ever had."

Behind the Lens.I find myself typing the name into my browser before I've consciously decided to eavesdrop on strangers' conversations about adult entertainment careers.

The website loads: clean, professional, tastefully designed. Nothing like the exploitative garbage I'd imagined when I heard "cam site." This looks like... a business. A legitimate company that happens to operate in adult entertainment, featuring artists rather than victims, creativity rather than desperation.

"The application process is intense though," the first woman continues. "Full background check, health screenings,mandatory financial counseling to make sure you're making informed decisions rather than desperate ones. Lorna doesn't want anyone working there who might regret it later."

Informed decisions rather than desperate ones. Right. Because sitting in a coffee shop calculating whether I can afford both groceries and medication this week is definitely the pinnacle of informed decision-making.

I click through their "Artist Information" section, my scientific brain automatically cataloging details: profit sharing structure, creative control provisions, comprehensive safety protocols, educational benefits including tuition assistance for continuing education. Most importantly:Remote work available - no geographical restrictions for streaming content.

Tuition assistance.Remote work.

The numbers on my medical bills haven't changed, but suddenly they don't feel quite as insurmountable. If these women are telling the truth about earning potential...

I close my laptop with decision-making speed that would probably concern my dissertation advisor. Some reactions happen instantly when the right catalyst is introduced, and apparently learning about financial opportunities that could solve my impossible equation qualifies as the perfect catalyst.

I'm dialing Rachyl before I've fully processed what I'm doing.

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