Chapter 5
Max
The limo bounced over the potholes in the street that hadn't been fixed in ages. It was a shame that privatized corporations had entire small villages and neighborhoods within the city had better road care than our public roads but that was the state of things. Kind of like how Ava could have applied for and obtained medical help if she made only slightly less money, but she fell into a bracket where she couldn't afford to have it herself, and didn't qualify for aid. Which left her uninsured and dying.
"You're an idiot," my father said, grumbling about Ava even long after I'd put the conversation to bed. When Foreman, my CEO and friend, let it slip during our meeting earlier, Dad latched onto the topic and pressed every button I had.
"You're an ass," I told him, staring out the window. We had a relationship like this, but such was his personality anyway. Cold and stern men need to be dealt with in harsh ways or you lost yourself with them. I might have been kind at heart and a philanthropist as a matter of principle, but I knew how to stand my ground when needed.
"Maxwell, you're wasting your time. You might think this is a good idea, but all you're doing is encouraging her and other women like her to keep leaching off of you." He had one leg crossed over the other, his suit coat unbuttoned and fanned out against his hips, and his hands crossed on his lap. He called it his power pose; I called it the way old men sat when they were trying to look important.
I tapped the armrest with my finger and waited. His driver was carrying me to the hospital to visit Ava, and he wasn't pleased with the pitstop. He preferred if I'd just forget about helping her and focus on the projects I had stewing for work. After three years of helping rebuild this city to something great again, he finally saw the benefit of my gentrification efforts. I knew with time, he'd see what an amazing woman Ava was and how she had so much to offer this world.
"She isn't a gold digger, Dad. She didn't ask me for help, and she even refused to accept my money." My chest was always tight when I was in the same room with him. It was a defense mechanism, learned over the years based on his stern and often severe reactions to my words or choices. But at thirty-four I was a grown man and my money was mine. They got me started, and yes, I had a trust fund ready to be released to me upon his death, but my parents had no part in my personal net worth now. I was my own man, and I could do as I pleased, and sometimes it pleased me to piss them off.
"There you go. She refused your help which means she doesn't want it." He scoffed and shook his head. "Even the dogs don't want the crumbs from the king's table, boy. Wise up. Your reputation is important and clearly she--"
"Enough," I snapped, cutting him off. "Ava will accept my help. She just wants to do it her way. I have a plan to make sure both of those things can happen, and I don't care to hear your opinion about it." Dad and Mom hated that I even visited the shops in the strip where Perk Up did business. Their stubborn egos told them it was beneath me to stoop to the level of "poor people" who "couldn't even fix up their own neighborhoods." I doubted they even wanted to know what it felt like to be in a lower middle-class area.
Both of my grandparents were wealthy beyond belief--oil and energy--so both of my parents were born lacking nothing. I was too, but I saw the disparity between the way I lived, and the way some other children were raised when I was much younger. It made me want to share everything I had to see them smile. I'd give away my toys or electronics, and a few times I gave away my shoes or clothes.
I still lived that way now, though I did have some expensive tastes too. Ava was one of them. Some men would buy a sports car and try to get a girl by driving around revving the engine. Others might lavish her in gifts or expensive trips to woo her. I just wanted her to live, and I knew she was too prideful to accept any material gifts anyway. If paying for her surgery didn't show her I was interested and wanted to care for her, I'd find a different way.
"I'll call you," I told Dad when the limo stopped, and I climbed out without the help of his driver. It was my silent rebellion to his lifestyle and opinions, though he knew damn well I hated both.
When the barista told me to visit Ava again, that now she was allowing visitors, I didn't hesitate, though I had that meeting to attend first. My compulsion to fix things for her wouldn't let me rest. I'd done my research day and night, hired my own legal team out of my own pocket to research for me, and I had barely slept. If there was a way, I would find it, and if Ava agreed to this insane plan I came up with, it just might work.
I knocked on her door gently before walking in. When I did, I was shocked to see her standing and wearing her normal clothing instead of a hospital gown. She looked fresh too, like someone had done her makeup and helped her shower. The look of recognition on her face was different than the look of surprise I thought I'd see.
"Hi," she said softly as she tucked some articles of clothing into her bag.
"Hi," I said, confused. "You're getting released?" I asked, and she shrugged a shoulder.
"They need the bed, and I have no insurance." Her timid statement wrenched my heart.
I hated places like this, machines that chewed people up and spat them out. It didn't matter that she was suffering, the bed for someone who could pay was more important than her life. Certainly there were amazing doctors and nurses who deeply cared, but they couldn't stand up to Goliath either.
"Let me help," I told her, nudging her aside. I forced her to sit in what should have been my chair as I tucked the rest of the things she had piled on the bed into the small worn backpack. I couldn't believe with her prognosis that they were discharging her. She needed nurses to check on her and monitor her vitals. "I'll hire a team, Ava," I said, but I knew her response before I said it.
"You don't have to, Max. I'm ready to die."
Her words physically hurt my chest. She was so young and full of life still, so much to do before she died, and she had resigned herself to letting this disease win. I zipped up the bag but left it lying on the bed then turned and crouched in front of her.
"I know you're stubborn," I told her, taking her hands. "But I can't let you die alone. I am going to hire a nurse to live in your apartment with you and care for you..." I pressed my lips together. My plan would sound ridiculous to her, shocking even, but it would work if she would let me do it.
