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Declan barely touched his food, but emptied his glass rather quickly and relaxed on the couch. He had become withdrawn lately, and I couldn’t blame him. The elephant was in the room, and sometimes it was hard to ignore.

“Hey, cheer up, okay?” I said, mostly to myself. “We’ll figure it out, and you’ll get better.”

He looked at me, as if saying Do you really believe that?

I was used this look, so I nodded, thinking that perhaps it was the wine giving me the optimism. Either way, I’d take it.

We watched another episode, as I finished my noodles. When it ended, I said, “Do you want to stay here tonight? Julia will be back late, so…”

“Nah. I’ll head home, read a book. I don’t sleep much, anyway. Thanks for letting me invite myself.” He began to get up, slowly, minding his balance.

“I’m here for you, Declan. You just let me know if you need anything. Keep your phone nearby.”

“Always do, don’t I?” his phone was in his hand, and I saw the Uber app was open on it.

“Good. I’ll try to visit you over the weekend, okay? And I’ll take care of that bill, so don’t stress about it.”

He nodded wistfully, looking aside. “Thank you.”

“Don’t even mention it.” I kissed his cheek and watched him leave.

I wasn’t honest with him. I was short on money, and would have to borrow some from Julia and some other friends, if I wanted to pay that bill before the end of the month.

Quietly desperate, I sat back down in front of the TV, poured myself another glass and finished Declan’s food. Just like the good old days.

Just moments later, the front door swung open, and Julia stepped in. She walked straight to the table and landed in the armchair. “I’m exhausted!” She proclaimed. “Oh, and I met Declan downstairs! Asked him if he put on weight.”

“Did he tell you to fuck off?”

“He did!”

That put a smile on my lips. Julia checked out the bottle, and took a sip from my glass.

“Yum!”

“Get another bottle,” I suggested, finishing the wine.

At first, Julia was about to get up, but then I sensed something was amiss. She grabbed the bill from the table. “Shit! They’re still chasing you for treatment payment. What the fuck is insurance for these days? How is he feeling anyway?”

“He’s making it.” Now I was feeling the same way my brother had felt. I said, “But the money is bad, Julia. I don’t mean to beg or anything, just letting you know.”

“How much?” my friend asked, reaching into her handbag.

I grinned, “In the long run, more than you could possibly have in your wallet, so, please, don’t.”

Not yet anyway, I wanted to look at my own bank account first, see how dire this all really was.

“Wasn’t going to.” Instead of a wallet, Julia produced a bunch of colorful fliers and began sifting through them. “It must be somewhere in here… Got it!”

She handed me a crumpled piece of paper. There was a carnival mask at the top, with Chicago Buyer’s Club written below it. There was a date and a phone number, but little else.

“I got it from a friend. There’s this fancy place, where billionaires look for girls to go on dates with, sort of like The Bachelor.”

“You’re suggesting I prostitute myself?”

“Not at all! It’s a legit thing. You go there to hang out, find a guy, have a few drinks. It’s a paid gig, I’m told, too, so I thought you could use that…”

“Right. Well, I don’t think I could.”

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