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I nod. I hope she’s right.
It’s finally our turn up at the billing desk. A tubby little man with a double chin and square glasses sits behind the counter, grease stains on his cheap tie. I’m fairly certain that’s a speck of ketchup on the corner of his lip. My suspicions are confirmed when I spot the crumpled-up burger wrapper by his elbow.
“I here to provide billing address,” Mrs. Lee says.
“Patient name?” the guy asks, not bothering to look up from his computer screen.
“Evangeline Lee.”
“Room number?”
“Four seven one.”
“Would you like to pay in installments, or should I send a lump sum bill? We can set up autopay so the funds are taken directly from your account.”
“I, uh—”
I glance down at Mrs. Lee and then back up at the billings clerk. According to the nametag on his shirt, his name is Larry.
Eve’s mentioned several times that her mother works multiple jobs. I saw firsthand the kind of backbreaking work Mrs. Lee had to put up with to make ends meet. Mother had distressingly high expectations with regards to the house’s cleanliness. Sometimes she’d demand Mrs. Lee stay later until everything was cleaned within an inch of its life.
I don’t normally see what happens after a patient leaves my care. Back in New York, my only job is to treat them. My celebrity athlete clients have no trouble paying their bills, so the thought rarely occurs to me. As long as I do my job, I’m satisfied.
But today, something’s different.
I can’t imagine what a medical bill like this will do to Mrs. Lee and Eve. Money—it’s never been a problem for me. But just because my reality doesn’t apply in this situation, that doesn’t mean it’s not someone else’s. I don’t like the thought of the financial burden weighing them down. I know Eve well enough to know she’s probably stressing out about being here.
She shouldn’t have to. She needs help.
And I want to be the one to help her.
Even if she’s dead set on not talking to me—and understandably pissed—I can at least show her that I do care. Maybe my actions can ring louder than anything I could have possibly said when Mother was accosting her.
I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out my wallet, slipping out one of several Visa cards I keep there. I never know when I’ll want to make a big impulse purchase. In this case, the purchase is Eve’s medical bill.
“Charge it to my card,” I say firmly.
Mrs. Lee’s eyes widen in a mix of surprise, horror, and embarrassment. “Aiyah, no! Put that away.” She clicks her tongue as she tries to slap the card out of my hand. “Nate, no.”
I slip the card across the counter. Larry picks it up with his grimy fingers. I keep my gaze on him, ensuring that he takes down all the information he needs. Mrs. Lee continues to fight.
“Please, there no need to—”
“Will that be all today?” Larry asks flatly as he hands my card back.
“Yes. That’ll be all.”
“No, reverse it. Reverse it!” Mrs. Lee snaps. “You too generous, Nate. I have to pay you back if—”
“There’s no need, Mrs. Lee. I’ve got it covered.”
Larry lets out an overdramatic sigh. “Could you move aside? I’ve got other people to serve.”
I guide Mrs. Lee by the elbow back out into the hall. She looks like she’s on the brink of tears. Whether they’re happy tears or those of frustration, I simply can’t tell.
“Why you do that?” she demands.
“Eve…” I take a moment to find the right words. “You’re right. We’re good friends. And as her friend, I want to make sure she’s taken care of. Don’t worry about a thing, Mrs. Lee. Just promise me you’ll look after her when I’m gone.”
“Gone?”
“My flight back to New York is in a couple of days. Pops is all better, so there’s no need to substitute for him anymore. I’ve been trying to call Eve for a little while now to talk to her, but she’s mad at me.”
Mrs. Lee wipes at her eyes. “Why she mad? Aiyah, that girl so difficult sometime.”
“It’s complicated.”
Too complicated.
“I tell her call you. She need to say thank you.”
“That’s okay, Mrs. Lee. Don’t force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do. Will you at least give her a message for me?”
She nods. “Of course.”
“Tell her…”
Tell her to focus on her career. She’s going to have a bright future.
Tell her I’m sorry Mother’s so damn vitriolic. She shouldn’t have said what she said.
Tell her I care about her and didn’t mean to hurt her.
I take a deep breath and force a smile. “Tell her I’m sorry. And that I wish her all the best.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Eve
I spend the next couple of days at home. For the first time in my life, I don’t want to dance. I’ve got more pressing concerns to deal with than ballet.
