Page 47 of Spark
Hercules joins him and removes containers of what looks like soup, various vegetables, and two tubs of ice cream from the second bag. "Reheating stuff is easier than standing by the counter or oven, cooking, putting weight on the leg you’re supposed to be resting."
"Hey, I can cook standing on one leg." I smile, but neither of my buddies is laughing or even groaning at my poor attempt at a joke. Instead, they exchange glances with each other.
Hands on his hips, Cam fixes me with what I call his Dad-stare. "You are theworstat receiving help. You know that, right?"
My chest puffs up with an argument that fades before the words can reach my lips. He’s right. So right.
Olive exchanges her purple crayon for a yellow one. "I picked out the ice cream, Teo. I hope you like it. There’s chocolate peanut butter with pretzel bits and vanilla with caramel pieces."
"Thank you, Olive. They look great. Maybe we can all have some after dinner." I share smiles with the angelic pixie sitting across from me, then twist to face my friends head-on. "And thank you, Cam and Herc. I appreciate everything you do, and I’ll try to be better at receiving help."
Raising a brow at me, Hercules sets the ice cream in the freezer. "Good."
I accept the piece of paper Olive hands me, pick up the pink crayon, and begin drawing. "How was today’s game?"
"Brutal." With a dramatic eye roll, Cam loads more food into the freezer. "We lost, thirty to nineteen. And we missed you. Oh, and the under-thirty team had their game after ours. Apollo was at the field early and asked me how you were doing."
"Was he dressed in his gear?"
"Yeah."
"Good. When he sent me a text the night I got home from the hospital, apologizing, I told him that accidents happen, no hard feelings, and I hoped he’d keep playing. I know we’re almost finished with the spring league. I hope he plays in the summer one."
“I do too,” Hercules adds, so softly I don’t know if he’s aware he’s spoken out loud. He stacks the now empty coolers, one inside the other, then says in his normal tone, “Tell Mateo about the game, Cam.”
Cam and Hercules launch into a play by play of the game. I listen, nodding and smiling at Cam’s theatrical retelling, but my mind is split between their story and my own financial woes.
Dues for the summer league have to be paid by the first of next month. I don’t know how I’ll make that two hundred dollars appear out of the air. Since I can’t work either job right now, my stress about money and paying bills is well into the stratosphere.
My company doesn’t offer short-term disability. I was able to use the personal days I’ve been allotted for the year, but they maxed out at fifteen, so once I return to work next Monday, if I need to take any days going forward for the next six and a half months, for sickness or otherwise, that time won’t be paid. Without any breaks, it’s going to be a long,long,rest of the year.
Beside me, Olive is drawing a picture of four stick figure men, one girl, a horse, dogs, and cats. She rolls a green crayon to me. “Help with drawing the grass, Teo.”
As I add tufts of green along the bottom of the paper, my mind continues to race. At least my utility bills will be lower than usual this month because I’ve been staying here at Finlay’s place. But the hospital and ambulance bills that I know are coming loom like an enormous weight suspended over me by a tiny string. Those costs could be in the thousands of dollars range. Sickness floods my stomach at the thought.
I sketch in more blades of grass. Green is supposed to be a peaceful, Zen color, isn’t it?
What if I can’t make the minimum payment on the loan when the other bills start coming in, or the hospital won’t let me have a payment plan? I should pick up some odd jobs on the side, things I could do on Sundays and on Monday and Tuesday nights after work. I don’t want to give up rugby, but if I have to, then it would open up Saturday mornings and afternoons and Wednesday evenings for earning money too.
"Mateo. Earth to Mateo. Come in, bud." Cam’s voice jerks me out of my musings.
I set the crayon down. Both Cam and Herc are staring at me, almost as stricken as they were when I was being carted off the rugby field. "Sorry. Just thinking."
Lines of concern run across Cam’s forehead. "You were miles away. Are you sure you’re not experiencing any concussion symptoms?"
"I promise, I’m fine.” Taking a deep breath to quell the nervous uptick of my heartbeat, I spin a blue crayon through my fingers. Blue is supposed to be calming too. “Your friend the florist, do you think he needs an extra delivery driver?"
Brows drawing together, Cam folds his arms across his chest and leans one hip against the kitchen island. "What’s going on, Teo?"
"I just…" Gesturing at my leg and neck, I shrug. "I need to pick up some extra jobs so I’m not stuck extending my time bouncing for even longer."
Cam cocks his head to the side, like there’s a hundred scenarios flashing behind his eyes. "How about I loan you—"
"No." I make the word as firm and definitive as I can.
"Why not?"
"Because mixing money and friendship isn’t wise."
