Chapter 4 #3
She drops her eyes, swallowing hard. "I could not save her.
The Congo has seen more than its share of violence, of course.
She stepped on an old unexploded landmine.
I worked on her for hours. I stopped her from exsanguinating via severed femoral artery, but she developed a terrible infection that would not respond to antibiotics. I could do nothing."
"Fuck, man," I murmur. "That's brutal."
"Yes. It was quite brutal." She sighs. "In my profession, one is going to lose patients. It is simply a reality of the world—people die, and even the miracles of modern medicine cannot save everyone. But Atong…she left an indelible imprint on my heart. When she passed away, I swore an oath that I would go to her country and do what I could to help. I understand the risks. I know very well that I could be killed, kidnapped, violated, or merely trapped by airport closures, among a myriad of other possible risks. But I swore an oath to Atong’s memory.” Her eyes fill with tears. "I must find a way. I simply must."
"Well, when you put it like that…" I say, trailing off.
She blinks at me. “When I put it that way, what?"
“Oh. I just mean, when you put it that way, I can see why you're so determined. It's personal. It's not just a…fuck, what's the word? Altruistic—it's not just an altruistic desire to help, or some kind of virtue signaling.”
"Virtue signaling? I am virtuous, I think. I am flawed, of course, as are we all. But I…yes, I do not believe I would need to signal my virtue. Unless of course you mean virtue in the sense of…" she blushes. "The other sense."
I shake my head, laughing. "I don't know what the other sense is, babe."
"Virginity," she whispers.
"Oh." I laugh again. “No, definitely don't mean that. Virtue signaling is…ummm…”
Lainey arrives from the kitchen, then, with our food. "Lane, can you define virtue signaling? I can't spell that shit, let alone define it."
"Sure, um…" Lainey looks up and away, thinking.
"Posting something on social media purely for the attention, so people look at you and go, 'wow, that person must be super duper…
ummm…like, good. Morally good, I mean, because of this reason or that reason.
You're not doing anything of any value, it's purely for the attention, so people around you or online think you're this moral paragon or whatever.”
"Oh." Cadence blinks, tips her head to the side. "No. My mission to Sudan is not that."
Lainey makes a surprised face. "Girl, you're trying to go where?”
“South Sudan."
"Why?"
"I am a medical doctor. I wish to provide medical care to those suffering from the war."
"You've got wayyyy bigger balls than I do," Lainey says, laughing. "Shit, I get scared leaving Three Rivers."
"You refer to metaphorical testicles, I assume, as it does appear to me that you are transgender, and I certainly am not."
Lainey snickers. "Yeah, metaphorical testicles, for sure. All lady bits here. So, when do you leave?"
"That is the issue at hand," Cadence says, unwrapping her fork from the paper napkin and prodding at the sandwich with it.
"I cannot go. I am short eighty thousand, four hundred and sixty-two dollars and forty-seven cents, and I am meant to depart in fifteen days and…
" She looks at the analog Garfield clock on the wall behind the counter. “Twelve hours."
Lainey stares out the window. "Well, what was it…two years ago? Yeah, it was before Bear showed up, that winter before he got out. Callie Masters got sick. Remember, Rye?"
I nod, recalling. “God, yeah, how could I forget?
" I address Cadence. "Callie was the type of girl everyone loved, y'know?
Prom queen, but the type of girl who invited the kid with Down syndrome to go as her date.
She didn't tell anyone, didn’t record it or make a big deal about it, she just showed up on Barry's arm like a boss. Man, that kid was on cloud nine for weeks. She did fundraisers for underprivileged kids, and she…man, Callie was the shit.”
"Oh dear," Cadence says. "I am not sure I like where this is going, based on your usage of past tense."
Lainey takes over. "It has a happy ending.
She got treatment and beat the cancer. She's in school in Glasgow, now, I think.
The reason I bring it up is that Callie's family was poor as hell, and they couldn’t afford the treatments she needed.
Insurance, obviously, wouldn't do dick, because why would they, the fuckers.
Useless, piece of shit, motherfucking—" she trails off, muttering.
"Sorry. I've just had my own issues with insurance.
Anyway. Callie's family started a fundraiser here in town.
And they needed way more than eighty grand. "
"Cancer treatment is exorbitantly expensive," Cadence says. "I do not need to imagine the costs involved."
"Exactly. People around here are generous, that's the point. I bet you could probably put that much together."
Cadence sighs, frowning. "Perhaps. This Callie, however, was a known quantity. People in your town knew her. They cared for her. I am a stranger. An outsider. I have no claim to their heartstrings."
I grin. "Babe, you don't know Three Rivers. I can't make any promises, but it's worth a shot."
She peers at me steadily. "Please, Riley. Do not play upon my hopes."
I cover her hand. "I told you, I'm not promising anything.
But Lainey is right—we know people. And we know people who know people.
Make it an event, get the right folks to talk it up, get you up on stage telling your story, just how you told it to me, about Atong? I bet you'd clear eighty-grand easily."
"S-Stage?" She breathes, looking utterly petrified at the mere thought. "My goodness, absolutely not. I could not do that. Absolutely not."
Lainey claps me on the shoulder. "Well, good thing our buddy Riley Crowe can charm the panties off a nun."
Cadence rears back. "You…what?"
I laugh, playfully shoving Lainey. "Figure of speech, Cadence. I’ve never attempted to charm a nun's underwear off."
"Oh. I see. Meaning you are so charming you can convince anyone to do anything."
"I dunno about all that."
Lainey cackles, leaning toward her. "Junior year, he convinced Mrs. Murphy, the history teacher, that Fast Times at Ridgemont High was a historical film and the class should have to watch it."
"I do not watch television."
Lainey laughs. "Well, then the reference won't mean much. Point is, that movie is not suitable for viewing in a classroom."
"Lots and lots of awkward boners when Phoebe Cates walked outta that water, lemme tell ya. Mrs. Murphy was out of her seat so fast it's a wonder she didn't break the sound barrier."
"That is impossible," Cadence says.
I laugh. "No shit." I squeeze her hand. "What we're saying is, don't give up yet, Cadence. Three Rivers just might come through for you."