"What do you mean it's out of network?" Diane exclaimed, throwing an arm up in frustration. Her voice echoed slightly in the small hospital waiting room, drawing a few glances from nearby patients and their families. She gripped her phone tighter, her arm beginning to hurt.
"I'm very sorry, ma'am," the woman on the other end of the line replied in a monotone voice, her words crisp but devoid of any real sympathy. "Unfortunately, her treatment is not covered as the dependent under your current insurance plan." The lady cleared her throat. "However, we can upgrade you for the low price of eighty-nine dollars per month. Although, under the ClearCare Blue Terms of Service, the upgraded package would not cover your daughter's fainting as this would be pre-existing."
Diane clenched her jaw, inhaling sharply. "Look, I need to know what's wrong with my daughter, and you're telling me we have to pay out of pocket for basic care? What is the point of having insurance if y'all --"
"-- I understand this must be frustrating, especially at such a difficult time," the woman continued, her voice flat, clearly reading from a script. "In the meantime, we recommend ensuring she stays hydrated, maintains a regular eating schedule, and avoids excessive stress."
Diane shut her eyes, gripping the bridge of her nose. This is ridiculous!
"There is also the option to schedule an out-of-network consultation with one of our specialists," the woman added, unphased. "The fee for a thirty-minute consultation would be eight hundred and fifty dollars."
Diane nearly dropped the phone. "eight hundred and ---?!"
"From Eight hundred and fifty dollars. Yes, ma'am. We pride ourselves on giving our patients all the options when making health choices personal to them," the woman said, her tone unwavering, as if she had recited the phrase a hundred times that day alone.
Diane let out a bitter laugh. "Eight hundred and fifty dollars..." She exhaled sharply, trying to steady herself. "Ma'am. Thank you ever so much for your time. You're doing the Lord's work. I'm sure you'll be making a lot of folks real happy today."
"Happy to be of service, Ma'am," the lady responded, "and if you have time for a five-minute survey to--"
Diane hung up the phone.
She took a deep breath, her thumb hovering over the call button. Lord, this was a bad idea. But bad ideas had their place, and right now, she didn't see another way.
She had another phone call to make.
Without giving herself space to second guess, she tapped the button, bringing the phone to her ear. It rang. And rang... and rang. She knew he wouldn't answer. They hadn't spoken in years, not really. Maybe a stray email when he needed something—never a conversation.
And then—
"Hello?"
Her heart skipped a little with anxiety. She wet her lips. "Eric?"
A pause. Then, clipped and measured as ever—"This is he."
Diane swallowed. Of course he wouldn't have her number. "It's Diane." She rushed ahead before he could say anything. "Umm... something's happened to Kayla. She's awake now, it's fine, but she passed out and sprained her wrist and—" She caught herself rambling and exhaled hard, feeling humiliated. "Look, my cover for dependents takes care of the sprain, but they won't authorize any tests to check why she fainted."
Silence. For a beat too long.
Then, sharp as a whip—"Bloody hell, Diane! What did you do? You better be feeding her right."
Diane stiffened. "Oh, don't start with that. Of course she's eating. We just went to Olive Garden last week." She folded her arms. "And she cooks for herself."
She could hear the sigh through the receiver, long and slow, the kind he used to give when he thought she was missing the bigger picture.
"This is the worst timing," he muttered. A beat. Then, quieter, "We're, well, I'm in Singapore, if Kayla didn't say."
Diane closed her eyes. Of course he was.
Eric sighed, long and weary. "Oh well, guess I'm going to have to fix things. As always."
Diane's grip tightened around the phone. As always? Oh, she remembered his as always.
The way he used to look at her—like she was some little girl who didn't know the first thing about taking care of herself. The way his eyes would flick up to the ceiling every time she opened her mouth, like he was just so exhausted by the burden of listening to her. Those deep, suffering sighs. Those mutters. The Why do you always create messes for me to clean up?
Back then, she'd just taken it. Smiled through it, told herself she was lucky. That he was the smart one, the capable one, and she ought to be grateful he was steering the ship. He was the man of the house, the man of the hour. She let herself grow small. She let herself depend on this man who never thought she was worth the effort.
How humiliating.
But not anymore.
Diane took a steadying breath, gripping the phone just a little tighter. "You know what, Eric? Don't worry about it. I'll handle it. I shouldn't have called—I just thought you ought to know."
Eric let out that familiar sigh, the one that used to make her feel about two inches tall. "She's my kid."
Something in her snapped right then, but she didn't raise her voice. She didn't need to. "And she's my daughter too, Eric. She's not a kid either, but she needs her Mom. So I won't keep her waiting."
There was a pause, just long enough to let her know he was about to argue. But she wasn't having it.
"You enjoy your time in Singapore now," she said, her voice like glass. And then she hung up.
Diane pressed the phone to her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut as she took a few shaky breaths. That was awful. Her hands were trembling, her chest tight, but she forced it all down. Now wasn't the time.
She felt the sting behind her eyes, but she swallowed hard and blinked the tears away. No.
With one last deep breath, she straightened her spine, put her phone in her purse, and turned toward the door. Time to be strong.