Page 62 of Sin Wagon
We leave the restaurant and Wells holds open the car door for me; I giggle at his chivalry. He slides in behind the wheel and pulls away from the curb.
“Can we stop at the Walgreens, close to the house? I had my prenatals called in there,” I ask, not wanting to forget them since I don’t have any left.
“Of course. Do you want me to run in for them so you can stay in the car?”
“No. I have to go in because I’m new and they need to see my insurance and all that,” I tell him, wishing I could take him upon his offer. The thought of staying in the car, avoiding the whole ordeal, is so tempting.
“What insurance do you have?” he asks, looking at me briefly before his eyes go back to the road.
“Blue Shield. I got it through the Marketplace.” The process was a nightmare, but at least I have something. I still feel a pang of anxiety every time I think about the whole ordeal of attaining it.
“What are you going to do about the baby?”
“Umm, I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “The lady I spoke to about Marketplace said the baby can’t be on the Blue Shield, so I have to look around or do state assistance.”
The thought of more paperwork, more phone calls, more waiting on hold—it’s exhausting just thinking about it.
“If you’re open to it, I can add Little Boba to my coverage?” His offer is like a lifeline.
“That’s fine.” I blow out a breath, relieved that he’s taking this task off my plate. Insurance is like speaking alien to me, so I’m glad I don’t have to deal with it.
“You can tell me how much it is and we can split it,” I add, not wanting to seem ungrateful, but also feeling the need to share the financial burden I know insurance is.
“No need. The company covers it one hundred percent, so we are good.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, Little Doe, I’m sure.” The nickname sends warmth spreading through my chest and I smile. In this moment, I feel seen, supported.
We pull into the Walgreens parking lot, the big red sign glowing in the night air. Pushing the door open, I slowly climb out of the car.
“Be right back.”
I head into the store and make my way straight to the pharmacy. The fluorescent lights are harsh, making me squint. I’m determined to be in and out so I can change into my comfy clothes and lie down. The idea of sinking into my bed sounds like heaven right now.
Luckily, there’s no line. I step right up to the window, give them my name and insurance card, and within minutes, I have my vitamins.
As I head out of the store, I’m passing the cosmetics section when I’m stopped by none other than my mother. Of all the people I could run into, why her?
Fuck me.
“Hello, Delilah. You’ve been ignoring me.” She smiles, and the sight gives me chills. It’s that cold, calculated smile that always makes me feel small.
I want to scream, to ask her why she’s doing this—to Jonas, to me. I just found out about him and now she’s trying to take him away. Why does she always have to make her presence known by wielding her manipulative claws and trying to tear everything apart? I want to shake her and make her understand the mess she’s caused, the pain she’s inflicted. But I know that won’t get me anywhere.
“I have.” I don’t see the point of lying. She’d see right through it, anyway.
“What are you doing in Chicago?” She crosses her arms, looking at me expectantly. Her tone is sharp, judgmental. Typical Claudia. She always knew how to make a simple question feel like an interrogation.
“You’ll find out sooner or later, so might as well get this out of the way. I moved here.”
“When?” she shrieks.
“Christ, Claudia, keep it down. I’ve only been here a couple of days.” I look around, hoping no one is paying too much attentionto our escalating exchange. The last thing I need is a scene in the middle of the store.
“Why?” Her face reddens, and I can almost see the steam coming from her ears. It’s almost satisfying to see her so riled up.
“Because Rhonda asked me to. Because Derek got a job here and wanted me to come with him. Because I fucking can. Because I want to annoy you. Take your pick.” My voice is steady, but inside, I’m trembling. I don’t owe her an explanation, yet here I am, giving her one.
