“We have the money, Gerald,” I said, pointing to the printed balance. “A consultation with Dr. Vance is only one hundred and fifty dollars. If he recommends the surgery, the co-pay is two hundred and fifty.”
He did not look up from his screen. His thumb flicked upward, scrolling through something I could not see.
“The medical system is a business, Lyla,” he said. “They will tell you whatever you want to hear to get you on the schedule, if you think about it.”
“I have wanted this for decades,” I said, my voice dropping. “I just want to be able to stand in line at the grocery store without counting the minutes.”
Gerald tapped his phone screen three more times, his expression blank.
“Let’s wait until the winter term ends,” he said. “We will have a better idea of our heating bills by January.”
I pulled the blue heating pad tighter around my shoulders, but the warmth felt dry and useless against the deep ache in my spine.
