Jobless Wife Borrowed My Car; I Charged Per MileChapter 3

Saturday night, Cole posted a batch of photos in the family group chat.

He'd parked the car outside a restaurant with a mountain view and taken a group shot with his girlfriend's family beside it. To make it look impressive, he'd deliberately framed the front of the car in the shot.

My mom sent a string of smiley faces, saying her younger son had finally grown up.

Daphne didn't reply.

The next day around noon, when Cole brought the car back, there was a deep scratch on the right front rim.

He crouched down, glanced at it, and said carelessly, "Clipped it turning in the parking lot. Doesn't affect the driving. Come on, Al, we're brothers. You're not going to make me pay for it, right?"

It stung, sure, but he'd just met the girl's parents. I didn't want to ruin the mood.

"Forget it. Just be more careful next time."

Cole clapped me on the shoulder.

"I knew you wouldn't nickel-and-dime me like your wife does. Last time I accidentally scraped somebody's car, she made me cough up eighteen hundred. I ate instant noodles for half a month because of it."

That line landed right where it hurt.

Ever since that incident, I'd always felt Daphne was too hard on my brother.

When family runs into a little trouble, you front the money and move on, don't you? But she insisted on itemizing the transfers, writing down the repayment date, like she was guarding against a thief.

I was about to agree with him when my phone suddenly rang.

It was my mom.

She asked, "Al, where are you? The doctor's already three numbers ahead."

"Where am I for what?"

"The follow-up appointment today. Daphne messaged me yesterday, said all the paperwork was ready, told me to wait for you at the rehab center."

My mind went blank for a couple of seconds.

"Isn't it next Sunday?"

"Today is Sunday."

I checked the date on my phone and realized I'd lost track after taking a comp day for the weekend overtime.

"Just wait there. I'm coming right now."

I grabbed the keys and ran out.

Cole trailed after me and asked, "Al, I'm gonna take off, then?"

"You're coming with me. Help me push Mom's chair."

"I've got a movie with Yara this afternoon. I really can't make it."

And with that he ran off faster than anyone.

I drove to the rehab center, forty minutes late.

My mom was sitting alone in the hallway, her cane laid across her knees. When she saw me, she looked past me first.

"Where's Daphne?"

"She's at an interview."

"Then how could you not even remember the date?"

"She used to remind me a day ahead."

My mom was quiet for a moment, then folded the number slip in her hand twice.

"Daphne isn't your alarm clock."

The words left me embarrassed. I wheeled her over to the window to redo the paperwork.

The staff asked for the last imaging report and the rehab records. I dug through the whole folder and only found the payment receipts.

The people in line behind me started to grumble.

I had no choice but to call Daphne.

Two rings and she picked up.

"What is it?"

It was quiet on her end, an occasional rustle of paper. She was probably waiting for the second interview.

"Where's Mom's imaging report? It's not in the folder you gave me."

"The clear blue sleeve."

I went through it. Nothing.

"It's not here at all. Did you take it?"

She didn't argue, just said, "One second."

Half a minute later the digital version of the report came through, along with the lookup path on the hospital's app and the rehab therapist's number.

And at the end, a photo.

The paper report was in the inner pocket of the folder. I'd been in too much of a rush and hadn't pulled the second zipper open at all.

While I sat there embarrassed, she said, "Anything else?"

"No."

"Then I'm hanging up. My interview's about to start."

Without thinking, I asked, "How much was the ride today?"

There was a beat of silence on her end.

"A hundred and forty-six."

"That expensive? I should've just let you take the car."

"Your car costs more."

The line went dead.

My mom looked at me. "What costs more?"

I didn't answer.

But by the time the afternoon appointment was over, she found out anyway, from the family group chat, that I'd been charging Daphne by the mile.

Because Cole posted the scratched rim to the chat and said, half-joking:

【Al, going by your wife's car-rental rates, how much do I owe for this trip? Any chance of a family discount?】

Underneath, my mom asked:

【What car-rental rates?】

The chat stayed silent for a long time.