Don’t Sue

“We’re not going to sue.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you can hardly believe that you’ve said it.

There’s a sharp intake of breath on your father’s end.

“You sure about that, son? You can have a minute to reconsider.”

“Yes. Keep your minute. We’re not doing it,” you reply.

“At least you’re firm in your convictions. That’s the one good thing to come out of this,” your father sighs. “There’s just one problem.”

“What’s that?” you ask, dreading the answer already.

“Your medical bills. They aren’t going to pay for themselves.”

“Damn. Right,” you say, mentally kicking yourself. You’ve been living with your parents for so long that it’s strange to handle your own finances now. “I was thinking that my RA job could cover it, but if the bill ends up being as large as we think it could be… maybe some help could be useful?”

You ask the final sentence meekly, internally bracing yourself for the firestorm to come.

“This is your decision. You’ll deal with the consequences,” your father says. “I can’t extend any more help than I’ve given already.”

“I know,” you say, almost pleasantly surprised by your father’s relatively even-keeled reaction. “But you said you would handle the bills for the lawsuit, if we went ahead with that. Isn’t it unfair that you’d be willing to pay in that case, but not this one?”

That gives your father a bit of pause. He mulls it over for a second, and then you hear his gruff agreement over the phone.

“Let me think on it.”

With that, he hangs up the phone, leaving you completely unsure of what he intends to do.

You enter the Writing Seminar classroom and are immediately struck by the crestfallen look on Charmaine’s face.

“You couldn’t have stuck with it?” Charmaine asks. “My mom would have been the perfect lawyer.”

“How does she know already?” you ask your sister, deliberately ignoring Charmaine.

“Apparently dad texted her mom first thing after you called him,” Lisa says, and you give her an appreciative nod.

“So it’s true,” you nod back, and a look of utter relief spreads across Lucille’s face.

“Thank fucking god,” she mutters, and then she looks up at you. “I knew you had it in you.”

“It’s nothing,” you say, just as the professor walks in.

“What’s the big commotion? Come on, friends, we’ve got books to discuss, not gossip,” he says, waving his hands with excitement. He pulls out a book and rests it on the table. “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. So. What do we think?”

And with that, class begins running along as usual, leaving nothing but the occasional appreciative look from Lucille and the annoyed glance from Charmaine as a reminder of your decision.

Lucille +30
Charmaine -10