Chapter 8 - WHAT HAPPENED TO HAWAII
Kayla canceled the Hawaii trip.
I did not demand it.
The resort deposit was partially refundable.
The airline tickets could be converted to credits.
She returned the luggage.
She also transferred back the money she could reasonably cover from her savings.
Not all of it.
Enough to show effort.
Mom was furious with her.
“You shouldn’t have to give up your birthday because Natalie is angry.”
Kayla finally defended me.
According to Aunt Susan, she said:
“It was Natalie’s birthday.”
That sentence apparently ended the argument.
A month later, Kayla asked me to lunch.
She paid.
I noticed.
“You don’t have to prove anything.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you smiling like that?”
“Because I checked my bank account before inviting you.”
I laughed.
That was progress.
She told me she had started looking at her own finances for the first time in years.
Mom and Dad had helped her so often that she never built a proper emergency fund.
She had credit-card debt.
A car payment that was too high.
Very little saved.
“Mom kept saying you’d always be there if something serious happened.”
I looked at her.
“She said that?”
“Yes.”
“And what did you think?”
“That it was comforting.”
“And now?”
“That it was unfair.”
Kayla began changing things.
Sold the car.
Bought something cheaper.
Built savings.
She did not become a financial saint.
She still ordered ridiculous cocktails.
She was still Kayla.
But she stopped confusing being loved with being financed.
We became closer because, for the first time, she started asking about my life instead of only calling when something had gone wrong in hers.
One afternoon she asked:
“Are you seeing somebody?”
I stared at her.
“How did you know?”
“You smiled at your phone.”
Apparently I was less mysterious than I thought.
His name was Andrew.
I had not told my family partly because I knew every new detail about my life eventually became family discussion.
Kayla grinned.
“Does Mom know?”
“No.”
May you like
“Excellent.”
It was the first secret we shared that did not involve money.
