Page 33 of Light

"For non-payment."

I blink a few times, that can't be correct. "What do you mean. I pay my co-pay at every visit. I've never missed a payment."

"Yes, you've paid your co-payments, but your insurance has a yearly limit that you've gone over. We've been sending bills to the address on file for a few months now, and none of them have been paid."

Bills? Over the limit?

My heart hammers in my chest. This can't be happening to us. Not again.

"What's the balance?" My voice is soft. I'm praying for a low number. Something that I can chip away at.

"Your balance is four thousand, two hundred...."

The words drown out before she is able to finish. Four thousand dollars. I'll never be able to dig myself out of that hole. I'm right back where I started. Desperate. She continues talking, but I don't have anything to say in return. I nod my head, take the paperwork that she gives me, and walk out to the waiting room to sit with Tyler. When he asks me what's wrong, I do what most mothers do and tell him nothing.

The rest of the visit goes by without me fully paying attention. The doctor examines Tyler. They smile and chat. All the while, all I can think about is how much this visit is going to add to the bill.

By the time we get finished with the visit and we get into the cab, I've already mentally gone over the budget. The paltry money that I get from the stay at home job I work and the government assistance I get for Tyler is already gone. There's no extra.

The cab ride home is a blur.

Tyler chatters next to me about some new video game he wants to show Light, but his words barely register.

I nod and smile in the right places, but my mind is miles away, drowning in numbers and fear and a hopelessness so thick it feels like it is coating my skin.

When we finally pull up to the house, I force my body to move. One foot in front of the other, like a puppet with its strings tangled. I unlock the door, let Tyler barrel inside ahead of me, and murmur something about grabbing a snack if he is hungry.

I do not even know if he hears me.

I cannot do this.

I do not know how I am supposed to do this anymore.

Without a word, I slip down the hallway and into my bedroom, closing the door with a soft click behind me. The curtains are already drawn, the room dark except for the faint slice of light under the door.

I do not bother changing.

I do not even bother pulling back the covers.

I just crawl into bed fully clothed and curl into a ball, staring at the wall like it might offer some sort of answer, some kind of salvation.

But there is nothing.

No rescue.

No miracle.

The world feels heavier than it ever has before, pressing down on me, suffocating me with a brutal certainty.

This nightmare is not ending.

It is just beginning.

Tears sting at the backs of my eyes, but I blink them away, too exhausted even for crying.

I clutch a pillow to my chest and squeeze my eyes shut, wishing for sleep, wishing for oblivion, wishing for anything that will let me escape this crushing, bleak reality for just a little while.

Tomorrow I will have to figure it out.

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