The School Kitchen Job I Took to Stay Insured

Joan

I went back at one thirty. The cafeteria is the same one I ate in as a girl. It still smells like yeast rolls and floor wax.

Joan was wiping down the serving line when I came in. She is sixty years old, with gray hair she keeps short and glasses she wears on a beaded chain when she is not using them.

I had known Joan to say hello to for years. She goes to the other church. Her husband had been a county road grader operator until he retired, and her grandkids were in 4-H with mine.

She sat me down at one of the lunch tables and set her clipboard aside. She looked at my application for a long time. Then she looked at me over the top of her glasses.

“Tammy Albrecht,” she said. “Why on earth do you want this job, hon?”

I had planned a nice answer on the drive over. I opened my mouth to say it, and what came out was the truth.

I told her about the biopsy and the port. I told her about the renewal papers and the number circled in pencil. I told her I needed insurance.

I did not cry, which surprised me. I said it the way you would read off a grocery list. When I was done, Joan took off her glasses and wiped them on the corner of her apron for a long while.

“Does Ron know you’re here?” she asked.

“No.”

She nodded slowly. She did not say one word against him, and I have thought about that since. She just put her glasses back on and picked up her clipboard.

“The insurance starts the first of the month after you’ve worked thirty days,” she said. “You understand that? If you start this week, you won’t be covered until November first.”

“I understand,” I said. “I’ll buy a month on the marketplace for October. Losing his plan lets me enroll outside the open season. I already looked.”

“How much?”

“Five hundred and eighty-eight dollars.”

Joan whistled through her teeth. Then she said, “Can you start Monday?”

“My first treatment is Thursday,” I said. “Next Thursday. In Salina.”

“Then you had better start Monday,” Joan said. “That way you’ll know where everything is before you feel lousy.”