The hospital billing clerk had left three white carbon copies on the swinging tray beside my bed.

The top sheet listed six thousand four hundred dollars for the emergency delivery alone, and the blue ink was already smudging under my thumb.

“Insurance covers eighty percent of the surgeon,” Kevin said, his voice flat and measured.

He clenched his jaw once as he lined up the corners of the papers on his knee.

“We have thirty days to pay the rest.”

I leaned forward to look at the second page, but a sharp pulling pain shot straight across my lower belly.

I gripped the aluminum side rail and eased back.

“Don’t move like that,” Kevin said, setting the papers down.

“You were cut open four hours ago.”

“I need to see what they charged for the room,” I said.

“The room doesn’t matter right now,” he said.

He folded the billing sheets into a neat rectangle and pushed them into his jacket pocket.

“What matters is getting your numbers down.”

The automatic cuff on my upper arm started to pump, squeezing hard enough to bruise my skin through the thin blue hospital gown.

The monitor on the wall chimed three quick notes and showed two red numbers: one hundred sixty-eight over one hundred four.

“Is that higher than before?” I asked.

“It’s gone up six points since noon,” Kevin said.

He stepped out into the hall to find a nurse.