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“And why would I do that?” he shot back, turning to follow me to the coffee station.
“Because being a criminal isn’t a valid career path.”
“I get that you got out and made something of yourself, Ama, but not all of us were cut out for medical school,” he told me. “I’m proud of you. The neighborhood is proud of you. But your path isn’t everyone else’s path,” he told me, filling up a large paper cup, then slipping on the top.
I tried like hell not to notice the way my belly did a little flip-flop at his words, at hearing that he was proud of me.
The fact of the matter was, once I went away to school, there was no one around anymore to say that to me. And while I tried really hard in my life not to base my esteem on external validation, it felt really good to just… hear someone say it.
Why did it have to be him?
Why did he have to keep just… being decent?
Having no idea how Christian took his coffee, I made his the same as mine and Michael’s. A little cream, a little more sugar than was probably healthy.
“Not everyone is meant for medical school, no,” I agreed as I grabbed a tray. “But there had to be better options than becoming an arms-dealing biker.”
“Other options, yes,” he agreed, nodding. “Better options? I don’t know about that. If it weren’t for me making this choice, what are the chances that the clinic you love so much wouldn’t have had to close its doors a long time ago?” he asked, moving away, leaving me to watch him as he went up to the counter to pay.
And it took everything I had not to scold him when I saw Ray pass him a pack of cigarettes.
I couldn’t tell you how long I stood there, not quite grasping what he’d just said to me before it finally clicked.
The only reason the clinic managed to stay open most months was because of the large sum of cash donated to it.
In an unsigned envelope.
Withmyname on the front.
It was Seeley.
It had always been Seeley.
Dropping off the cash to keep us afloat.
I’d always figured it was from someone who got the money, you know, less than legally. There was a lot of that going on in our area. And most of those people had, at some point, used the clinic as their main source of healthcare. So they were showing us support.
It was the only logical thing to assume, since they couldn’t write it off on their taxes without a receipt.
But if they weren’t filing taxes in the first place because the money wasn’t exactly obtained in a legal way, then it made sense why it showed up anonymously.
I just… never imagined it would be him.
Maybe because it was so much and so steady.
I figured it was one of the gangs. I knew they were making a killing when I saw them around with their expensive jewelry and nice cars.
I couldn’t have imagined it would be Seeley. Especially since we hadn’t exactly been on good terms. And because he had no real attachment to the clinic like others might have.
Sighing, and trying to shake thoughts of him from my mind, I grabbed a cup of ramen and a protein bar, promising myself I’d eat something green when I got home, and made my way to the counter.
“Nah, you’re good, Doc.”
“What? No. I insist,” I said, shaking my head.
It wasn’t uncommon for people in the area to offer me cheap or free goods or services in thanks. But the fact of the matter was, that while I was struggling a bit currently, thanks to my student loans and trying to save up some money to eventually possibly be a part owner in the clinic, I would eventually be in a better place. While many of these people would always know struggle. Like my grandmother had. Like I had growing up.
“Nah, Doc. He covered it,” Ray said, holding up a hundred. “And all the homeless ‘round here for a solid week or so,” he added, sliding his finger and making another hundred pop out. “This is on top of what he already gave me last night. You know,” he added as he stashed the money, knowing he had to keep it safe. Right there next to the gun he kept under the counter and had needed to use a time or two over the years.
