“Money, why does anyone do anything? These treatments are promising but they cost money. Insurance won’t cover them. We already got a second mortgage to cover the chemotherapy but it’s nowhere near enough to try this. And I’m not going to lose him over something as stupid as money.”

I nod. Why does it always come to that? Why does everything seem to revolve around a few pieces of paper that someone infused with value?

I hear the anger in her voice and I feel her pain.

I don’t understand it because I’m not going through it but I sympathize and I wish there was something I could do to make things right.

“That’s why this has to work,” she says, her fingers trembling. “We have to make it work.”

We drive in silence all the way to the booth. My heart is pounding out of my chest when we get there. An alert agent dressed with a stern look on his face comes up to my driver’s side.

“Passports please,” he says.

24

Nicholas

When we cross the border…

I hand the officer my passport and then turn to Dorothy and say, “C’mon, hurry up. It’s not like you didn’t have three fucking hours to get it out.”

She cringes and searches for hers in the glove compartment.

“What was your business in Mexico?” he asks.

“We’re full-time RVers,” Dorothy pipes in. “We sold our house last year and got this rig here, and we love it.”

“She got a name?” he asks, looking at my passport. For a second, I hesitate. She? What is he talking about?

“Of course, she does!” Dorothy says, handing him her passport. “Sorry about that, we had an issue and we had to get the manual out. Well, you know what that’s like, right? Everything in that thing gets all jumbled up.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, looking at her passport.

“Freedom!” Dorothy yells over me.

“Ma’am?” he asks.

“Freedom. That’s the name of our RV. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Yes, it is,” he says rather disinterested.

“Okay, well, everything seems to be in order here. Wait for a moment while we get the dog to sniff around.”

He walks away before either of us can say a word.

We exchange knowing looks and hold our breath.

When the dog finishes with the car up front, his handler brings him over to us.

I relax my hands around the steering wheel and fiddle around with the radio.

Dorothy suddenly seems to clam up. To snap her out of it, I pick an argument. We’ve been together for years so it should be no big deal for us to argue in public.

“When I get back, I’m going to go to the gym first,” I announce. “I’ll drop you off at your mother's and meet up with you later.”

It takes her a second to respond but then she does.