“I’ve made friends. It’s just that most of them are busy with their own families or have coaching obligations.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Coaching?”
Daisy shrugs. “Beth’s busy with pep squad, Jasmine’s coaching cross country, and Claire hasn’t invited me to hang out outside of school yet. And I guess I’m too afraid to ask.”
I’m admittedly a little relieved we’re talking about ashe.
“Since when do you get shy around strangers?” I pose jokingly as I turn on the TV.
“I don’t know. I guess I’ve been feeling a little overwhelmed. Maybe it’s put a damper on my confidence,” she admits quietly, pulling the thread taught again. “Or maybe I’m not as good at all this adulting as I thought I’d be.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“I guess I thought I’d be better at most of this … teaching, cooking, making friends, dating, being a self-sufficient twenty-something-year-old in general …”
“You’re not supposed to have it all figured out yet. Most people do a lot of living in their mid-twenties,” I grumble, because I refuse to allow myself to see Daisy as an adult. But then my eyes dart over to the side, running over her mostly bare shoulders and the sexy scattering of freckles down the back of her neck, and I gulp.
No—I’m not going there. It’s wrong on so many levels.
I look away quickly, forcing my gaze back to the TV. Daisy sighs wistfully, and I struggle to keep my eyes off her.
“Is this living?” she poses thoughtfully.
“Work and responsibility are just about all I’ve ever known,” I reply.
“I’m sure you hadsomeform of fun at my age, right?”
Memories of balancing part-time jobs, helping my alcoholic mom get back on her feet after another round of rehab, and laboring through medical school flood my brain.
“Less than you might think,” I turn to tell her, and she gives me a sad smile.
“More fun than having to rely on your brother’s best friend for everything and stressing over your lack of health insurance?” she asks sardonically.
I furrow my brow. “What do you mean by a lack of health insurance?”
She cringes. “Did I not mention I won’t actually qualify for benefits as a long-term sub?”
“What? Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I double checked in my employee portal. Apparently, I’d have to get a regular teaching position for all that to kick in.”
“Shit, Daisy, how could you miss something so important?” I realize a second too late that it sounds like I’m scolding her.
“I guess I misunderstood that part when I took the job,” she replies meekly.
I sigh. “Have you told your parents? Aren’t you still on their insurance?”
She shakes her head. “I’m covered until the end of this month, but I made such a big deal of them taking me off their policy that Ihaveto figure this out myself.”
“Wouldn’t you qualify for Medicaid if you filed for disability, you know, because of the epilepsy?”
“I’m not filing for disability. The whole point of coming out here was to work and become more self-sufficient,” she says resolutely.
“Then what the hell are you going to do? You can’t go without your anti-seizure meds, right?”
“I guess I’ll be saving every spare penny and using it to pay for my prescriptions out of pocket. I should get a permanent position after the holidays, once the home ec teacher retires, which means I should be eligible for coverage after the first of the year.”
“And what if you have another episode before then? What if you need to go to the hospital or see your doctor?”
