Page 10 of Queen of Ruin

My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and when I look at the caller my stomach tightens.

“Is everything okay with Mimi?” I ask, my pulse quickening.

“She’s having a good day today, and she was asking for you,” her nurse, Maria, explains immediately, making me feel better.

I used to speak to Mimi every Sunday morning and she’d tell me about her week, like what dessert she had with dinner, and what they watched for movie night. In the last year, she’s started to forget who I am. When she puts Mimi on the phone for me, I have to fight back the rush of emotions at hearing her voice.

“Evan, are you taking care of yourself?” she asks sweetly.

“Yes, Mimi.”

“You’re not overdoing it at the paper, are you? You work too hard.”

I hold the phone tight to my ear. “I’m not overdoing it.”

“When am I going to get to read something of yours in the paper?” she asks, her voice excited and proud.

I swallow hard before I say, “Hopefully soon. Journalism is very competitive.”

I hate lying to her, but most of the time she doesn’t remember what I told her, and if it makes her happy to think that I graduated and am now working at a paper, then I’ll play along. If she knew what I did to pay for her care she’d never forgive me. Not that she’d judge me harshly, but to know that I’d given up my dreams would destroy her.

“You tell them I said to run your articles,” she demands with all seriousness, “or I’ll come down there and give them a whack with my cane.”

She’s been confined to a wheelchair for the last couple of years and hasn’t used a cane since then, but I laugh anyway, picturing her poking someone in order to get them to print my fictional article.

“You can’t go around threatening people, Mimi.”

“Well, why not?”

I giggle. “Because it’s not polite.”

“Oh pfffft,” she says.

I always loved her feistiness.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I say with a shaky voice.

“Well, honey, I’ve been right here,” she says.

“I know.” I cover the phone speaker so she doesn’t hear me fighting to keep the tears at bay. It’s not just her, but this whole situation I’ve managed to get myself into.

“Oh, honey, Maria wants to talk to you before we hang up. Dirty Dancing is playing tonight and I don’t want to miss the Swayze.”

I blurt out, “I love you,” but she’s already handed the phone to Maria.

“She sounded good today.”

“She seems to be responding to the new medication Dr. Rakesh has her on, but it’s too soon to tell if it will be consistent. Um, Evangeline, Medicare isn’t going to be covering the medication anymore.”

“Why? If it seems to be helping, isn't that a good thing? You’d think Medicare would want to prevent having to cover costly treatments if she wasn’t on the medication,” I bark into the phone knowing it’s not Maria’s fault, but I have no one else to take my frustration out on.

Dealing with insurance companies and doctors over the years has left me with little patience.

“Honey, the one thing I’ve learned after all these years dealing with insurance companies is that they’ll do anything to avoid having to pay for something.”

It’s the same experience I’ve had trying to get Mimi’s treatments paid for with no results.

“How much is the prescription?” I have a sinking feeling that it’s not cheap.

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