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Cali didn’t speak. When the silence drew out, I wondered if he had heard me. With his arms holding me tighter, I knew there was something wrong. Forcing my way out of his arms, I rolled over and looked at him. His eyes were lowered. What had I said?
“What’s the matter?” I asked him.
“There’s something going on that I can’t fix,” he said, eventually breaking his silence.
I placed my palm on his chest, aching from his pain.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me. Please, let me in,” I told him, ready to beg.
As soon as I asked, he pulled himself together.
“It’s nothing. I’ll handle it. I’ll figure out a way.”
“Don’t do that. My father does that. He solves problems and the way he does it…,” I said losing myself to Remy’s stories. “If you care about me, I need to believe that you trust me enough to help. I’m not weak or a burden. I need you to think more of me than that. I can’t take you seeing me that way as well.
“Someone has to see me as worth something. If it isn’t you, I don’t know who it will be,” I said for the first time touching the depth of my pain.
“You’re right. I can trust you. You’ve done more for me in the short time I’ve known you then people I’ve known my whole life. If there’s anyone I can trust, it’s you.”
“Then tell me. Maybe I can help. At least give me that chance.”
Cali’s gaze washed over me before drifting away. It took a moment, but eventually he said, “My mother needs surgery.”
“Oh no,” I said feeling his pain.
“It’s okay. Dr. Tom tells me it’s not a complex procedure. She just needs it as soon as I can afford to pay it.”
“That’s great.”
“Except, I can’t afford it. I haven’t told my mother, but I know what’s in her bank account. She can’t afford it either.
“Is that it? Are you just worried about the money?”
“Money’s a big deal. I don’t know what it’s like to grow up in a penthouse in New York City. But here in Snow Tip Falls, money doesn’t grow on trees.”
I could see Cali’s frustration, and he was right. It was my crazy upbringing that made me think that something like this wasn’t what the rest of the world fought over. Wasn’t money what drove my father to do the things I was told he did?
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I told him apologetically. “It’s just that I have money.”
“And that’s great for you—”
“No, I mean I have cash. I brought it with me.”
“That’s very nice of you. But the surgery will cost thousands of dollars.”
“And that’s what I brought. Whatever you need, I can give you. And if I don’t have it on me, there are ways I can get it.”
“I know you’re trying to be nice by saying that. But I can’t take your money.”
“Why not? Besides, it’s not my money. I mean, it’s my money, but you wouldn’t be taking it from me. You would be putting it to use in a way that helps people.
“I want to help you. I think I need to help you. Your mother might be in the situation she is because of me. If I can fix that by giving you a bunch of paper from the trunk of my car, you’ve got to let me do it,” I told him, feeling desperate.
“Hil…”
“Cali, please. Really, please,” I said, realizing I wouldn’t be able to take it if he said no.
He must have seen my sincerity. Or, maybe he was just feeling sorry for me. Because without being able to look me in the eyes, he nodded his head, agreeing to let me give it to him.
