Page 34 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
“It is about my health. I wasn’t lying about that.” He wrapped his hands around his coffee cup when it arrived, staring down into the dark liquid. “I’ve been having some chest pains.”
I was immediately annoyed by the concern I felt. I didn’t want to care about anything regarding him. “And?”
“I went to the emergency room last month. They ran a bunch of tests. Heart scans, blood work, the whole nine yards.” He looked up at me, and I could see the exhaustion in his face. “My cholesterol is through the roof, and my blood pressure is borderline dangerous. The doctor said if I don’t get it under control, I could be looking at a heart attack within the year.”
“So get it under control. Take medication, change your diet, exercise.”
“That’s the thing.” Gerald leaned forward, his voice dropping. “The medication they want to put me on costs eight hundred dollars a month. My insurance won’t cover it because they say there are cheaper alternatives, but those alternatives don’t work for me. I’ve tried them.”
That tug of manipulation was back. Gerald had always been able to find a way to make me feel responsible for his problems.
“What about the job at Martinez Plumbing? Didn’t they have better insurance?”
Gerald’s jaw tightened. “That didn’t work out.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing happened. It just... didn’t work out.”
I knew that tone. It was the same one he’d used when he’d gotten fired for showing up drunk, or when he’d been caught sleeping with the dispatcher, or any of the dozen other times his poor choices had cost him employment.
“Gerald, what did you do?”
“Why does it have to be something I did? Why can’t it just be that the job wasn’t a good fit?”
“Because I’ve been married to you. I know how this works.”
He was quiet for a long moment, staring out the window at the morning foot traffic. When he finally spoke, his voice was bitter.
“I had a disagreement with Martinez about payment schedules. Some clients were slow to pay, and I thought I deserved my cut upfront instead of waiting for them to collect.”
“You were stealing.”
“I was taking what I was owed!”
“From client payments that hadn’t been collected yet.”
Gerald’s face flushed. “It’s not like that, Naomi. You don’t understand the pressures of that job. Martinez treated us like shit.”
“Stop.” I held up my hand. “Just stop. You got fired for stealing, and now you want me to feel sorry for you because you can’t afford your medication.”
“I’m not asking you to feel sorry for me. I’m asking you to help me not die.”
And there it was. The emotional manipulation that Gerald wielded like a weapon, finding the exact words that would make me feel guilty for protecting myself.
“And what if I don’t give a damn?”
His eyes widened and as much as I wanted to hold steady in what I’d said, I sighed, immediately hit with a headache.
“How much?” I asked.
He looked relived that I didn’t stick with my not giving a damn rhetoric and I could kick myself for giving in so easily. “The medication is eight hundred a month, but if I could just get the first few months covered, maybe I could find another job with better insurance.”
“How much, Gerald?”
He was quiet for a moment. “Three thousand would cover the first three months and give me some breathing room to get back on my feet.”
Three thousand dollars. It wasn’t an insignificant amount, but it wasn’t enough to cause me real financial hardship either. Which Gerald undoubtedly knew. He’d always been good at calculating how much he could ask for without pushing me to say no outright.
