“Maybe they’ll throw in a bouquet,” he said dully.
I chuckled and crossed my ankles. “I’m not sure I’d have a vase to put it in.”
“Your mom’s got tons of them.” He hesitated. “I’m sure she’d lend one to you if Kat doesn’t have one at her place.”
“Kat’s packing up so she can move in with Victor,” I said.
Dad flexed his grip around the steering wheel. “I forgot about that.”
I bit my lip. “Did Mom give you all our recent life updates?”
He raised his eyebrows. “She said you got a boyfriend.”
“Yeah. I think you’ll like him,” I said.
Dad turned into the used car lot and sighed. “He’s gotta be better than Jen’s fella.”
“Most people are, I imagine. Although I guess I should reserve judgment until I meet him.” I got out and strode through the aisles of cars looking for my next long-term investment.
The frontmost salespeople hurried to talk to my dad, who flapped his palms in a gesture as if they were dogs that needed to heel. “Let us kick some tires for a minute. We’ll signal when we’re ready for more information,” he said.
It was weird. One salesperson waved from their computer, another laughed when I struggled to open the trunk on one of the models, and the rest chatted with their colleagues.
They all treated me like I was invisible or a small kid.
Yes, I came with a parent, but I had my own money. Some, anyway. I mentally calculated the monthly payments on a reliable little sedan with a clean interior. With the interest rate on the loan, I’d end up paying almost twice the listed price.
I groaned and draped myself over the steering wheel. “Why is life so expensive?”
Dad leaned in through the window. “Maybe ‘cause it’s valuable, even if it doesn’t go how you expect.”
I smiled sheepishly at him. “Ah, sorry. I’m just trying to get on my feet again without getting saddled with ten years of debt.”
“Is this your way of asking if your mom and I will chip in for the car?”
“No. Yes? Would that be an option? I could pay you back…with interest. Not as much as the dealership is asking for, but you'd still make money,” I said.
He eyed the promotional banners nearby. “A loan could build your credit score.”
“I’m sure I’ll have plenty of credit history by the time I’m done with med school,” I said.
“You’re going to finish?” Dad sounded much too enthusiastic.
“I…I’d like to,” I said. “Maybe a different program. But I might not be a good fit.”
“What makes you say that?”
My vision glazed over with memories. “Past failure. Crashes. I wasn’t cut out for selling underwear.”
He cleared his throat. “Didn’t you say the world lost a lot of great potential nurses because of a statistics class?”
“Yes.”
“So, what would you tell someone who failed it?”
“I guess that they should try again. But a guidance counselor told me to try something else.”
“They were basing their advice on statistics,” he said. “The program was hard. Most people weren’t up for it, therefore, you should quit.”
