You Can’t Afford Me
The silence changed. The warm anticipation vanished into a collective, shocked breath.
Thomas’s smile froze. Karen’s tissue dropped to her lap. Megan sat bolt upright.
“Thirteen years ago, on the day I was diagnosed, I was told my life wasn’t worth the cost of saving it,” I said, my voice echoing like a gavel.
I reached into my gown and pulled out the crisp envelope Thomas had given me, and held it up. “Yesterday, the man in the VIP section — the man running for Mayor of this city — offered me a cashier’s check for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The exact cost of my medical-school education.”
Murmurs erupted at the back.
The news cameras swiveled off the stage and zoomed in on Thomas, suddenly pale, his eyes wide. He half-stood, opening his mouth, but he had no microphone.