Mom’s face brightened.
“That’s wonderful.”
“With conditions,” I added. “There’s a formal reprimand. I’ll be working under supervision and completing additional training.”
Dad nodded slowly.
“Can you accept that?”
I looked down at the document.
A few weeks earlier, I would have wanted him to tell me that the hospital was being unfair, that my intentions should count for more, that everyone else had misunderstood me.
Now I understood that I had wanted my intentions to erase my responsibility.
“Yes,” I said. “I can accept it.”
Mom reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
“And the money?”
“I refused it. The paperwork is complete.”
She looked sad for me, but she did not argue.
Dad leaned back in his chair.
“Then you’ll have to keep working.”
I almost smiled.
“At the shop?”
“Unless you’ve discovered another way to pay those loans.”
For the first time in weeks, I laughed.
