Ill Will by J.M. Redmann Read Free Book Online

blood in your kitchen,” Torbin grumbled.
    I started to say something, but Cordelia spoke first.
    “Torbin, I can’t do surgery on our table.” Her voice was calm, reasonable, another professional side of her I rarely saw—she understood the pain and fear wasn’t about her, but about the cancer or the cut, the control disease or harm rips from us. “Andy is lucky, no cut tendon, the knife seems to have hit the fatty pad below the thumb. There will be a scar; even the best stitches probably wouldn’t prevent that.”
    “I guess this is what we get for medical care when we can’t make someone money,” Tobin complained.
    “How much are we charging you?” I retorted. He seemed to forget that he was getting free medical care right now, from someone who had already put in a long day.
    “It’s okay, Micky,” Cordelia said. “I know what he means. The system isn’t perfect.”
    “It’s designed to not be perfect,” Andy said quietly. “I’ve been doing a lot of work for one company, so I asked about a real job. The guy I talked to told me that they’re only using consultants now, independent contractors, to avoid the cost of benefits, like health insurance.”
    “This is crazy,” Torbin said. “We make enough money to do okay, but we both have to look for full-time jobs we might not want just to have enough insurance not to be stuck in the gangland emergency room.”
    “What if we didn’t know you?” Andy queried. “I’d be a home right now dousing my hand with hydrogen peroxide, hoping it would heal and I wouldn’t need any more medical care.”
    “People die, don’t they?” Torbin asked Cordelia. “They die because they’re too poor, unlucky, or just stupid. They get health care only when they’re desperate and when it’s too late.”
    “We try to have safety nets…” she started.
    “Shredded here,” he cut in. “Maybe better in other parts of the country, but I think Katrina washed ours away.”
    I could tell she was upset. Torbin had a point, a brutally sharp one. It was a flawed system, and Cordelia was a part of that system.
    “Katrina did damage,” she admitted. “It destroyed a lot of the infrastructure. Doctors left and didn’t come back. We’re short hospital beds, especially mental health ones. Plus the stress and upheaval have had tremendous health costs.” She paused as if gathering her thoughts. “But as bad as this is, there are places where it’s worse. At least New Orleans is still an urban center. You don’t have to drive a hundred miles to get to a hospital, or forty for just a doctor’s visit.”
    Before Torbin could add or argue, I cut in, “Medical care in America is screwed up, profit more important than health. But we can argue about that all night and I have slaved too hard over dinner to let the chicken burn while we wrestle about something that will take years of fighting on multiple levels to change. Now, dear cousin of mine, tell my girlfriend how much you appreciate her seeing Andy after her already long day. And you can thank me as well for arranging this free, personal health-care session for you—and for the time I’ve been deprived of her company.”
    “You have my humble apologies,” he said. But he knew he needed more than just his usual Torbin banter to get through this one. He put his arms around Cordelia and hugged her. “Thank you,” he said to her. “It’s…it means a lot to have people like you in our lives.”
    “You’re welcome.” Cordelia returned his hug.
    “And as I tell my dear cousin almost daily, she has the best girlfriend in the world,” Torbin added. He can’t be serious long.
    I invited them to stay for dinner, but they declined. Cordelia wrote Andy a prescription for antibiotics, but cautioned him to use it only if he developed signs of infection. Good doctor to the end, she explained if he did start taking them, to take the entire course to avoid helping to contribute to resistant bacteria.
    And then we were