Ronnie flounces into the hallway wearing a shit-eating grin, as if she knew she’d get her way all along, and plants a kiss on my cheek before skipping up the stairs to my bedroom with her cousin in tow. No one can ever claim the woman doesn’t have confidence, that’s for damn sure.
I wander into the kitchen and grab the pink and teal tumblers Gina got me for my birthday last year—each one labeled with a cheesy drinking-related pun, likeI make pour choices,Wine about it,andSip, sip, hooray!—then make my way up to my room where my friends wait for me, checking their phones while lying on their stomachs side by side on my bed. Andie’s cheeks are slightly flushed, which tells me she’s texting her boyfriend, Eli. They’ve been dating since March and are still very much in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, though it’s entirely possible this is just how they’ll always be considering how nauseatingly cute and in love with each other they are. Even the story of how they met is adorable, as if they were unconsciously channeling that Tom Hanks movie about the two bookstore owners who fall in love over email. Except, instead of owning a bookstore, Eli is a local radio DJ and Andie his devoted listener who would frequently text requests to his show. They then began chatting online, neither aware of the other’s identity, only to bump into each other completely by chance when we were in Santa Cruz for spring break this past March. It was an eeriecoincidence, as if some invisible force had dragged him those three thousand miles from Rhode Island and physically put him in her path so they would meet.
Ronnie says the whole thing was kismet. Especially since, to top it all off, Eli is also a student at Conwick. She wouldn’t shut up about Andie’s horoscope for weeks after that.
As for Ronnie…who can really say what she’s doing. She could be swiping right on Tinder, stalking Timothée Chalamet on Instagram, or quite literally hiring a private investigator—or hitman—to hunt down Jay for all I know. With her, the options are nearly endless.
When I close the door behind me, they immediately stash their phones, giving me their undivided attention. Ronnie then bolts upright, grabs her bag off the floor, and pulls out two bottles of wine, holding both up for me to choose. Without hesitation, I point to the Chardonnay.
They make room for me on the bed, and we sit in silence as Ronnie uncorks the bottle and carefully fills the glasses halfway. She then examines each of the tumblers before purposely handing me the one printed with the wordsWine about it, as if that will somehow make me talk. For a moment, I expect her to say something first, but she doesn’t, waiting patiently. I’m grateful she doesn’t bring up the Damian-shaped elephant in the room.
“So, what’s going on, Lex?” Andie finally asks in a gentle voice when I don’t, in fact, whine about it, opting instead to quietly sip from my glass. “Is your mom okay?”
There’s no hiding the grimace that pulls at my lips.
Part of me really doesn’t want to get into it. I’ve held the tears in all day for Mom’s sake (except for that one little bastard that managed to slip free), and I’m afraid that if I open the flood gates and let them loose now, they might never stop. Another part ofme wants to spill my guts, and weep as they hold my hands and tell me that everything will be okay. Even though it won’t.
Not unless I find us a way out of this nightmare.
“The insurance company raised our deductible and, come January, won’t cover her oral chemo meds anymore.” My voice breaks on that last word, and I pause, drawing in a breath and taking a few seconds to steady myself. Once I’m certain my composure won’t crumble, I add, “Her treatments are still covered, but when the new year hits…well, it won’t matter. They won’t continue paying for her infusions until that deductible is paid in full, and as for the meds themselves…” I scoff. “They cost a fortune on their own. So, no. I don’t think she will be.”
Ronnie presses one hand to her mouth, her eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. Clearly, she didn’t expect my news to be this bad. She flounders, quickly downing her wine, then gasps out the only response that suits the situation. “Shit. That’s beyond fucked up.”
I nod as my gaze drifts down to the quote staring back at me from the front of her glass—I make pour choices—and for a moment, I find myself thinking of Damian again. Poor choices, indeed. I bet that asshole has never worried about money a single day in his life.
“Yup,” I grumble, chugging the rest of my drink, and hold my tumbler out for a refill.
Once my glass is topped off, Ronnie sets her own empty cup down on my bedside table, and takes my free hand in hers, rubbing her thumbs over my skin in slow, soothing circles. Her cousin mimics the motion on my back, her palm warm through the fabric of my T-shirt.
“What are you guys going to do?” Andie asks.
I shrug. “I mean, I told her I’d drop out of Conwick and get a job, but she wasn’t really fond of that idea.”
Ronnie snorts. “What kind of job do you think you’d get as a college dropout, smarty pants? Probably not one that would pay anything close to what you need.” She releases my hand and taps a manicured nail against the middle of my forehead.
A frown twists my lips and tugs at my brow. I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but she’s right. I can’t rely on a perfect SAT score and a college scholarship to get me a job with a high enough salary. Or at least a job with good benefits, not that I could claim Mom as a dependent. Which would mean paying for everything she needs treatment-wise out of pocket. Without a degree or sufficient experience in the field, my options are limited. Still…
“I don’t know what other choice I have.” A lump swells in my throat, and I force myself to swallow. “If I don’t, she might…” But I can’t finish that sentence. I can’t even finish that thought.
“What about crowdfunding or something?” Andie suggests. “A lot of people do that these days to pay their medical bills.”
“Which issosad,” Ronnie laments. “The system is well and truly fucked.”
I exhale a wheezy, mirthless laugh. “Agreed, but I don’t think my mom would want me asking a bunch of strangers for the money. She’d see it as charity and find a way to feel guilty about it until it eats her alive. Which we can all agree is ridiculous, but I think it’s because we’ve had to do things on our own for so long that she sees this as just another problem for us to bear the weight of alone. Gina might be able to talk some sense into her, but I don’t see that happening. My mother is nothing if not stubborn.”
Not that I’ve entirely discounted the charity route. It would just have to be through some official channel for Mom to accept it.
“I could ask my dads to pay for it,” Ronnie says, as plainly as if we were just discussing the weather. “God knows they have more than enough money.”
My heart falters, but though my chest warms at her offer, I adamantly shake my head. “I can’t let them do that, not with the kind of money we’d need. Besides, we all know there’s no way in hell Mom would agree to take it. Plus, your dads are paying three tuitions right now between you two and Sammy, and Conwick isn’t exactly a state college.” Samantha—Andie’s younger sister—isn’t in college yet, but she goes to a swanky private high school which costs nearly as much as Conwick. I can’t even imagine trying to afford one tuition let alone three. Thank god for my scholarship or we’d really be screwed. “They have enough to pay for.”
And as much as I wish I could accept Ronnie’s offer, this isn’t their problem.
Andie makes a pensive humming sound. “Well, there must be something out there that can help without turning you into a charity case. Or a stripper.” She drums her fingers on her chin before rolling off the bed, a devious smile forming on her face as she prances over to my desk and sinks down into the spinning gray chair. “Let’s have a little look, shall we?” She opens my laptop, brings up the browser, and starts typing in the search bar. When she hits enter, a website pops up, and I sneer.
“Craigslist?Seriously?”
She looks at me and cocks a brow. “Hey, this site has been known to have some quality shit on it. Besides, despite that incredible brain of yours, you have no qualifications, mi amiga, and minimum wage will not help you with your current predicament. Therefore, in the immortal words of Leia Organa, Craigslist is your only hope.”
