“We have the savings for the flights and the hotel,” I said, my hand instinctively going to my silver wedding band.
Tony rubbed his calloused palms against his work trousers, the sound of the rough fabric loud in the small kitchen. He did not look at me.
“The travel insurance did not cover the medical equipment rental in Orlando,” Tony said. “They want four hundred dollars upfront for the specialized chair and the oxygen tanks at the hotel.”
“We do not have four hundred dollars,” I said, my sentences short and sharp.
“I know,” Tony said.
He slid his hand into his front pocket, his fingers brushing against a piece of folded paper that had not been there this morning. He did not pull it out, but his thumb traced the edge of it through the thin cotton.
“Is there any overtime at the complex?” I asked.
“No,” Tony said, looking down at the spreadsheet. “The budget is frozen until the first of the month.”
