The Day Rate My Sister Charged

Thirteen Fifty

The hospital let me go home on the ninth morning. A nurse named Kim walked me down to the doors with the walker, and Luke had the truck pulled right up with the seat leaned back and a pillow on it.

On the way home, he stopped at the bank in town. He went in alone with the withdrawal slip I had signed and came back out with an envelope.

“Sixty-seven twenties and a ten,” he said, setting it in my lap. “The teller asked if we were buying a cow.”

“Tell her a heifer,” I said. “We’re buying a heifer.”

He helped me into the house. Krista’s car was already in the drive, because she had brought Rhett over to meet us. Paisley was at school. I had asked Krista to let her go, to keep things normal for her.

Rhett came at me so fast Luke had to catch him by the overalls. I got down as far as the walker would let me and kissed the top of his head about forty times. He smelled like Krista’s laundry soap.

Then Luke said he needed to run to the pharmacy for my prescriptions. He looked at me over Rhett’s head. I nodded. He kissed my forehead and went out the door.

“I’ll make some coffee,” Krista said.

“Sit with me a minute first,” I said. “Or stand. Whichever.”

She stood. I sat. And I took the envelope out of the pocket of my gray sweatshirt and opened it with my teeth and my good hand, and I started to count.

When I got to the end of the twenties, I laid the ten down by itself, on top.

“Thirteen fifty,” I said. “Nine days. That’s all of it.”

Krista looked at the money. She did not touch it. Her face had gone a color I had not seen on it since we were girls and she got caught taking the car without asking.

“You didn’t have to do it like this, Whit,” she said.

“I did,” I said. “You were right. Your time is worth something. Mine is too. I want us square.”

She opened her mouth and closed it.

“My rehab starts tomorrow,” I said. “Outpatient physical therapy in Lafayette, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday, for six weeks. Occupational therapy on the arm on top of that. And Luke goes back to full shifts tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said slowly.

“I can’t shower by myself yet. I can’t get my own socks on, or my jeans. I can’t lift Rhett. I can’t drive. Paisley needs her lunch packed and her hair done before the bus at seven fifteen.”

“Whitney, what are you asking me?”

“I’m not asking,” I said. “I’m hiring.”

The kitchen got very quiet. Rhett ran a truck into her foot and made a crash noise. She did not look down.

“Same rate,” I said. “A hundred and fifty a day. Cash, every evening, right here at this table. Starting at six tomorrow morning.”