As they swept into the waiting area that Saturday, Raven in lilac robes, Gawain in forest green, AJ felt oddly subdued. Their presence was yet another indicator of Patrick’s long recovery.
“Katie,thereyou are,” boomed Raven, unveiling a bouquet of white crystal rods from inside her cloak. “We can all relax—I found the selenite for Patrick’s room.”
“Are you sure that’s necessary?” said AJ’s mom, looking up fromWomen’s Healthmagazine.
“Of course,” said Raven. “Goddess only knows whoelsedied in there. And AJ! I hear the hand-fasting rites will soon be uponyou,young lady.” She winked audaciously, and AJ grinned.
It was hard to say who loved whom more. AJ loved Raven for inspiring her breakout run of sketches, “1-800-Amethyst.” Raven loved AJ for making her “immortal through art.”
“Where is the younggalante?” asked Raven, her pale blue eyes boring into AJ’s.
“He’s covering spring training,” said AJ. Raven blinked. “For baseball,” AJ clarified.
“Ah well, I’m sure we’ll meet him soon,” said Raven. She turned to AJ’s mother with a severe look. “Did you get the email I sent you about the Reiki attunements over in Great Barrington?”
Katie Graves blanched. “I, uh—”
“It’s very important that everyone handling the baby has first degree,” she said emphatically. “It’scrucial.”
AJ’s mother dropped the magazine on her lap. “I did raise five kids, Raven.”
“Yes, and I’m sorry to say that not one of them—sorry, AJ—is inrealalignment. Speaking of, there isn’t a moment to waste—the moon is almost at its zenith!”
“Optimal for healing,” explained Gawain as Raven billowed down the hall toward Patrick’s room. AJ’s mom waited for about five seconds,then threwWomen’s Healthonto an empty chair and strode after Raven, muttering, “I’ll show you alignment.”
Gawain gave AJ a cheery smile, then took a seat, producing a crochet needle and a hat he was making for baby Claire. Under his breath, he hummed “Moonshadow,” by Cat Stevens.
That spring, AJ pitchedsketches about the whimsical sadists who made candy-colored scrubs, a woman who descended into madness trying to get healthcare to cover her vending machine tab, and grief as a competitive sport. Her own grief was sharpening her work, and everyone noticed.
“Age, you’re really heating up,” said Grady, after the table read for her “Grief Bowl” sketch. Once, this praise would have made AJ’s year, but it now felt empty. Instead, AJ looked at forty-three-year-old Grady, who did nothing but chug Red Bull and talk out of his ass, and wondered why the fuck he got to have two working legs while Pat had to shit into a bag.
For Easter, AJ sent Brian ahead to his folks in Connecticut, while she stopped over in Gladstone. She arrived at Simmons on Saturday morning to discover a strange, upsetting scene: her mother outside Patrick’s room, crying into the arms of Raven Mabon-Fay.
AJ automatically backtracked around the corner, but not before she heard her mother say, “It’s so much. How are they ever going to manage?”
“I don’t know,” said Raven soothingly. “I’m putting all the energy on it that I can—”
“Seven hundred and thirtythousanddollars,” gasped Katie Graves. “Our house isn’t even worth that—”
“It’s staggering,” said Raven. “And that’safterthe insurance.”
“He still has more surgeries,” said AJ’s mom. “And all the physical therapy…”
“Trust the Universe,” chanted Raven, and AJ heard her mom sob.
Numbly, AJ retraced her steps to the waiting room. Over the past month, Patrick had continued to progress. The spinal fusions seemed to be mending without complications, and he was now able to grip things with his right hand and wiggle the toes on his right foot.
The left side of his body, however, remained inert. He was still bedridden.
AJ had known that it must be costing a fair amount for Patrick to be in treatment at Simmons, but three-quarters of a million dollars was a sum AJ couldn’t even conceptualize. The most money she had ever seen at once was the $72,826 she had made for her work onInto the Blue,which, like a good Irish girl, she’d converted into the down payment for her apartment.
Elle and Patrick owned their home, but other than that they had no assets. They didn’t lead a lavish lifestyle, but Elle didn’t work, so they were basically subsisting on Patrick’s disability from his job managing a local car dealership.
Seven hundred thirty thousand dollars. A bill half that much would ruin them.
What were they going to do?
When AJ entered the waiting room, she found Libby chatting with her brother’s nurse, Melissa. AJ did a double take—Libby’s smile looked brighter than it had since Pat’s accident. Like she was actually…enjoying herself.
