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“Dan, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The GoFundMe account. We reached the goal this morning.”
My brain won’t work. “What?”
“I don’t know what you did. And I’m so sorry you had to do it. But I’m glad you did.”
“Dan… I didn’t go through with it.”
“What?”
“I couldn’t do it. I didn’t take the photos. Well, not of anything interesting, anyway. Socrates called this morning and I told him I was out. He wasn’t best pleased.”
“Oh. Well. I guess he decided he had a change of heart and took pity on us. He must have decided to pay the full amount anyway.”
“No. That doesn’t make sense… Who did it say the donation was from?”
“It was anonymous. I just assumed it was him. Who else has that kind of money?”
Slowly, I turn and look through the café window.
Mack is leaning back, his arm on the back of the chair, sipping his coffee, watching me.
“Look,” Dan says, “I’m about to go and see Dad. Do you want to come?”
“Yes. I’ll be about half an hour. I’ll explain then.”
“Okay. It’s amazing though, isn’t it? He’ll get the treatment, Sid, all of it.”
“It is amazing. I don’t know what to say.”
“See you in a bit. Maybe our fortunes just took a turn for the better, eh?”
“Um, yeah. Maybe.”
He ends the call.
I slide the phone back into my jeans, then slowly walk into the café and sit back in my chair.
Mack finishes off his coffee and puts down the mug. “Everything all right?”
“It was you,” I whisper.
He lifts his eyebrows. “Me what?”
“The GoFundMe account met its total this morning. All of it. It was you, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t know what you mean. You literally told me about it five minutes ago.” He lifts his mug in a toast. “Congratulations though, that’s great news.” His eyes gleam over the rim of the mug.
It’s true—he couldn’t have known about it. He didn’t have time to look it up on his phone and make a payment. The only time he looked at his phone was to put Socrates’ number in, and he actually showed me the screen to make sure he’d gotten it right.
We study each other for a long moment.
There’s no way he could have done it. And yet he doesn’t look surprised or shocked. He’s not asking who could possibly afford to make a donation like that. He’s not smiling, but he is looking at me with his planetary eyes that shine with a kind of private amusement at my utter bewilderment.
He organized to have the woman’s car mended, and he didn’t even know her. What might he do for someone he desires, someone he almost had sex with? A girl he feels guilty about sending away without giving her a chance to explain herself?
I want to help solve the world’s problems, as egotistical and pretentious as that sounds.
