She turned the ring on her finger.
“Danny’s had six surgeries since the accident,” she said. “Skin grafts. On his face and his neck and his arm. The burns were third degree. The doctors did an amazing job. But there’s one more surgery. The last one. On his neck. The scar tissue is pulling. It’s starting to limit how he can turn his head.”
Danny looked down at the table.
“Insurance denied it,” Vanessa said. “They said it’s cosmetic. It’s not cosmetic. If he doesn’t have it, it’ll get worse. He won’t be able to turn his head all the way. The doctor wrote letters. We appealed. They denied it again.”
“How much?” I asked quietly.
“Thirty-eight thousand dollars.”
I didn’t say anything.
“I’m a dental hygienist,” Vanessa said. “I’m a single mom. Danny’s dad left when he was two. I’ve already taken out a second mortgage. I’ve already maxed out every credit card I have. I’ve done GoFundMe twice.” She looked at the ring. “This was the last thing I had. My grandmother left it to me. It’s appraised at forty-two thousand.”
