And then we just lay there in the dark.
Unmoving.
Not speaking.
Barely breathing.
I couldn’t tell how much time had passed before he suddenly wrenched himself away from me. He jumped up from the mattress and hurried across the cabin. He grabbedhis flannel from the back of the chair and stormed out. He slammed the door so hard the walls shook.
And then, I was alone again.
Chapter Ten
Istrained my ears, listening for the sound of Dawson’s truck starting and him driving away, but it was silent. Would he really just get into his truck and leave me, though? I got up and walked over to the window above the sink. Tiptoeing across the room like he was listening as hard for me as I was for him. I felt like a different person than the one I’d been last time I tried to get to the door.
I peeked outside. He was standing in front of the truck, staring at the cabin and smoking a cigarette. I quickly ducked down in case he could see me. Did he take the gun? I scanned the room. I didn’t see it anywhere. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him carry it. Probably when he took me outside to go to the bathroom the first time. My eyes quickly landed on the backpack.
I hurried over to it and unzipped it. The gun lay on top. I recoiled like it was fire and just stared at it. I’d never even seen one in real life. My family weren’t gun people. Was the safety turned on? How could you tell? I felt like it would go off like a bomb if I touched it wrong.
My head spun, thinking fast. Was he still capable of hurting me? He’d stayed up practically around the clock for days, taking care of me. He literally just tried to kiss me and if I had to guess from the way his body felt, I’d say he would’vebeen content to do a lot more. There was no way he could turn around and hurt me after all that, but if he could, that was terrifying.
What was I going to do with the gun? Shoot him? Was I capable of that? I didn’t know if I could shoot another human being. If they were trying to hurt me, for sure, but not after he’d taken care of me so delicately. I pushed the gun aside. At least he wasn’t carrying it either. Beside it was a manila folder so swollen the clasp wouldn’t stay shut. The same one I’d seen him sorting through.
The first page I pulled out was a hospital bill.Children’s Oncology, Children’s Hospital Los Angeles.The total amount was obscene. Numbers so big they barely registered. Hundreds of thousands of dollars.Past Duewas stamped in red block letters on the first page. There were so many bills. Pages and pages of them.
The next sheet was worse:Coverage denied.It was printed on health insurance letterhead. The denial was followed by paragraphs of legal jargon that might as well have been another language. At the bottom, one line circled in thick black ink:Experimental protocol not approved under current plan.
My throat closed.
I dug deeper into the bag, pulling out one denial letter after another. There were just as many insurance denials as there were past-due medical bills. The insurance denials had comments scribbled in the margins and all over the pages. Each one angrier and more frantic. I quickly scanned the notes:
They’re letting her die. Worthless bastards. What would it cost them to save my little girl?
There was a notebook at the bottom of the backpack. The cover was torn and practically falling off. The pages were filled with cramped handwriting. The first page read:
For my girl. So the world will remember your name.
It was signed and dated by Dawson three weeks ago. Horror rose in my chest as I turned the page. Angry slanted writing of a father’s grief and fury spilled onto the notebook pages in a fiery rant. Even his writing was furious.
You’re going to wonder why I did this so I’m going to make it very clear exactly why so many people are dead. You could’ve saved my daughter’s life and you didn’t.
Aurora’s oncology team told us there was a protocol. Something that could’ve given her a real chance. But the insurance company denied it. The letter came in the mail with “denied” because it was “experimental.” That’s the exact word they used. Experimental. Like my daughter’s life was a science project they decided not to fund.
She’s not a lab rat. Do you know what it’s like to hold your little girl while they beg you not to die? To save them?
And you took away her opportunity to live. I’ve worked at the company for almost twenty years. Since I was in high school. Paid every single premium.
You had the nerve to fire me over being angry about it.
Do you know what happened the day I lost my job?
My baby girl lost her chemo.
One canceled insurance card and it vanished. Just like that. What kind of a system lets a child’s life depend on her father’s paycheck? I’ll tell you what kind. A fucking broken one.
Do you know how fast the bills rack up once you start paying them out of pocket? And we were already behind. I told you that in your office that day too, but you didn’t care about that any more than you cared about my daughter.
Twelve thousand dollars for one hospital stay. Forty-five hundred for one bag of poison. Can you believe toxic chemicals cost that much? Do you know what it does to a father watching the mail pile up with numbers so big you’d need two lifetimes to repay them?
