Page 54 of Toxic Hope
“Stealing someone’s mail?” The look on his face…! Like I’m fucking Jack the Ripper or something.
“I picked it up because I know they’re having trouble paying it.” I wait for him to skim the bill before adding, “That’s a lot of money. They can’t manage it. What is she supposed to do?”
“She?” I swear, it’s like an antenna goes up on Mom’s head. “Who is she?”
“I know who she is.” And Dad does not look happy. A dark flush starts to creep up his neck as he turns our way. “This is the girl from the parking lot, isn’t it? The one who found you beating on Brody.”
“How do you know her name?” Preston asks.
“I make it a point to know things.”This prick. “And right now, I very much hope you aren’t trying to somehow prod this girl into recanting the statement she gave at the hospital.”
I swear to God, he will go out of his way to underestimate us. Like there is no low he doesn’t think we would sink to. “That’s not what this is. She’s… become a friend of ours,” I explain. The words are sour on my tongue—I hate that I even have to explain things to him when he couldn’t understand if he spent the rest of his life trying to. I barely understand it myself as it is.
Mom passes behind Dad and glances at the bill, then winces. “It’s good of them to want to help a friend,” she murmurs. She can’t see the way he rolls his eyes, but I can. Seriously, it’s like he goes out of his way to be a prick.
“We just wanted to know if there’s anything we could do to make it easier on her.” I hate feeling like I have to defend myself for giving a shit. “Do you think there’s any way we can help?”
“I’m not sure what you think would be possible,” Dad murmurs as he slowly folds the bill. “I wish I could help all of our patients. I really do. You don’t see what goes on behind the scenes. We don’t set arbitrary costs for the care we provide. A lot of it is out of our hands.”
Something moves across his face when he looks at us from across the breakfast table. He’s exactly what anybody wouldexpect from the head of a hospital—in his suit and tie, perfectly groomed, totally in control. But for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t look sure of himself. Like maybe, for once, he doesn’t have all the answers. “Does this really mean so much to you?”
“Yeah. It really does,” I tell him. “She’s been through a lot, and so has her grandma, and it doesn’t seem fair that they should basically spend all the money they have just to keep Emma alive.”
“That’s terrible.” Mom looks at Dad over the top of her coffee mug.
With a sigh, he lifts his shoulders. “There might be a program or two they could apply for and receive a little assistance.”
The hope that sparks in my chest is new. I can’t remember the last time I felt it. “Do you think somebody at the hospital could tell Emma about it when she comes in for her next treatment?”
“Yeah,” Preston agrees. “It has to sound like it’s coming from the hospital. Not from us.”
Dad’s lips pull into a tight line like he’s disapproving, but he has to know he’s way outnumbered. Otherwise, he wouldn’t finally nod. “All right. I’ll make arrangements to have someone give her the information. But I can’t promise anything more than that.”
“Now I think you boys need to get ready for school,” Mom concludes. It’s so unusual for her to say anything like that anymore that I don’t even think about leaving the kitchen and going upstairs to get changed.
Even if I don’t really feel like we accomplished anything.
“There must be something else we can do for her now,” I decide when we reach the upstairs hallway. Coming to a stop between our bedrooms, I turn to Preston, who looks as unsettled as I feel.
He’s scowling when he turns to me. “What are we supposed to do? I’m all ears.”
The answer is so obvious, and it’s right in front of us. “What if we offer to get her necklace repaired? She has that pouch, right? We could take it to a jeweler.”
“Oh, you mean… this pouch?” I couldn’t be more surprised when he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the little velvet bag.
“What are you doing with that?”
He blinks hard at me. Like he’s wondering if there’s something wrong with my head. “I always thought I would look good in pearls. What the fuck do you think I’m doing with it?”
“You stole it from her?”
“I’m going to need you to stop and think for a minute.” Rolling his eyes, he shakes the pouch to make the pearls rattle. “I thought we could get them restrung for her. To apologize and all that.” He says it with a tight jaw. His teeth are clenched, too. If I was a stranger, I’d think he’s pissed off.
Maybe he is. Maybe he’s pissed at himself for breaking the necklace. It must have meant everything to her if she crawled around, searching the sidewalk in front of strangers and whatnot. “Then that’s what we’ll do. We can drop it off at the jewelry store in town before we go to school—we should just have time,” I decide, checking my phone. “But we need to hurry.”
“Give me five minutes.” There’s a new feeling in the air when we split up to go to our rooms. Now we have a goal. We can’t undo the past, but we can try to make up for it. And even if it won’t be cheap, it doesn’t matter.
I’m finally starting to figure it out. There are more important things. And the happiness of a new necklace will be worth ten times whatever we spend.
