apart?
25
Clara
“We’re done here,” Dr. Harper said, scrawling his name across a sheet of paper and handing it to me. “Your grandmother was a lucky lady, but she does need to eat and take her medications as prescribed. If you need help—”
“I don’t,” I said and then shook my head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. We have homecare nurses coming in, and I promise we’ll make sure my grandmother is taken care of. Thank you for saving her life.”
He smiled. “I wouldn’t go that far, but even without dealing with degenerative arthritis, age alone makes her more fragile. She’s very lucky she didn’t break a hip, and I’d certainly rather not see her passing out again.”
“Me either,” I agreed quickly, grateful that hadn’t happened.
He nodded and shook my hand before walking away. I turned to go back to the room but found a woman standing in my path. “May I help you?”
The woman glanced down at the clipboard she was holding. “Miss Simian?”
Before I could correct her pronunciation of my name, she said, “I’m afraid we can’t let you leave until you’ve completed the insurance portion of the intake form.”
Ahh, that pinched expression on her face should have told me this woman was from the billing department.
“Wow, you really hold patients hostage?” I said and then realized this woman wasn’t the type to find humor in my rather feeble joke. “I’m sorry, I’m a little stressed.”
She gave a curt nod, clicked her pen, and pressed the tip against the paper clipped to her board. “Name of insurance and policy number?”
I couldn’t help but wonder if the woman had ever heard of empathy. As warm and concerned as Dr. Harper had been, this woman… Anne Wilkenson according to her nametag, was as cold as the iceberg that sank the Titanic.
“I don’t have the information memorized. The card is in my billfold.” I reached for a purse that was not hanging off my shoulder because it was sitting in a booth at Johnny Red’s. “Um… I’m afraid in all the chaos of my grandmother’s collapse… I don’t have my purse.”
“I can wait while you run and get it,” she said primly.
A hospital was a true godsend when one feared a loved one was about to die. Everyone was professional and working their asses off, their only concern being to save a life. But, behind the scenes, a different world existed. One of calculators and columns on spreadsheets. One that didn’t see the people within its walls as patients, but as dollar signs. So much for Dr. Harper’s you’re free to go.
Sighing, I shook my head. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t this woman’s fault I’d run out without grabbing my purse. “Ms. Wilkenson, I’m afraid that’s impossible. In all the chaos of my grandmother’s episode, I totally forgot about my purse. I left it at the restaurant.”
“Of course you did,” she said, clearly not believing me.
Gritting my teeth, I reminded myself it really didn’t matter what she believed. “I assure you I’m not attempting to skip out on the bill—”
“I never said you were, but the very fact that you mentioned it has me wondering, Ms. Simian—”
“It’s Simyoneva,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’ll get the card as soon as the restaurant opens and finish filling in your form.” Reaching for the clipboard, I lifted the little silver bar holding the pages in place only to have the clipboard snatched away.
“Those forms are confidential,” she said sharply, detaching a few of the papers after making a final mark on the top sheet before holding them out.
I took them, about to apologize for losing my temper when I saw she’d circled a number at the bottom of the page. No way that amount could be correct. Right? Looking up, I saw she was already walking down the hall, no doubt seeking out her next victim to sink her blood-sucking fangs into.
I folded the papers in half. I’d just paid off one card… I should have known that little victory would be snatched from me as fast as she’d ripped the clipboard out of my hands.
Remembering the reason for my being here, I mentally shook myself. I didn’t care if I were in debt up to my eyeballs. I’d do whatever it took to make sure my babushka had the best care available.
Pasting a smile on my face, I returned to my grandmother’s room.
Both occupants were sleeping. My babushka in the bed, Alek in the chair beside her, his head thrown back, his feet braced