"Look, I know you don't cover pre-existing conditions, but this isn't pre-existing. It's –" I state into the phone only to be interrupted by the woman on the other end. She drones on about the insurance policies surrounding Prim's anti-retroviral medications and how Prim's health care coverage is limited to recent illnesses.
No matter how many times I tell her it is recent, the woman keeps reverting back to the time of transmission.
I'm not getting anywhere.
"She's sick – what don't you heartless fuckers understand!?" I shout, my burst of anger finally breaking through. I click the end button on my phone before tossing it across the room and watching it hit the floor with a thump.
Ever since her diagnosis, Prim's insurance has been giving her the run around. Her regimen treatments cost a over fifteen hundred dollars a month and if we don't get it settled soon Prim won't have any school money left from Dad even if I can convince her to go back. The idea kills me inside. And honestly makes me want to murder someone.
I'm only glad she isn't around to see me crack. Thankfully, Prim is out at her first afternoon session at the centre where she is meeting with some of the other women to learn about things that she can possibly expect. She invited me to come but after my last interaction with the too-good-looking Peeta receptionist, I decided to make my attendance there minimal. There is no way I am going to let something like that interfere with Prim's happiness.
Just as I'm pulling lasagna out from the stove for dinner I'm greeted by Prim's shout from the doorway. I can tell immediately that she's in a good mood by the way she instantly begins to ramble on non-stop about her time at the centre. Walking back into the kitchen I feel the smile pulling at my lips as I watch her take down plates and begin to set the table. She does so without prompting for the first time in months and I know it, I can see, the way the session has provided her with a missing piece that the virus had taken from her.
All throughout dinner, despite the money matters on my mind, I hear about all the different ways she has to be careful with her body now and all of the things she can do without getting anyone sick. The relief in her voice is palpable as she details how physical contact ranges in risk level and how she's able to do a lot more than she initially thought.
"I didn't realize before how wrong I was with what I thought I knew. Did you know that I can even have sex, Katniss?" She whispers excitedly while calmly scooping more salad onto her plate. I nearly choke on my mouthful of food as I twist around towards her.
"Prim," I start, instantly cutting myself off because I'm really not sure what I should say to that. Of course my little sister has sex. Of course that's important to her. I just – I have to stop myself from even thinking about it because I know if I do I will inevitably wind up saying something terrible and close-minded. When I finally break from my thoughts and look back to her, she's smiling sadly at me, nodding slightly.
"I think it was really good for me, Katniss." Her voice is small when she says it, her hand reaching out for mine. "I learned things that my pre-med classes didn't tell me about. Like how the treatment has changed and how medicines and viral loads can be controlled and I can live a normal life. I've spent so much time thinking things were still like they were in the eighties – I was so consumed with that that I didn't even think about anything else. These women, Katniss, they told me so much about their own experiences, about how some people just didn't think and were afraid of them because they didn't understand how everything works. It made... It made me really glad I have you here and I just, I love you, Katniss." We sit there quietly for a moment, holding hands and watching our plates with unnecessary interest. "They told me to get a dog, too," she mutters after a moment, resuming her excited tone.
We spend the rest of dinner arguing happily about getting a dog, me adamantly saying no while trying not to let her convince me with her excitable charm – the same charm that was hiding under the misconceptions that she feared about her status. Seeing the hope coming back to her is like watching the light come back into her eyes and for the first time in a long time I am able to breathe easy.
I've never been more thankful for Posi+ive than I am after dinner.
"I've got some errands to run this morning," Prim calls from the bedroom. I'm in the hallway, braiding my hair back from my face as she gets ready to go. I'm waiting for her to leave before I head out on my own to the centre to find out more about financial assistance. Though I've found a job here doing temp work, it won't be nearly enough money to pay for Prim's drugs and she's not stable enough on her meds yet to return to work.
Just two days ago she couldn't leave the bathroom because of the vomiting and diarrhea. I'd called Cinna's office, panicked as to what to do. They'd simply told me to watch and let them know if things got worse.
"Alright, you'll call me if you need anything, right? A ride? Anything?" I shout in return and move into the kitchen to grab a granola bar. Prim bounces out from the bedroom looking lively and nods.
"I'll call you, or I've got Gale's number if you don't pick up," she responds and I can't help the way my lips tighten into a line at her mention of Gale.
Gale Hawthorne and I used to be thick as thieves but when I found out a few weeks ago that he didn't tell me about my sister's condition when he picked her up from the clinic in January, I nearly tracked him down and broke his teeth. He'd betrayed me and the wound was still fresh.
"Katniss – don't hate him. I asked him not to tell you," Prim moans seeing the look on my face. I nod my head, silently promising that I'll work on getting over it even though I know I won't. "Fine. I'll be home by four."
And with that, she's disappeared out the door and is one step closer to independence. I breathe a sigh of relief and give myself ten minutes before heading down into the parking garage from our apartment and climbing into my car. The drive to the centre is uneventful with typical frustrating traffic in the morning rush. Stepping through the door, I'm surprised to see a woman at the desk instead of Peeta who I was honestly expecting.
The woman is achingly thin, her hair cropped close to her head and subtle muscles lining her lithe frame. When she meets my eyes over the edge of the desk it's more of a scowl than a smile.
"Can I help you or can I get back to my game of Tetris?" The woman sneers and clicks her mouse a few times. If I weren't already exhausted by assholes I'd have had a good comeback.
"Where's Peeta?" I ask wearily, more apt to discuss my options with him than with this snarling woman.
"He doesn't work here in the mornings – gotta pay the bills by teaching munchkins how to paint instead. What do you need?" Pulling out a pad of paper, the woman grabs a pen and looks at me expectantly.
"Oh, okay. Um. I need to talk to someone about paying for the antiretroviral drugs." I state carefully, referencing Prim's drugs.
"ARVs, huh? Well that's a tricky beast," the woman states and picks up the phone. "Haymitch – gotta customer out here for ya."
"Johanna, you know I don't take people before 11am-" Haymitch growls stepping into the hallway before seeing me standing in the lobby. I'm taken aback by his messy appearance and his dishevelled hair.
"Look, I don't make the rules old man. She wants to talk about ARV funding. Don't worry – his bark is worse than his bite." Johanna adds and then turns back to her computer. I stand there for a moment, staring down the surly man before he motions for me to follow him into his office.
"Haymitch Abernathy – counsellor. HAART right? " He asks before sitting down heavily in his chair. I stand awkwardly in the doorway for a moment before he pauses from turning on his computer to look at me. "Well, are you going to sit down so we can talk this through or what?"
"Uh, yeah. Okay." I stutter and fall into a seat on the other side of his desk. Pulling out a folder of paper, I review Cinna's notes on Prim's 'highly active antiretroviral therapy' that he told me to just call 'HAART'. Sighing audibly, I try to refresh my memory on the abbreviations and how the pills she's taking now are three treatments rolled into one to make her HAART simpler.
"For you or someone else?" He asks again, breaking into my thoughts and looking at me blankly.
"For someone else. My sister, Primrose. Her insurance says it's pre-existing because they think she was infected before her coverage started with school." The life slowly seems to come back to me as I recount all of the ways the insurance has tried to wiggle its way out from under the costs.
"Yeah those fuckers don't want to pay for anything with this disease," Haymitch adds and taps a few things onto his keyboard. "Alright – let's start with the basics. Age, length since diagnosis, current status, and we'll go from there."
The meeting overall is not positive. Though we find a few solutions, the main problem of funding is only addressed by getting Prim on waiting lists for a variety of programs. Because of her new status and the fact that she hasn't yet been diagnosed with AIDS, she doesn't qualify for Medicaid and some other state programs. Haymitch tries to sympathize but when he starts to bring up loan discussions, drug trials and other financial debt options, I begin to shut down. There's no way a bank is going to give us a loan – we've got no collateral, no co-signers, nothing.
"We're fucked," I grumble tiredly and press my fingers to my eyes. I can hear Haymitch lean back in his squeaky chair and when I look at him he's frowning.
"The good thing is that you're on the lists. You didn't wait until you didn't have anything left – that was smart. Now all you've got to do is hold out until the funding comes through. Keep doing what you're doing, try to stay afloat. The centre will help as much as it can – that's what we're here for. Now, what about your parents? Are they in the picture?" He looks like he's reluctant to talk about it, like it's normally a sore subject to bring up but he has to. I hate to confirm his reluctance.
"Dad's dead and Mum is hopeless. I'm all she's got," I mumble and it's at that exact point, at the realization that I'm all Prim has and I'm not much of anything, that brings me to the edge and I lose it. The sobs are silent, thankfully, because I can hear the ribbing that's happening in the hallway outside the room and I'd hate for people to hear me. But Haymitch sees and he doesn't move to comfort me or hold my hand and goddamn him I'm thankful for that because I can't take his pity right now.
Haymitch grows a little bit more in my eyes for not coddling me in this moment. I respect it.
"She's got one hell of a fighter on her side," is all he says before he slides a Kleenex box across the desk to me and hands me a folder with the financial forms I need to fill out and have Prim sign.
On my way out I ignore the calls of my name from Peeta behind the reception desk. I didn't realize that the day had passed so quickly and that it's already mid-afternoon when I finally escape onto the street. I'm halfway to my car when Peeta calls out again from behind me and I turn to find him standing three steps away.
"Is everything okay? Is Prim okay?" He asks carefully and takes another step closer. His hands are in his pockets again but I can see the tension carried in his shoulders and the frown lines on his forehead. I nod and brush at my damp cheeks, damning myself for crying.
"She's fine. Just other stuff," I mumble and nod again to myself before turning away and taking another few steps to my car.
"Want to come have some pasta?" He prompts again and I have to laugh at the oddity of his question. Turning back, I can't hold in the smile.
"What?" I ask and take in his infectious grin.
"Lunch – I've got some extra. Come share it, talk a bit. Keep me company." He holds out his hand and I take it carefully.
"Okay, but I've got to head home before four or else Prim will freak."
Together we head back into the centre. Once inside, Peeta grabs another chair and pulls it around behind the reception desk for me to sit in while he lands heavily in his own spinning just a little. I can't help the smile that blooms when he turns back to me after clearing off a space and handing me a plastic fork.
"So, tell me Katniss Everdeen, what's your story?" Peeta prompts as soon as we're settled. The question knocks me off balance for a moment and I stare at him, mouth agape, as he stabs some cold pasta onto his own fork. When he looks up again and sees me staring, he laughs lightly as his cheeks flare red. "Okay – maybe too forward a question. How about, what do you do?"
"Oh, um. Well, right now I'm doing temp work. I didn't get to finish my degree yet and finding something that pays the bills here is still a bit tricky. How about you? Johanna said you teach?" I reply, hastily trying to steer the conversation away from myself. I hate talking about myself, particularly about how much I'm screwing things up.
"You talked to Jo about me?" His eyes light up with mirth as he laughs, dipping his head to hide the food in his mouth as he chews.
"Well, she mentioned it when you weren't here..." My voice is small, unsure if he's laughing at me or at the idea of Johanna and I gossiping about him. Which we weren't. At all.
"Yeah, of course. No, I teach art classes to pay the bills. Didn't need a degree for that, thankfully. It's just the best – plus, I get to use all of those supplies. It's awesome. What are you studying?" I respond lightly to his questions, usually trying to steer them away from myself and onto other things. Eventually, Peeta starts to catch on and we move towards more meaningless questions like my favourite colour and whether I'm good at pinball or not.
Afterwards, as I head towards home, I realize that lunch was the easiest thing I've done in a while. I don't know what particularly it is, but Peeta is almost effortless to talk to. It's even easier once you get him talking about the kids in his art class, which he teaches at the local public school, and you get to see the light fill his eyes like nothing else.
Prim isn't home though when I get back. I start the prep on dinner and am just finishing mixing the salad when four-thirty rolls by. Sending a quick text, I try not to let the anxiety pool in my gut. When she still isn't home by five and there's no answer on my phone I give in and call Gale. He picks up on the third ring.
"Where are you?" He grunts into the phone, recognizing my number. "Why didn't you answer your phone?" I nearly drop my phone in surprise and I can't help the defensive tone from creeping into my voice as the remnants of my good mood created by my afternoon with Peeta disappear in a blip.
"What are you talking about?" I snap. "Is she with you?"
"Yes – she's napping on my couch. She tried to call you three times but you never picked up. Where were you?" He asks accusingly and I nearly snap my phone in two.
"My phone didn't ring Gale, not once. I've been home for the past two hours waiting for her. Why is she there? Is she alright?" The anger seems to dissipate as the fear overtakes me. I'm grabbing my car keys and wallet and walking out the door before he's even answered my question.
"She was dizzy out shopping. Said she couldn't reach you so I brought her here," he responds and the venom seems to lessen.
"Okay. Alright. I'm on my way; give me fifteen." I state and click the phone closed as I slide the buckle into the clasp.
I make it in ten.
"Hey, Prim," I croon as I brush her bangs off her forehead. It's a little clammy but nothing I haven't dealt with since being home. "Come on Little Duck, let's go home."
"Where were you?" she moans and curls up a little tighter. I try to ignore the accusation and the harsh stare that is affixed to me from Gale who's standing behind me. Instead I reach my hands towards her and softly pull her up into a seated position.
"I had my phone on the whole time – I don't know why it didn't ring. You know I'd never not pick up," I defend myself and go to reach for her phone. I check her outgoing calls and see my name reflected back. When I go to check my contact card, I see it still has my Portland number listed. She must have forgotten I changed it. I look to Gale sadly and show him her phone before reaching down to pick my sister up and wrap an arm around her waist.
"Here, I've got her," Gale insists and lifts her into his arms as though she's as light as a feather. We make our way down to the car and he slides her into the passenger seat carefully before buckling her up.
"Thank you for getting her, Gale." I thank him quietly as he pokes his head in the door. I see the swift nod before he shuts it and steps back onto the curb. The drive home is eerily quiet as I think about the look Gale had given me before I drove off.
Back before I'd moved to Portland, Gale had been the one I leaned on through thick and thin. We'd been together for years, both as friends and as more, before I had to leave for school – before I had to leave him behind.
The relationship hadn't quite survived the distance. We grew apart, unable to maintain a long distance connection without the everyday reassurances that we used to have. Our stubbornness and jealousy seemed to pick at us like open sores before we finally broke it off and tried to revert back to friends.
It had only sort of worked. We stayed in contact, still managed to visit one another when we were in town, and somehow we even still had that trust we'd relied on for all those years. Gale was familiar, comforting and reliable and I couldn't lose him or his family.
But I can't really forgive him for the secret he kept. Not yet anyways. I'm simply not there yet.
AN: Have I mentioned that my beta, Opaque, is the person who is making this story possible? Her skills in not just editing my terrible grammar but also pointing out questions and angles that I don't/haven't approached fully is unbelievable. She is making this story so much better and I'm so glad to be sharing our work with you guys. Thank you for reading, thank you for reviewing, and please, come visit me on Tumblr if you have any questions - lollercakesff. Much love.