She fumbled through her wallet. Her credit card was already at its maximum. That left Rob’s American Express card, which he saved expressly for work expenses. He would not be happy, but she had no other choice. With shaking hands, she jammed it into the machine.
The checkout girl waited. “PIN code?”
Phoebe felt her chest tighten. She never used this card—crap! What was the PIN?
“Or you can choose credit,” the girl said.
Her wave of relief was so strong, Phoebe’s knees gave. “Credit,” she practically shouted.
“Good to see you, Phoebe!” To her horror, Victoria pushed her cart up at the end of Phoebe’s line. Involuntarily, Phoebe covered the credit card machine with her hand. The screen flashed, and a beeping sound went off.
“It cleared,” the girl announced.
Phoebe tried to mask her relief. “Of course it did.” Then, “Good to see you,too,” she crooned at Victoria.
Hands still shaking, she turned out of the grocery store parking lot and toward the rehabilitation center. This couldn’t be happening to her finances. She’d known they’d burned through savings. As it was, she’d transferred funds into her checking account threetimes in the last week to cover all the recent upstairs costs. But, clearly, she’d not stayed on top of balancing it all.
Something had to change. Perry was the obvious person to go to for help, but Phoebe did not want to hear “I told you so.” She also wasn’t sure what she needed. Sure, Perry was in a financial position to offer assistance. But Rob wouldn’t want that, and to be honest, Phoebe really didn’t either. This was their venture, and they’d have to figure a way out. At the very least, she needed to talk this through. Up until now, their financial strain had been a closely guarded secret she’d been keeping, and it was taking a toll on her. As she pulled into the rehab center, she resolved to talk to Jake. He may have been the least likely to offer monetary assistance, but he was a good listener. And he always had her back.
But as soon as she saw Jake, Phoebe had second thoughts.
He was seated on a table in the large OT room, gritting his teeth as his therapist manipulated his ankle. Even though he was gray with pain, he managed a small smile. “Hey, sis. How’s it going?”
“Better than you, I’d say.”
Jake put his hand up to the OT, signaling he needed a break, and lay back on the table. His forehead, Phoebe noted, was shiny with perspiration.
She had never seen Jake like this before. Their little brother had always beenall boy, as Nana Elsie liked to say. He never stopped moving. First thing in the morning he snagged his bike from the garage and away he went, calling out to neighboring kids as he sailed down the street. It never failed: in his wake, children appeared, along with hockey sticks and baseball bats. Pickup baseball games, flag football, dodgeball—all of it ensued. Jake stirred people up, gathered them, brought them out of their houses and out to the curb. Anyone was ripe for the picking.
Once she had looked out the window and spied the mailman dodging a pack of kids as he raced for base, his mailbag slung over one shoulder and envelopes flying out behind him. In college it was the same; when Jake came home for break, all their old friends from high school started trickling through their front door. Beers were cracked. Card games started in the dining room and went long into the night. Touch football in the backyard. Their mother loved nothing more than a full house; Jane was known to plop herself down right in the middle of a raucous poker game. Edward, who liked a quieter house, would shake his head and take his book upstairs. But even he lingered in the doorway when the noise of political conversation filled his living room. When Phoebe’s own friends popped over, they were always sucked in. More than once she and Perry stood on the outskirts of their own family room watching everyone encircle their brother as he launched into a story.
“Would any of them even notice if we left?” she’d wonder aloud.
Perry didn’t dignify the question with an answer. But Phoebe already knew the answer. She and Perry were the opening act, and Jake the headliner. His pull was magnetic. They could hardly blame their friends.
Now, seeing him flat on his back on the table, there was no sign of the life force her little brother was. It made Phoebe feel unsettled.
“You all right?” She put a hand on his arm.
“He’s doing okay,” the OT said, as she sat back and studied him. “If he would do his exercises like he’s supposed to, this wouldn’t be so painful.” She extended a firm handshake. “I’m Laverne.”
“She’s the grim reaper,” Jake mumbled, as Phoebe introduced herself.
Laverne laughed loudly. “What you need, my man, is to get on board.”
“What I need is to get out of here,” Jake said. It had only been two days since he’d been transferred from the hospital to the rehabilitation facility, but already Phoebe could see the jitteriness in his eyes.
“What you need is to shut up and follow directions,” Phoebe said. “Listen to these people. If they say stretch, stretch.”
Laverne laughed again. “Your sister’s a smart girl. She’s right about that.”
“Hear that?” Phoebe poked him in the ribs. “I’m smart. And right.”
Jake sat up, and there was a small glimmer in his eye. “Yeah, yeah. Laverne lies. Don’t believe a thing she says.”
“Hey now. For that, we’re getting you up on your crutches. Up you go.”
Phoebe watched as Jake lifted himself gingerly from the table and swung his injured leg over the side. He winced, moving mere inches at a time to lower the leg to the floor. It hurt to watch.
