“Thanks for trying.”

The look on my face is pretty telling, because he pats my shoulder with a hand that is improbably large for a man who fingers violin strings for a living.

“You weren’t playing hooky, were you?”

“I was thinking about it. Then you came along and I gave in to temptation. I just wish I could help you further, but I can’t. I have to go back pretty soon. This is as far as I can take you. I’m really sorry.”

“I can’t thank you enough.” I thrust a couple of dollars at the cashier, blocking Mitch’s attempt to pay for his coffee.

Mitch propels himself back outside, sitting sidesaddle on the Harley while I hunt down a phone book to find a nearby car-rental agent.

I know that this is going to prove an exercise in futility. I have maybe a couple hundred bucks available on my credit card, probably not enough to rent a car to take out of state. I’m not one of those spendthrift people. I haven’t run my credit card up on the temptation of using it for day-to-day living. I don’t own a flat-screen TV. I don’t even own a decent pair of shoes. No one had to teach me that using credit cards willy-nilly was bad. I didn’t go to college, so I wasn’t one of those kids who got handed a card at freshman orientation, then jacked it up, confident that Mom and Dad would cover the bill. I have lived by a pay-as-you-go policy all my life. Until Mack got sick.

It doesn’t take much to run up a vet bill. A simple well-care visit can set me back half a paycheck. But when Mack needed emergency surgery for an intestinal blockage, I never hesitated. The credit card was always for emergencies, and this one was a big one. I’ve been paying it down for a long time, but the balance remains stubbornly high. It was scary enough to have a $2,500-plus balance on a $2,500-limit card. It didn’t help that my day job at the health center ended when they lost funding and I was left to living on my job at the tavern. I’ve only been able to chip away at a little of that bill, a fact that sits on my shoulders like a ten-ton dollar sign. It colors every decision I make, even the one that has cost me my dog. I should have said no. I should have said I couldn’t afford to fly, I couldn’t get there. I should never have taken Artie up on his offer of a cheap ride to Boston.

I don’t regret the expense of that surgery. Mack is more than a dog to me. He’s my partner. We dance.

* * *