“I sent the link three weeks ago,” I said, keeping my voice level. “It only takes two minutes to put in the card number.”
“Busy,” David said.
“It is one weekend,” I said. “I have worked four years for this day.”
“We have to prioritize the investments that actually show immediate returns, Clara,” he said.
“My degree is an investment,” I said.
He picked up the box, walked past me into the garage, and did not turn back when the door began to slide down.
The exhaust from his car was still warm in the evening air, smelling of oil and old rubber.
I stood on the asphalt until the automatic light in the garage timed out, leaving the driveway in dark gray shadow.
The hospital break room smelled of damp concrete and warm polyester. On the counter, a plate of stale donuts from the lobby cart sat under plastic wrap, marked with a hand-written sign that read four dollars.
Brenda, the night-shift charge nurse, poured two inches of dark coffee into a paper cup and handed it to me.
“You look like you need this,” she said.
I took the cup, letting the heat warm my fingers. My silver watch showed three in the morning.
“I have a double shift on the pediatric ward,” I said. “Then an ambulance run at five.”
“When do your parents get in?” Brenda asked, leaning against the laminate counter. “Have they booked their flights yet?”
I took a sip of the bitter coffee. “I am sure they just have a lot on their minds with the new business.”
“It is a medical school graduation, Clara,” Brenda said. “People clear their schedules for that.”
“Tiffany is launching her online boutique this month,” I said, staring at the brown liquid in my cup. “They are helping her with the logistics.”
“Your sister is twenty-two,” Brenda said. “She can mail her own packages.”
“They invested in it,” I said. “They want to make sure it succeeds.”
