Page 53 of Toxic Hope
“Listen to this,” Preston mutters as he finishes putting his shoes on. “First she almost orders us out of here so we’ll have time to go home and change before school, then she gets all mouthy.”
“I’m just saying. I wasn’t born yesterday.” She folds her arms and sticks her chin out, and it’s honestly adorable how she thinks she’s tough shit. The girl has been through things I don’t even want to think about, but I kind of want to pat her on the head, too. I’d probably lose my hand, which is why I don’t bother.
“Listen.” Instead of patting her head, my hands find her shoulders. “You do too much. You push yourself too hard. You’re going to start logging in from home a lot more than you do now.”
Why is it not a surprise when her eyes narrow? “I’m sorry. Sometimes my memory gets foggy. I don’t remember asking whether you think I should log in or go in person.”
“He’s right.” Preston stands and folds his arms. He can look pretty intimidating when he feels like it. “You need to start thinking more about keeping yourself as healthy as you can. When I think about all the disgusting assholes you come into contact with on campus, it makes me sick.”
“I come into contact with you, too,” she mutters, smirking.
“We mean it.” Having Preston on my side is a big plus. My voice is louder than before when I ask, “Who are you trying to impress? What do you have to prove? You’re only risking your health when you push yourself.”
Why does she have to be so damn impossible? Even now, when we’re making sense and giving a shit for once. “And what if I tell you I’m perfectly fine to make my own decisions based on how I feel?”
“I don’t remember asking for your input.” Preston crowds in so we’re both in her face. “We see you around school, and you’re going to have some explaining to do.”
“I’m shaking in my boots,” she grumbles—but I wasn’t born yesterday, either. She’s trying to fight back a smile. After being almost alone for all this time, she has people who are willing to order her around if it means keeping her safe. It has to feel good.
We can actually make her feel good. Not only her body, either. All of her. I’m not a humble person, but I think the feeling swelling in my chest is from the way she humbles me. Like there’s this big responsibility, making her feel taken care of when she’s lost almost everyone who ever took care of her before us. She’s worth it.
A stack of mail sitting on a table just inside the front door catches my eye on the way through the living room. The envelope on top has a slightly smeared stamp on it in bright red ink.Final notice.That doesn’t sound good.
Preston’s teasing her over something, and she’s not paying attention, meaning I can flip through a little to get an idea of what’s really happening around here. She didn’t exactly make it sound like things are great when it comes to money, and all these bills tell me she’s not lying. When I come across an envelope printed with the name of the hospital, I snag it before I can think twice and shove it into my back pocket. I don’t know why I need to know. I just do. I have to know everything about her life. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of learning about her. And if she needs help, maybe we can be that help.
At least, that’s what I think before I actually open the envelope once we’re in the truck. “What is that?” Preston leans over to take a look once I have the bill unfolded. My stomach drops around the same time he lets out a high-pitched whistle. “Holy shit. They put a decimal point in the wrong place.”
I’m too surprised to say anything right away. “I mean, I knew people spent a shit ton of money on medical bills,” I finally croak. “But I never actually knew a specific number.” And I kind of wish I still didn’t.
Preston looks up at the house, then back down at the bill, which he takes out of my hands so he can get a closer look. “No way they can handle this.”
“I don’t really think they have a choice.” I’m so uneasy inside as I sit back, trying to come up with reasons why I shouldn’t go back into the house and wrap Emma in my arms and tell her everything’s going to be all right. “It’s not like you can randomly decide to not treat your cancer. I mean, I guess you can, but…”
“I get your point.” He scowls at the clock on the dashboard. “We need to get moving if we’re going to get changed at home before class.”
Like I care about class. Like I care about anything else now that I have an idea of what Emma and her grandma are staring down. And this is just one bill. How many more are there?
The question rolls around inside my skull the whole way home, where, for once, the sight of Dad’s car sitting in the driveway doesn’t make me roll my eyes or plan how to avoid running into him. It’s not that I don’t like him—I mean, I guess I like him as much as anybody likes a parent. It’s just that most of the time, I don’t feel like dealing with him. It’s not easy, having a dad who always seems like he’s looking down his nose at you, for one thing or another.
“I wonder if Dad can do something about this.” I’m already out of the truck and halfway to the stairs, in a hurry to catch him before he leaves for the morning. Once that happens, there’s no way of knowing when I’ll see him again, and it’s going to drive me crazy if I have to sit around and wait to talk to him.
Preston mutters behind me as I lead the way into the house. “There’s nothing he can do,” he argues, but I’ll wait until I hear it directly from Dad before I start thinking about a Plan B. I mean, technically, this isn’t even Plan A, because it isn’t really a plan. More like a shot in the dark.
“Morning. Where are you boys coming from?”
We both pause in the front hall, looking up the stairs at Mom. She’s taking her time, and I notice how tightly her hand grips the banister, but she’s walking smoothly enough, and her eyes look clear enough by the time she reaches us. Maybe she’s having a good day. I’m not used to seeing her this early and fully dressed.
“We stayed over at a friend’s—it was too late to drive home.” Preston kisses her cheek before she turns to me and points to her other cheek, silently requesting a kiss.
“I swear, more and more often these days, I feel like I only catch sight of your backs while you’re on your way to one place or another.” She winds an arm around mine, patting my biceps. “I don’t know about you, but I’m dying for caffeine.”
Preston strokes his chin thoughtfully. “You know, I think we can solve that problem in the kitchen.” The two of us exchange a look over the top of Mom’s head, and it feels good. Almost like normal. She’s trying. I wish there was a way to tell her I see that without making it obvious we know she’s got a problem. I guess the only thing we can do is take the good moments for what they are.
Dad is haphazardly smearing cream cheese on a bagel when we walk in together. “Oh, good morning,” he murmurs, eyeing me and my brother. “You’re up early.”
“Yeah, we decided to get a jump on the day.” Again, I exchange a look with Preston, but it’s a different kind of look this time. Why does he have to be such a know-it-all prick?
Might as well get this over with while the memory of the tens of thousands of bucks listed on that bill is still fresh. “Hey, Dad. I wanted to ask you about something.” I don’t care what Preston thinks, and I don’t care if Dad has no power over this. I need to know I tried to do something. “We were hanging out with a friend of ours last night, and I saw this lying around.”
