Page 31 of Am I the Only One

He asked if he could call me.

I told him no.

I’ve had a few other hookups since then, but they all ended the same way. Luca says I’m icy. Maybe so, but I don’t have time to get emotionally caught up with a man. My life has been enough of a rollercoaster of emotions without the headache of a boyfriend.

An incoming call interrupts my music, and when I see the call is coming from the facility where my brother lives, I quickly answer, “Hello?”

“Hi, Ms. Ashford?”

“Yes?”

“This is Debra from billing at Valley Crest.”

“Oh, hey,” I stammer as I jump off the bed. “Can you hold on for just one second?” I head into the living room, grab my coat from the couch, and rush outside before she hears the romping going on in the next room. “Okay, I’m back. Sorry about that.”

“No worries. I was calling because I’ve been trying to run Matthew’s housing payment for the month and the credit card we have on file was declined.”

Shit.

“Declined? Are you sure?”

“Yes, ma’am. I tried running the card a few times before calling you. Do you have another card so we can update your billing information?”

“Umm, no. I should probably call the credit card company to see what’s going on,” I tell her, too humiliated to admit that I’m dirt broke.

Two days ago, my other credit card got declined as well. I couldn’t even pay to gas up my car, so I wound up writing a hot check. I felt like such a loser. I mean, who the hell pays with checks these days? Frauds, that’s who.

“Yes, of course. Make sure you give me a call back so we can arrange a new method of payment. Just to remind you, we have a ten-day grace period before late fees start accruing.”

“How much are the late fees?”

“Twenty-five dollars a day.”

“What happens if I can’t pay the full amount?” I cringe when I ask this, afraid of what the answer might be.

“After sixty days of non-payment, the patient would be removed from our facility.”

“Well, what happens at that point? I mean, I’m not even living in-state.”

“You would have to find a facility with an open bed that won’t require additional payment beyond what Medicaid pays,” she responds. “If you like, I can email you a list of those facilities.”

I drop onto the bench on the front porch, sick to my stomach. The frigid air nips at my ears as my bitter cold fingers grip the phone. It’s as if someone just sucker punched me, knocking the wind out of my lungs.

Matthew is in a shitty facility as it is, and it costs me beyond what the state and Medicaid will cover. I don’t even want to imagine the crap-hole facility that runs solely on Medicaid. Matthew is already miserable, and there is no way in hell I’m going to allow him to suffer more than what he already is.

“No, it’s fine. I was just curious. Let me call the credit card company and see what’s going on. I recently had to make several purchases for this next semester at school, so I’m sure it’s just a precautionary measure,” I lie.

“No worries, Ms. Ashford.”

“Is it okay if I get back with you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” she says. “You have a good afternoon.”

Setting the phone on the bench, I drop my head into my open palms as my eyes heat with tears.

“Fuck,” I say under my breath as a tear falls to the concrete beneath me.

Why is this happening? Silently, I plead to God, needing to know why he took my parents from me and left me with this mess of a life. Forget about me. Why did He take them from Matthew? Here I am, trying to fill their rolls as his guardian and failing. I fought for it so I could protect him and take care of him, but all I’m doing is letting him down. The thought of turning over responsibility of him makes me even sicker, and I know that I can’t. I refuse to put him solely in the hands of the state. He needs me, but I’m so lost. I’m lost and alone, and I’m drowning.

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