The Ocean Inside

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The Ocean Inside Page 14

by Janna McMahan


  “A mummy in a wheelchair.”

  “You won’t be in a wheelchair then.”

  Ainslie pulled her parched lips into a thin smile. The soft light of the clouds at day’s close pressed into her skin. Sloan let the conversation drop. They watched the ocean’s give and take with the shore. A bird perched on the railing and flitted away.

  “They know,” Ainslie said.

  “Who knows what?”

  “They know about Mexico.”

  Sloan nodded. “I figured as much. Am I in huge trouble?”

  Ainslie shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

  “I guess they’re too busy fighting about other stuff. Thanks for telling me.”

  They fell quiet again.

  A butterfly, a whisper of a being, lit on Ainslie’s hand. She didn’t flinch, only watched the small creature’s wings move gracefully together and apart. A second butterfly found her shoulder. To Sloan’s amazement seven butterflies arrived, their wiry legs clinging precariously to her sister, two on the gauze that hugged her head.

  Ainslie turned weary eyes on their fragile wings.

  “They missed me,” she said.

  CHAPTER 19

  New Normal

  Neat stacks of bills and invoices covered the dining room table. Part of the table held household expenses, the other half medical bills and statements, many with red slashes across the first page. Lauren and Emmett had sorted these into piles that had to be paid versus those that could be put off for another thirty or sixty days. Property taxes were due.

  There were other, much smaller piles made of investments, college funds, savings bonds, CDs, and insurance policies. There was about eighteen thousand dollars in Sloan’s college fund, a thousand in Ainslie’s. These assets were achingly meager next to the looming mounds of payables.

  The hospital bills totaled nearly three hundred thousand dollars, and they owed more than a hundred thousand dollars to surgeons, anesthesiologists, pathologists, physical therapists, and counselors. Still, they were unsure exactly what they owed since the same bills kept coming each month, sometimes with late fees or interest added. The hospital’s billing statements seemed particularly confusing, with innocuous descriptions like cough support device, thermal therapy, and cotton professional, descriptions Lauren suspected were merely cough drops, ice packs and cotton swabs. These things showed up numerous times on various bills, raising the question of erroneous multiple billings. How were they to tell if Ainslie had actually received the treatments and the medical supplies listed on the bills?

  Larry said not to be overwhelmed, that the bills they were receiving were pretty standard and he would help them get everything worked out. He said the hospital had been unusually willing to work with them, and while the relationship between a hospital and patient was based on trust, he had requested an itemized set of statements for his own files. He intended to hire a medical saving specialist who understood diagnosing and coding to reconcile the statements. This person would make sure everything was in order and, in the end, that everyone got paid.

  Another part of the table held the insurance policy quagmire—all of Larry’s letters on their behalf and Common Good’s replies. Of course, every procedure Ainslie had received, every medicine she had taken was not preapproved by the insurance company, so for every statement there was a letter of denial. All these lived next to their lengthy Common Good policy that hadn’t paid a claim in eight months, and the accompanying massive coverage catalog.

  “Let’s decide what we’re going to pay,” Emmett said. They’d stopped renovations like painting and repairs that were chronic with old houses. They had a plumbing issue that would have to wait. They didn’t have to worry about a mortgage, but they did have to keep the lights on and water pumping through their pipes. Cable could go, but Lauren argued against it as necessary for Ainslie. She’d said surely, in the bigger picture, cable wasn’t what was going to do them in.

  Lauren and Emmett both had calculators whirring. They flipped through paper, adding, subtracting. They didn’t talk, but kept at it, their heads down, fingers tapping keys and scribbling notes.

  Lauren sighed, pushed away from the table, and went to the kitchen. She returned with two of their best wine stems and a bottle of red with a gold label.

  “I thought we were saving that for a special occasion,” Emmett said.

  “I say no time like the present.” She waited for his response.

  “Break it open.”

  The bottle made a happy pop when uncorked, and Lauren filled their bulbous glasses a quarter full. She handed one to Emmett and eased herself back into a dining room chair.

  “So,” she said. “Are we bankrupt?”

  He took a sip and scanned the organized mess of their financial life. “It would appear quite possible in the next two months.”

  She nodded as if to say she expected as much.

  “It’s not just the big bills, but trips to Charleston and missed work. Stuff adds up. There’s no way to account for all the incidental expenses.”

  “How much longer does Larry say this can take?”

  “We’ve jumped through all the insurance company’s hoops. Our next step is to sue them. He’s drafting the papers.”

  “Lawsuits take forever. How much longer will the doctors and hospital wait to get paid?”

  “Larry said they’re used to this sort of thing. He said he’d talk to them for us. They won’t deny basic treatment. As long as we make payments of some sort on our bills they probably won’t refuse us outright, but of course that means nothing experimental or out of the norm. Basic services.”

  Lauren sighed. “No new hospitals or doctors will touch us right now, so Duke is out for the time being.”

  “She’s getting good care in Charleston.”

  “True. But what if they want to refer her?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  “What are we paying Larry?”

  “Right now, nothing. But if we get a settlement I’ll expect him to take part of it.”

  “And what if they just pay the bills they’re supposed to pay and there’s no extra. What do we owe Larry then?”

  “I have no idea. Expenses at a minimum.”

  “Well, thank God for Larry.”

  “He swears we’ll win, Lauren. He says it’s just a game of tenacity. That only people committed to the long haul manage to get their claims paid. It’s their ‘we have enough money to wait you out’ game.”

  “And yet you’re still paying premiums?”

  “The entire office is insured with those sons-of-bitches.”

  Lauren took a long drink of wine and held it in her mouth.

  “We’re screwed,” she finally said.

  Emmett swirled the dark red liquid in his glass as he perused his house. It was not that large a house really; there were lots of rooms but they were small, as was the case with most Victorians. The ceilings were high, the windows long and narrow. The woodwork and floors were honeyed, and slightly warped with age and dampness.

  “We’re sitting in our biggest asset,” he said.

  “So we sell the house?”

  “No. But what if we rent it? Beach houses of this size can rent for up to five thousand dollars per week. We could rent a smaller house inland for less than a thousand, I’m sure. If we could keep this house rented all summer, we could gross, maybe, I don’t know, forty thousand dollars.”

  “Would we hire a management firm?”

  “Have to. I wouldn’t know how to keep the place rented myself.”

  “So we subtract the rental on our new place, and the fee for the rental company. Would the management firm provide a cleaning service or would we clean the house?”

  “I guess we would clean it and save the money.”

  “What about repairs? You know there are a bunch of repairs we’d need to make before we could rent it.”

  “Maybe people will buy into the rustic charm.”

  “So
between now and high season we have to find a new place to live, move, find a rental management firm, make repairs, and then hope the house rents. Assuming we accomplish all of that, do we have to give Judd and Rick their two-thirds cut of the income?”

  “No. They wouldn’t expect it, considering our situation.”

  “Okay. I hate to always be Ms. Negative, but what about the creek dredging and the beach renourishment? When’s that all scheduled to begin? Doesn’t it keep getting delayed? What if we move and rent and then have to refund money because big machines are grinding away cordgrass in the creek or spewing wet sand all over the beach?”

  He contemplated this. “You’ve got a point. I’ll have to check with the city and see if they have a definite start date.”

  She sighed. “I don’t know, Emmett. It all seems pretty complicated.”

  It was true. How could they move their sick child to a less comfortable place and rearrange their lives all in hopes of netting thirty thousand dollars? It would help, but truly, that amount wouldn’t begin to touch their huge debt. He’d have to find a storage area for all their personal belongings and store them for the summer. They’d be packing and cleaning for weeks without the assurance that any of it would pay off. And how could he ask his exhausted wife to clean this house for strangers each week when she could barely keep it in order for their own family? It did seem like a huge gamble, but Lauren seemed to be seriously considering his proposal, or perhaps she was too tired to put up a fight.

  “So,” she finally said, “next problem. What about the Savannah School of the Arts?”

  “Sloan may have to delay college.”

  “Emmett, we can’t do that to her. Who knows what will happen to her in a year or two? Do you want her waiting tables or working in a bar and losing all that enthusiasm she has about going to school?”

  “We all have to make sacrifices.”

  “You know she’s drifting away from us. I don’t even want to think about how she paid for that Mexico trip.”

  “She’s pretty frugal. She probably had money saved.”

  “I don’t think for one minute she went with girlfriends. That Wannamaker boy paid for everything. I still think we should confront her.”

  “What good would it do? It’s already a done deal. She’s technically an adult. I’m not willing to get into a fight with her over it now. I say let it go.”

  “You would.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Go on. Say what you mean.”

  “You know what I mean. It’s the easy way out.”

  “You’re right. It’s not the best choice. It is the easy way out, but I say we take it. We’ve got too many other problems to worry about.”

  “We’ve always told her not to worry about college. We told her that all she had to do was get in and we’d pay for it. Now we’re reneging. Can’t we at least send in the money for her deposit? Things might change between now and the time school starts. I mean, surely to God the insurance will come through before then.”

  Emmett gestured over the table. “Where do you see a thousand dollars here? I don’t see any extra. I don’t even see gas money or food money here.”

  “She’s our child, too.”

  “I’ve talked to her about this. She’s looking into financial aid. She understands.”

  “Didn’t she need to apply for financial aid long before now?”

  “Surely she can still apply for January.”

  Lauren lowered her voice then. She didn’t sound accusatory when she said, “So that’s it then. She’s on her own.”

  He hated to broach the subject again, but there was another option that would put money in their pockets quickly. “You know, you could get a job.”

  Bitterness reanimated her tired face and Emmett realized he had said the wrong thing. He watched her formulating words, organizing her thoughts, weighing how she should respond. When she spoke she was angry, but also defeated.

  “Really? And what would I do? I didn’t even have a major when I dropped out of college. So should I go down to the market and get a job as a checkout girl? Well, maybe then we could get a discount on groceries. Oh, no wait, I know. I can…”

  “Stop it. Don’t demean yourself.” He stood and paced toward the bay window. Outside, white-crested wavelets dissolved into the mouth of the creek, slender reeds trembling at their gentle touch.

  On the verge of tears, her voice quivered. “I’ve never had a job. What do you suggest I say I’m qualified to do?”

  “You’re good at organizing things.” He came back to her. “You’re always on those nonprofit committees. I bet you could get on with one of the catering companies or wedding planners or nonprofits as a project coordinator.”

  She stopped her downward emotional spiral then. “You think I’d be good at that?” she asked weakly.

  “Sure, I mean look at how many things you juggle all the time. You’re always balancing a bunch of stuff. More now, but you know what I mean.”

  “Still, Emmett. I can’t do it. Not with Ainslie so sick. She needs me. Every day is different. Every day could be critical and I couldn’t be a reliable employee. Would you hire somebody with a child with cancer?”

  Emmett sighed. She had a point. She always seemed to have a valid point.

  “No. Probably not.”

  “Well.”

  “But she is getting better.”

  “That’s true. She is getting better.”

  “And she’s going to go back to school eventually.”

  “Right.”

  “So you’ll think about it.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Remember what all those books you’re always reading say. This is our new normal.”

  Lauren wandered into the living room and flopped down on the sofa. “There’s nothing else we can do tonight. Let’s watch a movie.” She clicked on the television and Animal Planet blipped to life.

  Emmett slowly settled beside his wife. Suddenly his joints ached and he felt old and weary. He found her hand and slid his fingers through hers. When was the last time they just sat and held hands? Probably not since the first year they were married. She stared at the television, but Emmett could tell she wasn’t seeing the screen. She lowered her head onto his shoulder and closed her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” Emmett said as he brushed her hair away from her eyes. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

  CHAPTER 20

  The Swing of Things

  The doctors suggested they all go out for pizza. “Get back into the swing of things,” was how he put it. Ainslie suspected he chose pizza because then she could use both hands and wouldn’t have to use a fork. Although her right hand strength had been getting better she was still only a few weeks out of surgery. They recommended another round of chemo, but she would have to get some meat on her bones before they would even consider it.

  Ainslie wore a ball cap with a star on the bill, but she was aware that the back of her head was bare. This was the second time she’d lost enough hair to feel a breeze on her scalp. Sloan came in, flopped down on Ainslie’s bed, and grabbed the controls for the video game.

  “You about ready to go?” she asked as she booted up Super Mario Brothers.

  “It’s not like I have to put on makeup or fix my hair,” Ainslie replied. “Are you going out with Cal tonight?”

  “After we eat. Grab a control. I’m gonna kick your butt.”

  “I don’t feel like playing. Don’t go out with him tonight. Stay here with me.”

  “Do you really want to make me feel bad about this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, it’s working. But I’m still going out with Cal. So now I’ll go but I won’t have a good time. Is that what you want?”

  “Yes.”

  “Shut up.”

  Their father called from downstairs. “Girls, let’s go!”

  Pizza King had good handicap access. Inside, a birthday party was
going on. The kids were about Ainslie’s age, but she didn’t know any of them. They seemed so happy with their stupid hats and colorful birthday cake. She had a friend who always had a birthday party this time of year, but she hadn’t received her invitation yet. She thought for sure she’d be invited. Every day Ainslie went through the stacks of cards she still received, but she hadn’t found the invite. Maybe she’d been forgotten since she hadn’t been to school in so long.

  They found a table in the corner perfect for the wheelchair. As they approached, the loud family at the next table stopped talking and began to eat in silence. At their table, a boy about four rested his unblinking eyes on Ainslie. He stared at her when they came in. He stared at her while she was ordering. He never stopped staring as his red-smeared, open mouth moved around and around a wad of dough.

  Ainslie put up with it for a while, but his shameless gawk finally made her say, “Dad, please, make that dumb little boy stop staring at me.”

  Emmett frowned at the situation. This type of behavior from other people was annoying. Her father always told her that while other people shouldn’t be rude, that he couldn’t exactly pick a fight.

  “I can come over there and sit between you two so he can’t see you,” he suggested.

  “Just make him stop.”

  “His parents should control his behavior,” Emmett said loud enough for them to hear, “but let’s just ignore it a while longer.”

  The adults at the other table stole guilty glances at one another.

  “I’m tired of it,” Ainslie said. She scrunched up her face and leaned toward the child in a menacing way. She stuck out her tongue and snarled like an angry dog. The boy’s eyes grew large and he reached for his mother. His lower lip puckered and he dissolved into tears. Ainslie watched his little face turn red as he imploded into a bawling mess. She glanced over at Sloan, who raised her eyebrows, paused in mock disgust, then burst into laughter. Their father opened his mouth to scold both girls, but there was a sudden change in his eyes as well. He started laughing. Their mother just stared at them all with a grin on her face.

 

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