"The outstanding balance from the oncology department covers the last four months of treatment," she says. "And then there's the emergency care from the accident itself, which is being processed separately. Once your father is discharged the rehabilitation costs will begin, and depending on the level of care he requires?—"
"What's the total?" I cut her off. I know she’s trying to make this easier for me, but if she rips the band aid off quickly, it would be better for me.
She tells me.
I stop writing.
I look at the number on the back of the envelope.
"Miss Banks? Are you still there?" I must have zoned out for a lot longer than I thought.
"Yes." My voice comes out remarkably normal considering what’s happening inside my chest. "Yes, I'm here. And there's no, there's no payment plan or?—"
"We can absolutely discuss payment plans. I'd recommend speaking to our financial services team directly, they can?—"
"Of course." I press my fingers to my eyes. "Of course, yes. I'll call them. Thank you."
I end the call not wanting to talk to her anymore. There’s nothing she can say to make this any better for me, and her giving me ideas isn’t going to help me work out my financial troubles.
I stand in the kitchen, looking at the number on the envelope, and I breathe through my nose.
I hear footsteps behind me, Hayden comes in from outside, his jacket still on, and he looks at my face and then at the envelope in my hand and he goes very still.
"What's that?"
"Nothing." I fold the envelope in half before I've decided to do it. "Just some stuff from the hospital."
He crosses the kitchen in four steps and holds out his hand. He doesn't say anything. Just waits, hand out, with that patience he seems to have, which is one of the reasons I love him even more every day. I’ve never met anyone with the amount of patience as him.
"Hayden—"
"Olivia."
I hand him the envelope, because I know the tone, it’s the tone which tells me he will not stop with this conversation until I give it to him.
He unfolds it and reads the number. His expression doesn't change, not a flicker and somehow that’s worse than if it had.
"Right," he says.
"Don't." I take the envelope back. "I know what you're going to say and the answer is no."
"I haven't said anything," he quickly replies to me.
"You don't have to." I fold the envelope again, smaller this time, like I can make the number inside it smaller too. "I'll call the financial team. They do payment plans. I'll work it out."
"Olivia—"
"I mean it, Hayden. This isn't… you've already done so much, your family has already done so much, and I’m not going to sit here and let you—" I hear my voice starting to raise, because I know Hayden well enough to know that he’s not listening to a word I’m saying about this topic.
"What's going on?"
We both turn.
Hayden's dad is in the kitchen, looking between the two of us, and my heart starts to beat even faster now.
"Nothing," I say.
"Hospital bills," Hayden says at the same time.
