“Maybe tonight is more important than any celebration,” she adds.
I take a sip. It’s smooth. Warm. A much-needed comfort after the day I've had.
We sit in silence for a moment, listening to Mom breathe.
Finally, I whisper, “How was class?”
Emily shrugs. “Gross. Fascinating. Terrifying. All at once.” Then she looks at me, "She won't wake up. Not for a while anyway."
I nod, understanding that when Mom's body finally allows sleep to come and the meds work, she can sleep throughanything. “Anyone interesting?” I ask, defaulting to familiar ground.
She smirks. “There’s this girl in my group who used to strip to pay for undergrad.”
I choke slightly on my wine. “Em.”
“What?” she says innocently. “It's enlightening. Kind of I don't know... empowering.”
“What?”
She shrugs again. “Life. I don't know. She wants to be a doctor, and she will be a great one. But she comes from less than nothing. She is an absolute knockout, so she used the only currency she had and is now on her way to becoming a doctor.”
I laugh despite myself. “Go on.”
“Well,” she continues, swirling her wine, “apparently, she stopped because she met this older guy. Obscene money. Like, doesn’t know what to do with itmoney.”
I glance at her. “And?”
“And now he pays for everything. Tuition. Rent. Trips. Shiny things. She calls him her… benefactor.”
I frown. “You mean sugar daddy.”
Emily grimaces. “That’s the term, yes.”
I study my little sister for a moment; she is still so young, yet the weight she carries seems to age her.
I hesitate, then ask quietly, “Would you ever… consider something like that?”
She doesn’t answer right away.
She takes another sip.
“Not for jewelry,” she says finally. “Or vacations. Or stupid shit.”
I nod.
“But” she adds, eyes fixed on the mug, “to finish school? To help Mom? To take some of the pressure off you?”
She lets the words hang between us, and my stomach twists.
Emily looks at me then, really looks. “I would.”
The room feels heavier.
I stare at Mom’s sleeping face, at the new lines time and illness have etched there.
“God,” I whisper. “I don’t want you thinking like that.”
“I already do,” she replies gently. “Because I see you.”
