Partly, I was outraged that he thought I was the type of person who would do anything, evenmarry, for money. Someone he could just buy and use. The audacity of this dude.
And then there was his…pity for me, the poor girl with the bad knee. Which felt even worse than being treated like a money-hungry wolf.
If there was one thing both Mom and I hated most in life, it was being pitied. Which was why she never showed her pain at dad’s abandoning us in public. She didn’t want the pies or the looks, or even the half-hearted pats on the back and half-hugs. She wanted to be treated like the strong woman she was.
Fortunately, I wasn’t returning to the hospital that evening. Somehow, Sebastian had been able to arrange my being discharged from the hospital earlier than they had planned. Which I had to admit was great news, since I had no idea how I was going to pay for anything they were offering me nor my current stay there. My hotel room was already paid for until the end of the week. It was a small silver lining in this whole mess I had walked into.
We didn’t talk about the proposal after the meal. Nor in the car on the way back. But as he was helping me up the stairs to the hotel, he stopped and looked at me directly.
“Elly…”
I was afraid of what was coming.
“Yes?”
“Please think about it. Not for me. Do it for yourself. For your mom. Please.” His voice was soft as he squeezed my hand.
One of the receptionists arrived, carrying my delivery of crutches. I took each under my shoulders. Sebastian turned and walked back to the building. Both I and the receptionist watched him leave as if we were mesmerized.
“God, he’s a handsome one,” the receptionist murmured, her eyes not leaving the road. She turned to look at me with what can only be described as a look of confusion.
What she was saying was, “God, how did she get him?”
CHAPTER15
ELLY
“Hi, Mom.” I settled back against the pillows, my leg carefully propped on more pillows from the closet. I was ready for the weight of the emotions that would fill up my screen.
“Elly! Oh, I’m so glad you finally called. All we’ve been hearing is from the news. Where are you? How are you? What really happened?”
Unlike during our regular talks, Mom’s face was pressed against the screen. As if she was trying to transport herself into my hospital room. But I was glad she couldn’t. Nor did I want her to find out about Simone’s abandoning me and Sebastian’s idea. The last thing she needed was worry.
“Erm…I haven’t been watching TV so I wouldn’t know what people are saying. And anyway…”
“Please, Elly. Tell me. How bad is it?”
I kept my eyes down. Should I tell her the truth?
What, and go down Sebastian’s path of manipulation? No thanks…
But Elly, your mom is sick. How can you be so picky?
I shared a little of what the doctors had said about my prognosis. It pained her to hear it, I could tell from her eyes. They were little holes of pain dancing.
“Mom, please don’t worry. I…I…” What could I offer her in return?
I’d seen a photo memory on my phone that day. It showed Mom dressed in her best business suit (that she’d had for years and called her lucky suit) and me dressed down in jeans and a neon pink T-shirt that said “GRL POWER.” I still had that T-shirt but I’d never dare walk out in the streets wearing it anymore. We’re both smiling at the camera, eyes squinting against the midday sun. I was taller than Mom by then—my legs looked stretched out compared to Mom’s short profile, even with her wearing heels. We were standing out a bank, its name clear on the sign above our heads, Benson and Burners. Mom had grabbed someone walking out of the automatic doors of the bank and asked them to take this photo. The guy’s name had been Stuart. Or Stanley? I can’t remember.
What I do remember is the feeling of Mom signing the final agreement for the loan. The overwhelming feeling of pleasure, excitement, dread, and guilt. Pleasure and excitement because I was finally going to do what I’ve always wanted: play tennis professionally. But, at the same time, dread and guilt because I was dedicating my whole life to what my high school friends would smirk and call “chasing balls all day.” And my mom was dedicating and sacrificing her life to allow me to do that.
My mom had signed off on a huge loan that day so that I could finally go professional. So, I could train with the best coaches, fly to international competitions, get enough exposure to find a sponsor, and finally make it. She said it was an investment in my future.
Now, seeing her on the screen of my phone, looking so much smaller and frailer than she had done in that photo, only the feeling of dread and guilt returned. I had done this to her. If she hadn’t gone into so much debt, then she would probably…no, most definitely would have been able to afford her surgery.
Could I tell my mom that there was no hope for her? That the one chance we had, I blew it? Literally?
A message flashed across the screen. It was only a few seconds. I didn’t even finish reading it before it retreated.