I’m okay. Quit worrying. Go enjoy your win! Tell Holland we say congratulations!
Aunt Jo
And make sure he thanks you!
I snort. That would be the day. Holland is so full of himself there’s no room in his brain foranyone else.
Dad
Let us know when you’ll get here.
Mallory
I’ll hurry! Love you!
My family responds with their love, and I’m about to click off my text screen when a separate message pops up from Jo.
Aunt Jo
She’s not going to tell you, but your mom is struggling this weekend.
My heart clenches.
Mallory
What’s going on?
Aunt Jo
Bad burning in her feet, radiating up her legs.
I pull up short and tap the call button on my phone. A moment later, Jo answers.
“Ew, are you even a millennial?”
“You know you love me.” I sober. “Are you alone?”
“Yeah, I’m outside.”
“When did the pain start for her? Has she gotten any relief?”
“It’s been pretty constant all weekend.”
I start pacing on the far side of the clubhouse, my mind spinning and my heart breaking for my mom. She’ll never complain, but I absolutely hate thinking of her miserable.
“And they got the bill for her hospital stay,” Jo adds in a hushed tone. “That, coupled with the therapy they’re paying for out of pocket is stressing them out. Your mom is insisting she can drop the number of her PT sessions.”
I flick my gaze to movement in my periphery. Holland is prancing into the clubhouse. He’ll submit his scorecard and sit for interviews, and then apparently, we’re having some sort of meetingwith his agent. Who knows what that’s all about. He doesn’t see me, but I watch him as he walks inside with a self-satisfied grin on his face, basking in the glow of his victory.
Our victory.
Which landed me a nice bonus.
That’s what Holland means to me. He’s the vehicle for my growing income. The avenue by which I’m going to be able to help support my parents as they navigate my mom’s ongoing therapies and treatment.
“This weekend’s winnings will help,” I tell Jo. “I’ll talk to them about it when I get home.”
“They’re stubborn. They don’t want your money, Mal.”
