The Circle

see you guys. And there are plenty of those parties.”
    “But in your first week!” her mother looked pained. “Maybe you should have gone. Now
     I feel bad. We took you away from it.”
    “Trust me. They have them every other day. They’re very social over there. I’ll be
     fine.”
    “You’re not taking lunch yet, are you?” her mother asked. She made the same point
     when Mae had started at the utility: don’t take lunch your first week. Sends the wrong
     message.
    “Don’t worry,” Mae said. “I haven’t even used the bathroom.”
    Her mother rolled her eyes. “Anyway, let me just say how proud we are. We love you.”
    “And Annie,” her father said.
    “Right. We love you and Annie.”
    They ate quickly, knowing that Mae’s father would soon tire. He’d insisted on going
     out to dinner, though back at home, he rarely did anymore. His fatigue was constant,
     and could come on suddenly and strong, sending him to near-collapse. It was important,
     when out like this, to be ready to make a quick exit, and before dessert, they did
     so. Mae followed them back to their room and there, amid the B&B owners’ dozens of
     dolls, spread about the room and watching, Mae and her parents were able to relax,
     unafraid of eventualities. Mae hadn’t gotten used to her father having multiple sclerosis.
     The diagnosis had come down only two years earlier, though the symptoms had been visible
     years before that. He’d been slurring his words, had been overshooting when reaching
     for things and, finally, had fallen, twice, each time in the foyer of their house,
     reaching for the front door. So they’d sold the parking lot, made a decent profit,
     and now spent their time managing his care, which meant at least a few hours a day
     poring over medical bills and battling with the insurance company.
    “Oh, we saw Mercer the other day,” her mother said, and her father smiled. Mercer
     had been a boyfriend of Mae’s, one of the four serious ones she’d had in high school
     and college. But as far as her parents were concerned, he was the only one who mattered,
     or the only one they acknowledged or remembered. It helped that he still lived in
     town.
    “That’s good,” Mae said, wanting to end the topic. “He still makes chandeliers out
     of antlers?”
    “Easy there,” her father said, hearing her barbed tone. “He’s got his own business.
     And not that he’d brag, but it’s apparently thriving.”
    Mae needed to change the subject. “I’ve averaged 97 so far,” she said. “They say that’s
     a record for a newbie.”
    The look on her parents’ faces was bewilderment. Her father blinked slowly. They had
     no idea what she was talking about. “What’s that, hon?” her father said.
    Mae let it go. When she’d heard the words leave her mouth, she knew the sentence would
     take too long to explain. “How are things with the insurance?” she asked, and instantly
     regretted it. Why did she ask questions like this? The answer would swallow the night.
    “Not good,” her mother said. “I don’t know. We have the wrong plan. I mean, they don’t
     want to insure your dad, plain and simple, and they seem to be doing everything they
     can to get us to leave. But how can we leave? We’d have nowhere to go.”
    Her father sat up. “Tell her about the prescription.”
    “Oh, right. Your dad’s been on Copaxone for two years, for the pain. He needs it.
     Without it—”
    “The pain gets … ornery,” he said.
    “Now the insurance says he doesn’t need it. It’s not on their list of pre-approved
     medications. Even though he’s been using it two years!”
    “It seems unnecessarily cruel,” Mae’s father said.
    “They’ve offered no alternative. Nothing for the pain!”
    Mae didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry. Can I look up some alternatives online? I
     mean, have you seen if the doctors could find another drug that the insurance will
     pay for? Maybe a generic …”
    This went on for an hour, and by the end, Mae was wrecked. The MS, her helplessness
     to slow it, her inability to bring back the life her father had known—it tortured
     her, but the insurance situation was something else, was an unnecessary crime, a piling-on.
     Didn’t the insurance companies realize that the cost of their obfuscation, denial,
     all the frustration they caused, only made her father’s health worse, and threatened
     that of her mother? If nothing else, it was inefficient. The time