The next morning, I head to the pharmacy in a rush, hoping I can get what I need.
Sadly, luck wasn't on my side. Then again, when had it been?
I arrived at the pharmacy, as a redhead, with an overly tight tshirt, and stood at the counter.
"Hi, how may I help you?" She asked.
"Hi, I need to refill my prescription." I replied, tapping anxiously on the counter.
She nodded, "Name and birthdate?" She asks.
"Isabella Swan, September 13, 1993." I said.
She nodded, as she began clicking away on her keyboard. "Hm." She said, frowning.
"Oh, okay, it looks like I can't fill in your prescription for another four days." She told me, giving me a concerned look.
I sighed, "Fuck." Before turning to look at her, "Uh. Okay, Uh. I— I can't really wait four days. Look, I'm out of my long acting and short acting insulin, and my reserve vile is basically gone and it's— it's just really dangerous for me not to have this." I told her.
She sighed, "I mean, I can give you a refill of your prescription if you want to do it out of pocket." She suggested.
I shook my head, "I don't think you understand —" I began.
"No, your insurance is not renewed. So, I can't refill it. So, if you want to do it out of pocket we can do that." She cut me off.
I gave her a calm, yet annoyed look, "And .. um, how much is that?" I asked, clenching my fists.
She goes back to clicking away on her keyboard, which I so badly want to wrench from her fingers and throw at her head, before turning back to me.
A moment later the computer makes a whirring sound and she looks back at me, "Three hundred for the long-acting, two hundred twenty for the short-acting. So, a little over five hundred dollars. What do you want to do?" She asks me.
"What's the hold up?" A man asks in annoyance.
A line hand managed to form behind me, and much to my utter embarrassment, was now being held back because of me.
"Que pasa?" A familiar voice suddenly asked, appearing next to me. (What's going on?)
I turned to see the concerned face of my mother as she placed a basket on the counter.
I sighed, "Ma, nothing. Can you please just check out in the other line? This line already hates me." I replied tiredly.
"Do you want to step aside while—?" The pharmacist interrupted.
I turned to her, "Can …you just give me a second please?" I asked her annoyed.
"Necessitas que yo pague?" My mom asked me. (Do you need me to pay?)
"Quieren pagar de su bolsillo o—" the pharmacist began to ask. (Do you want to pay out of pocket or—?)
"She speaks English too, thank you." I retorted.
"Isa." My mother chastised.
"Mom." I replied.
"Porque no me hablaste?" She asked me.
(Why didn't you tell me?)
"Mom." I tried again.
"You take my cash, I'll use credit." She said handing me a small roll of money.
"Ma." I sighed
"La salud primero, Isa." She reminded me. (Health first, Isa.)
"Ma." I said as I tried to give her back the money.
"Always health first, Bella." She said as she went to the back of the line.
"Gracias." I said in defeat, before turning back towards the pharmacist. (Thank you)
The pharmacist clicked away, "Okay, that worked out. Do you wanna fill this hon? Oh." She asked me, quietly, with an excited smile.
As I counted the cash and realized that it was only a hundred and fifty dollars. Looking around desperately when I realized what this meant.
"That is— Shoot." She said.
I sighed in defeat, "Guess, I'll try to make it to Friday without it." I mumbled in defeat. "Thanks. Go Big Pharma." I snipped as I left.
I walked out of the pharmacy and headed towards my car, to wait for my mother, knowing she would want to speak to me about this incident.
An hour later, I found myself driving her to my broken down apartment, and her prattling about her day.
It had been years since we lived together, yet I sometimes missed moments like this.
My mind kept going to what happened earlier, with one question seeming to bounce around my mind. How was I going to make it til Friday?
I could hear my mother still talking, as we got out of my car.
We climbed up the three sets of stairs to my apartment as she continued to talk.
"Si quieres hacemos cena." She finally suggested as we slowly went up the stairs.( If you want we can have dinner)
"Oh good." I mumbled, slightly breathless.
"Mhm." She replied as we reached the top landing. "Bella, look, you've got a letter." She said, reaching for it.
"Mom, don't open that." I told her warningly.
She ignored me and reached for it again, opening it. She scanned the paper before giving me a look of disbelief. "Bella, you haven't paid your rent?" She asked.
I sighed before reaching for my discarded doorknob and shoving it into place. "Well, that's why I said don't open it." I told her, as I pulled the door open, and let her into the apartment.
Turning to drop the broken door knob back into the small plants that I had placed near the window when ai frost moved in, in a poor attempt to liven the place. Details suddenly didn't matter to me anymore though.
Not when there was so much more that was already weighing down in my mind.
"Your place is falling apart. How can you live like this?" She asked as looked around with a concerned frown.
"Well, I'm busy, and the little details aren't a top priority at the moment." I replied as she gave me an exasperated look.
"Isabella, you cannot not pay your rent." She chastised.
"I am going to pay it. I'm just paying it late." I informed her as I dropped my bag onto the table.
She sighed. And I immediately knew what she was going to suggest. Her suggestion wasn't an option for me. It would be like giving up and having to start all over again. I wouldn't do it.
"I'm giving the landlord's daughter free piano lessons. They're not going to just throw me out on the street." I said gesturing outside.
"Why don't you move back in with me? We can share the bedroom." She finally suggested.
"Ma!" I called out to her, trying to hide my horrified expression.
"Like when you were little." She added.
"No, I'm not twelve. I haven't been for a long time, ma. I can't go backwards." I told her.
"Entonces tienes que tener un presupuesto." She said, gesturing around us. (Then you need to form a budget.)
"Yes, but diabetes wasn't really in the budget, okay?" I said with a scoffing laugh.
"I'm so worried about you. Why are you laughing?" She asked. "Por que te ries, eh?" She repeated in Spanish. "Tienes que tomar esto con seriedad." She added. "You aren't taking this seriously. You could die at any moment." She whispered, tearfully. (Why are you laughing? / You have to take this seriously.)
"Mom! I know. I'm fine. I'm doing everything right. I'm bartending, and delivering food, and playing gigs, and teaching piano on my spare time. And I'm constantly exhausted, and running late, and I can't sleep because I have this medical debt that just grows like some mold in a basement. So, please, please just be kind to me." I rant.
I can feel myself growing more and more agitated by this conversation but there was no way around this. I knew my mom wouldn't like learning of everything I'm doing just to stay afloat. But it has to be done. I wasn't going to go apply at McDonald's to sell fries, or at Walmart get berated just for trying to help. I had already tried those jobs and that didn't end well for the people.
I sighed, trying to control my agitation.
A moment later she sighs to and takes a seat, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath as she does.
"Okay. Fine." She sighs.
"Ma." I sigh, realizing I hurt her feelings without meaning to.
"I'm okay. I know." She whispers as her voice begins to break.
I sit across from her and reach for her hand, only for her to pull away as her eyes fill with unshed tears. "I'm sorry." I whisper.
"I should be able to provide for you." She says, tearfully, as she stood up again.
"Mami, I love you so much. I didn't want to worry you. I still don't." I told her. "You know me. I'm just on my own weird journey… and … it's a little bumpy but… I love it." I add, trying to make her smile.
She continues to cry, and I move to pull her into a hug. "Thanks. I love you mama." I whisper as she cries.
"I'm sorry." She sobs brokenhearted.
"I've got this" I reply, as I try to comfort her.
She nods, and eventually do get making get to making dinner and eating it.
The rest of the week passes in a blur, and somehow melt into each other until eventually I am standing on the stage again.
The day had passed in such a blur, I have no idea how I got here.
I felt extremely exhausted, and light headed. With a possible hint of an oncoming headache.
As we stood on stage, I could feel my mouth begin to dry, and the sudden wave of lethargy hit me, causing me to sway in my seat, bad the music I was hearing to get an echo.
My band and I were doing the second song when I felt it. I knew I had to get air.
I dropped the mic, and moved quickly through the room, motioning Garrett for my bag, before heading towards the bathroom only for my legs to give out.
"Woah, are you alright?"
"Help her." A feminine voice says.
I felt them help me up, and guide me towards the bathroom. They reassured me that they'd be outside if I needed anything, to which I softly thanked them.
Then proceeded to enter the bathroom, dazed. I slowly managed to get my practically empty reserve bottle of insulin out.
Tears blurred my vision, as I injected the last of the bottle's contents into my arm. "Oh my God." I whispered as I stared at the now empty bottle, before dropping it on the ground by accident.
"Get it together, Bella." I whispered as I sat there on the ground, exhaling heavily.
Then as I stared forward, something caught my eyes.
A familiar emblem stuck to the mirror of said bathroom.
Then one person entered my mind and the conversation with Kate from a few days ago.
It couldn't work, could it?
A hopeful smile pulled at my lips as I slowly got off the ground.
There's only one way to find out.