“What about me, Dad? Do you want me to die, too? Because that’s what I’m slowly doing to myself.”

“Stop being so dramatic. You just need a bit of rest.”

“A bit of rest?” Joanna said, leaping off the bed. “A bit of rest!”

Bolting from the room, Joanna returned a minute later holding a wad of envelopes in her hand. Tossing them on the bed, she said, “These are bills from just last week. How the hell am I supposed to get rest and pay these things off—huh? I’ve opened and closed so many credit cards that I’ve lost track, just trying to buy us some time, but I’ll never be able to pay off the interest, let alone the principal. Do you have any idea how much you owed before you got sick? Well, double it, Dad, or maybe even triple it because that’s what we owe now.”

“What?” Robert said, fumbling through the bills. “That can’t be right. How can that be right?”

“It’s called interest compounded daily on over a dozen credit cards that you stretched to their limits, Dad. It’s called food and rent, and visiting nurses and medications and clothes. It’s called Tube fares and bus tickets and utility bills that just seem to keep going up and up and up.”

Robert ran his hand over the envelopes scattered across the bedspread. “I just tried to give you the best life I could. I never thought...I never thought this would happen.”

“Well it has, Dad. We’re in a pickle, and unless I do this, things are only going to get worse.”

“Then file for bankruptcy,” Robert blurted.

“What?”

“You heard. File for bankruptcy. That will take care of the bills, and we can get on with our lives without you having to pretend to be something you’re not.”

Joanna plopped down on the bed and let out a sigh. “So we just tell all those creditors sorry about your luck? Thanks for the money, but we won’t be paying you back. Have a nice day? Is that really the way you raised me because I can’t seem to remember that particular lesson.”

“It’s the only way.”

“No, it’s not! I have a way out, and it’s a good one. Everyone gets paid, and we get a better life. Why can’t you just put your bloody prejudice aside for a sodding minute and see that?”

“I do not want people to think my daughter is a queer.”

Joanna tilted her head to the side. “So, it’s your pride then. Is that it? You’re worried about what people will think.”

“Call it pride if you want.”

“Well, your pride is going to put us out on the bloody street!”