Page 113 of Sacrifice
“I’ll be there in half an hour or so.”
“I’m supposed to meet with Dr. Perkins shortly. So I might be there . . .” Her voice falls off. I hate this. I hate how this fucking thing is wearing her down.
Please fight, Ever. Don’t give up.I just need a couple more weeks . . .
“I’m on my way, love.”
* * *
CREW
Dr. Perkins sits backin his chair and places his glasses on his desk. He looks at us, waiting for us to react to what he’s had to say.
“What do you suggest we do?” Julia asks. She reaches over and grabs my hand. I squeeze it.
“That’s up to you. Your options are the ones I just gave you. You two can talk it out at home, if you want, but we need to move pretty soon. I just don’t think we’re having a lot of luck with the chemotherapy, not as much as I’d hoped, anyway.”
“She’s signed up for the therapy, right?” I ask, looking from Julia to the doctor.
“Mr. Gentry, the insurance company denied Everleigh for that.”
“I know,” I say, confused. “But you said if we came up with the money that she could get in.”
He nods. “Yes, that’s true. But a substantial amount of that must be paid in advance. This isn’t something you can sign a promissory note for.”
“I understand that,” I say, not appreciating his tone. “What I don’t understand is why she isn’t ready to go.”
I look at Jules and she’s watching the floor. “You did tell them we had the money, right?”
“We don’t,” she says.
“Yes, we do.” I try to stay calm as I turn my attention back to the doctor. Getting charges for assault before my fight isn’t gonna help anyone. “I will have the money, in full, on July 13th. Get her ready to go.”
“Excuse me for asking, but how are you getting that kind of money that quickly?”
“You’re excused.” I’m not about to answer this motherfucker. I know his type: a know-it-all, holier-than-thou asshole that thinks he’s better than us. If I tell him I’m fighting for the money, he’ll automatically think it’s a cock fight. It’ll be handing him my sins while he sharpens his knife.
“Mrs. Gentry, I’ll need to know your choice in a few days,” he says softly.
Julia pulls her head up, her eyes wide. She searches my face, studies me for a long couple of minutes before turning back to the doctor. She takes a deep breath, a look of resolution falling across her face. She squares her shoulders.
“We’ll have the money on July 13th. Please get things ready.”
FORTY-SIX
CREW
“So, Sal’s given me an assignment,” Will says, sipping a beer.
The drink looks all too good and I fight the urge to drink one.
“I’m supposed to figure out what music you want to come out to and what color trunks to order you. Apparent-fucking-ly, I’m your bitch.”
“I’ve said that for years,” I say, putting my feet up on the coffee table. Will rolls his eyes and settles back into his chair by the window.
“Funny. Real fuckin’ funny.”
The television is on, but I’m not watching it. None of it matters anymore. Nothing they say, nothing going on in the world, no home runs or funny commentary really fucking matters.
