Page 32 of Live Love Steal
There it was, the real reason she called. Money. “Tell ‘em to bill it to me.”
“Can you wire me money instead? I don’t want to deal with the hassle.”
My pause was to slowly inhale, then exhale, just like Isobel taught me to. It kept me from ripping into my ex and gave me a moment to get my words in order. My thoughts were racing around. One of them poked at me. “How do you plan to move without money?”
“Why do you think I don’t have money?” Her words were shrill, and I glanced at Isobel, who had flinched.
Her head followed her eye roll as if she couldn’t believe the conversation. Neither could I.
I tried again. “I don’t know why you think you’ll be better off moving away. You’re going to be more broke there.” My mom thought she’d be better off farther from Dad. She didn’t move a whole state away, but it was far enough that I couldn’t see him often. By the time I needed him to step up, it was too late.
“Don’t try to twist this around to land on me. You always do that.”
Here comes the lecture…
She continued. “I’m the victim here. If you really cared about me, or your son, you’d not be such a dick about money...”
It always came down to money. If I knew she wouldn’t spend it on herself, I’d give her every cent I could spare. But that would only make her want more. And I was tired of her manipulation. Tired of her using my son as the lever to abuse me over and over again. “I said, I’d pay the hospital bill.”
“Wire me the money for the copay.”
“I can’t right now.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m driving.”
“Pull over and send me the money. If you don’t, I’ll tell the court you’re refusing to pay for your son’s hospital bills.”
I pulled the car over. Isobel looked at me like I was insane. She shook her head and dug through her purse. She pulled out a little notepad and scribbled on it.
Whatever it said, I didn’t read it. I pulled out my burner phone and texted my lawyer, warning her to access the recording for the incoming call. Meanwhile, I told my ex to hold on for a second. I handed my phone to Isobel and sent her a signal to keep her mouth shut. Then called my lawyer’s voicemail and muted it until I was sure the service had picked up.
Then I took my phone back from Isobel and held them both close together. “Okay. How much do you think the hospital visit is going to cost?”
“I don’t know. Five hundred?”
That was bullshit. “The copay is eighty.” Same as the last time she took Noah in.
“What about medicine?”
“We don’t know if he’ll need medicine yet. If he does, I’ll send more. But for now, I’m sending you eighty. And if the copay is more, or they give you a hassle, call me. I should be home by then.”
“Where are you?”
“Driving a friend to get their car.”
Her tone immediately changed, now knowing she had an audience.
“I appreciate this. Did you want to talk to Noah again?”
“Please.”
I kept the recording going while Noah told me about some cartoon or other he was watching. I told him to get better and try not to puke up anymore medicine. Then he asked, “Will I see you tonight?”
That gutted me. I wanted to. “It isn’t my night, little buddy.”
“But I’m sick.”
