The following week passed in a blur of routine and contemplation.
The bill sat on the kitchen table, a constant reminder of the decision I needed to make.
Each day, I found myself lingering there, staring at it, as if it might somehow offer answers.
But it remained silent, just like the phone, just like my son.
On Friday evening, I finally summoned the courage to make the call.
The caterer answered after a few rings, her voice cheerful and professional.
I explained the situation, my words careful and measured.
There was a pause on the other end, a moment of hesitation.
Then she spoke, offering a solution that took me by surprise.
She suggested a payment plan, a way to manage the cost without overwhelming me.
