“Elizabeth…” He turned left out of the lot and headed home. “You were incredible in there. But based on what you said, I have a few questions.”
He kept his eyes on the road, but he could hear her let out a slow breath. “I bet you do.”
Might as well cut right to the heart of the matter. “When did you lose your insurance coverage?” He snuck a quick glance her way, but it was long enough to see her drop her chin to her chest. “And how?”
Dammit, he didn’t want to hurt or embarrass her. But he needed to know the story, so they could work out a happy ending together one way or another.
She deflated against the seat, and her words emerged one by one, slowly, as if she were forcing them from her mouth. “You know I work two jobs now.”
Yup. Since she’d sold her bakery a couple years ago, which he still didn’t understand. Every time he’d visited, customers had been lined up at the counter and poised to order boxes and boxes of doughnuts and pastries and cookies from her fleet of clerks, and she and her assistant had been working in the back, laughing and swaying to terrible, synth-heavy music from the eighties.
But since she’d said she was happy about the sale, he hadn’t inquired further.
Tonight, he was going to find out what had happened. Because it was rapidly becoming clear she’d been a much better friend to him than he’d ever been to her, and that was going to stop right this fucking second, even if it made them both uncomfortable.
He told her the sum total of what he knew. “Last I heard, you worked part-time at the art supply store on Tidewater Avenue and a few hours a week for that custom art company.”
“Yeah.” Her voice was quiet. “Artify Yourself! I’m a customer service rep for them, and they let me work from home.”
“Let me guess. Neither job offers health insurance for part-time workers.” When she nodded, he decided to wade into deeper, choppier water. “And you couldn’t afford to pay for your own insurance?”
At that, she sat up straight, her chin tilted high. “Actually, I could. I did, thanks to the ACA.”
“Then what happened?”
“Mom…” Abruptly, she turned to look out the window. “I tried to keep her home as long as possible, but those last few months, she was in and out of the hospital so many times. And since I was the only kid left in Marysburg, I was the one to be there with her. I went anytime I wasn’t working. Sometimes I slept in a chair by her bed for days on end.”
Her mom had struggled with dementia for years by that point, and Elizabeth had seemed to handle the situation with her customary ease. She’d moved her mother into her home, set up the sunny basement suite as a virtual nursing facility, and hired nurses to care for her mom during work hours and when she needed to run errands or take a break.
Thinking about it now, that must have been fucking expensive. But somehow, his friend had still managed to smile whenever she saw him, to chat about his work and his pitiful attempts to jog and the movies they’d streamed recently.
Late last autumn, though, she’d essentially disappeared from his life for a few months, only to reemerge after her mother’s funeral in January. She hadn’t told him the reason for her absence, and he hadn’t thought to ask. Fuck, why hadn’t he thought to ask?
“Oh, God.” In a rush, Elizabeth turned to him, her face frantic with apology and wet with tears. “I’m not complaining, James. I swear I’m not. She deserved all the time and love I could give her.”
Jesus, she broke his heart. “I know you’re not complaining.”
He reached out his right hand and clasped hers again. It felt right, and she didn’t move away. Instead, she gripped him tight. Tighter, as she continued her explanation.
“Late last year, I chose a new, cheaper plan through the ACA and set up autopay. Or at least I thought I did.” Defeat and grief freighted her voice, turning it heavy and slow. “When Mom got pneumonia, things became disorganized at home, and I never confirmed anything. I just assumed the payments for this year were going through, but they weren’t. And I wasn’t opening my mail or checking my e-mail very often, so I didn’t notice until it was too late.”
Even during college, she’d been the responsible roommate. The one who’d ensured their landlord got his check on time. The one who’d researched the least cruel ways to evict the mice in their little pantry. The one who’d forced him and Viv to drink water when they partied and drank too much.
And she’d failed to notice her health insurance hadn’t gone into effect?
Even before the mammogram, she’d obviously reached the limits of her endurance.
And he’d been nowhere to be found. Other than when they’d met for dinner and he’d accepted her offerings of food.
He was dirt.
So was her insurance company. “They kicked you off your plan?”
“Yes. And I’m not allowed to get a new one until the end of the year, during open enrollment.” She gave a shaky laugh. “I was just hoping to ride out the year without any major health issues. But here we are.”
“So you found the”—he swallowed hard—“lump and got a free mammogram. You must have been terrified.”
Another too-loud laugh. “An understatement.”
