“Your mother lives just down the road,” he said.

“My mother is fifty-eight and lives on a fixed pension from her bookkeeping job,” I said.

“She doesn’t have spare cash lying around to buy nursery supplies while you go off fishing.”

“She can loan you twenty bucks,” he said, jingling the truck keys in his pocket.

“My car’s gas tank is empty because you spent the last five-dollar bill on your work truck,” I said.

“How am I supposed to get to the clinic if their fevers spike tonight?”