My father stood by the granite island, holding a glass of sparkling water with two slices of lime.
I laid the blue loan agreement on the counter between us, the pages crisp and bright under the pendant lights.
“It only requires a single signature on the third page,” I said.
My father tapped his index finger against his leather belt buckle, his gaze fixed on the sink.
“The timing is very difficult, Clara,” he said.
“The deadline is Friday,” I said. “Without the co-signer, the interest rate jumps to fourteen percent.”
He set his glass down, the sound sharp against the stone.
“We have to prioritize the investments that actually show immediate returns, Clara,” he said.
“This is my final semester of medical school,” I said. “My residency starts in July.”
“Tiffany is expanding her online boutique to three new platforms this month,” he said, his voice remaining level and dry. “I cannot risk my credit score with another open line of debt right now.”
