tossing my hair into my field of vision.
Paid?
How could the whole amount be paid?
By whom?
My mind goes in circles.
So, it's not a computer glitch, and it was definitely done by an anonymous gift.
But the thing is that I never went to the news or set up the GoFundMe page.
I was going to do that later on today after making this call.
I put the phone in my pocket and start putting one foot slowly in front of the other.
"Someone paid her whole bill," I say out loud, trying to convince myself that this is actually true. “Someone paid her whole bill.”
I pace around, staring at my phone, trying to convince myself whether I actually heard what I think I heard.
No more money owed?
Some sponsor had paid the whole bill? Why? Who would do this?
I try to think of everyone I know who has any money whatsoever, and no names come up.
I pace around, feeling nervous and suddenly consider the very real possibility that it might be a joke.
I check the phone number.
Yes, that's correct.
I call again and get the same menu. Before I get to the operator, I hang up. I don't know what to do now.
I decide to head back to the car to get my laptop. Mom is still at the clinic, and I always have my laptop with me in my bag in the car.
I need to find out what really happened. That couldn't have been a prank, but what other possible explanation is there?
Who even knows about the situation? I grab my phone and log into their laborious and complicated system.
It reminds me of the internet from twenty years ago when they probably had the site set up and haven't changed a thing.
Finally, after clicking on the desktop version and zooming in on pages and pages of text, I find the right place to click and scroll over to the financial information dropdown menu.
I click on the first tab, and that's where I see it.
Invoice paid.
Amount due: $0.00.
I stare at the number on the screen.
Someone has paid the entire amount. My mom can get treatment.
Tears start to roll down my cheeks as this thought finally registers in my head.
"What's wrong? What happened?" Mom asks, rushing into the car, after probably seeing me crying from across the parking lot.
"Nothing. I'm so happy. What did the doctor say?" I ask.
"No news. All the signs are the same. Stable. At least things aren't getting worse."
“No. No, they're not," I say, wiping my tears. "They're getting a lot better."
“How so?”
"The money that we owe the Danick Clinic, it has been paid."
"What are you talking about?" She sits up, turns her body toward me, grasping on to her purse like a woman riding on the bus.
"I just called. I was going to ask for an extension or some sort of financial aid application, but the woman on the other end told me that everything has been paid."
“No. How would that even be possible?” she asks.
"That's what I thought, so I checked." I show her my phone and she stares at the amount.
"This must be a mistake. I don't know who would have done this."
"She said an anonymous donor who didn't want to be identified."
"We can't accept this gift."
"Of course we can. It's already done."
"Well, what if there are some strings attached?"
"It doesn't matter. Your life is worth more. Besides, the donation was anonymous. It's not like I would ever know or you would ever know who it came from."
She shakes her head in disbelief and then swallows hard, as a big lump forms in the back of her throat.
She tucks her tongue into the side of her mouth to stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks, but they do anyway.
"I can't believe this is happening."
"Me either."
I reach over and hold her, and she begins to cry.
She has always been so strong.
She doesn't show emotion much. The fact that she's shaking in my arms, like a leaf breaking free in the first storm of autumn, shows me that nothing is going to be the same after this.
17
Dante
The following morning, I wake up early to get to my morning flight. I prefer these flights because I can start the day in a new place and the only people who usually take them are business travelers.
No families.
No kids.
Everything is easier in the morning.
I woke up extra early to get in my five-mile run, and now I suddenly feel sluggish and hungry, annoyed at everyone in line ahead of me. I don't have to take