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Please find enclosed the financial breakdown for your reference. Take your time and let me know your thoughts.

Best Regards,

Dr. Samuel Schaeffer

I opened the attachment, and anxiety knotted my stomach. My appetite vanished, replaced by nausea.How was I going to pay for my mom’s treatment, never mind the new medication? Right now she couldn’t afford this so-called prototype, even with my help.

My mom raised me all on her own. She didn’t deserve this. She deserved a life filled with love, abundance, and great health. I stared at the amount of money only the wealthiest could afford. All those zeroes after the dollar sign sent me into panic mode.

Even if I sold my condo and used up my savings, I wouldn’t be able to afford it. The healthcare system was a scam. Why were medicines so expensive? Why did the insurance companies pick what they wanted to pay? They should pay for everything, considering all the money we had put into it. I didn’t understand it.

Anger melded with my anxiety, making everything worse. I wanted to return to my cabin, where I could be alone. Socializing wasn’t going to help me.

Calm down, Kiera.You can only solve problems with a clear head.

Maybe I could take out a loan? Or sign up for more freelance gigs?

Audri and Michelle would lend me money, but I couldn’t ask them. Shame and pride squirmed in me.

Don’t puke. Not in front of everyone.

“You okay?” Olivia asked. “You’re pale.”

I didn’t know these coworkers well enough to dump my personal issues on them. Shoving my problems aside, I inhaled a breath, placed a hand over my tummy, and forced a smile. “Just hungry. I’ll be fine.”

Needing fresh air, I pressed the button, and the window slid down, sending in a whoosh of air. The warm summer breeze usually brought me ease—summer was my favorite season—but right now I didn’t know if there was anything that could remove this anxiety.

The car stopped at a red light, and a couple strode in front of us at the crosswalk, hand in hand, looking comfortable and in love. Another wave of sadness rolled over me. Would I ever connect with anyone like that? Why was I being so sensitive?

I didn’t understand this loneliness inundating me. Stress did several inexplicable things to the body and mind.

My stomach growled, and everyone laughed.

“We’re almost there,” Bruno said.

The aromas of freshly cooked tortillas, grilled chicken, chilis, and the pungent and earthy smell of mezcal teased my nose, making me hungry again. The hunger and the lively atmosphere snapped me out of my depressed mood.

When I return to Providence, I’d sit down and make an action plan, reevaluating my finances. Seeing everything written down would help me understand the next steps. Unlike photography, which captured a moment in time by snipping away what wasn’t seen in the entire image, real life was everything in between.

I had to look at my problem from various angles so I could pay for my mom’s medical needs. There was always a solution to a problem.

A full stomach would help me think, and a drink would loosen me up.

Bruno pulled into a parking lot with a side patio with strings of lights crisscrossing under the large awning. Customers crowded the outdoor seating, and some even spilled onto the steps. I liked the casual environment. Samba music echoed through the chatter and laughter.

We got a table by the corner and ordered a tray of tortilla chips, guacamole, a seven-layer black bean dip, and mango habanero salsa. These appetizers alone satisfied me just fine. The guys ordered burritos and margaritas while Olivia and I got chicken quesadillas. I got a cantarito and Olivia got her chelada. Comfort food and cocktails were exactly what I needed.

I dug into my food and smiled. I had skipped lunch in place of unpacking and replying to emails to confirm my other freelance projects for the next six months. Editing photos was my forte, and repeat clients kept me busy. Though my schedule was full, I could still squeeze in a few minor projects. I needed the extra cash now more than ever.

I made good money as a fashion photographer, but not enough to shell out over two million dollars. That was how much it cost for a year of monthly blood transfusions and the medication trial to ease my mom’s pain. It was fucking ridiculous.

Did doctors just let patients die if they couldn’t afford to pay?

Stop thinking. Just eat and enjoy yourself. Worrying isn’t going to make you fast money.

As I finished my quesadilla and sipped my cantarito, my skin tingled.I ignored the strange sensation until I looked up, and all the air in me evaporated. My heart toppled over, rolled, and melted into the abyss. I locked eyes with the man who could make me feel more in one night than all my previous boyfriends combined.

The tingles intensified as they skipped down my spine.I took a slow inhale, and my heart recuperated and returned to its position. A hand went to my chest as though protecting my heart from some unseen threat.