His Loss, Her Gain

The meals weren’t much. Enough to get by, but that’s about all there was. Dinner, lit by a nearby streetlight through the window, contained your basic needs to survive. Bills glared in hunger scratching our wallets as each passing day came up dry. Maybe this is what was meant to be. Much like how a home was designed for warmth and protection. But nothing protected us from what happened. Not even a home was a home anymore, but rather, a place once lived.

It wasn’t long until the landlord banged his fat fist on the door, demanding six months of rent or ten days for a long overdue eviction. I cradled my, now fifteen month old, daughter in my arms as Mr. Dervish screamed in my face. But the solidary slam of the oak finish door left more than just silence ringing in my ears. It left me bleeding, sobbing on the floor, crushed into a hole made into a perfect 6 foot depth.

Breakfast came the next morning, not much one would expect. Better than nothing. Coming from every morning waking up to fried eggs and bacon, and the tender kiss of a man who claimed our love was forever, to cold cereal and re-brewed week old coffee…it’s not the same. Nothing will ever be the same.

The smile on Elizabeth’s face, however, still lit up the room. Her giant blue eyes and perfect curls warmed my heart. She had such an angelic innocence about her that it saddened me realizing one day her own reality will set in, and much like my own child-like wonderment, that bliss of clueless happiness will fade. But until then, and maybe even after then, I’ll smile back. Not everyday has to be like this.

Jobs didn’t come in as often as I had hoped. Restrictions became tighter, funds dipped, and many of my hometown shops had closed and for sale signs hanging on their doors. Others are just too scared to hire anyone outside of their employee circle. No one could blame them.

My phone rang, saw who it was and sent it straight to voicemail. “Who does he think he is, calling me after what he did?” I spoke to Elizabeth, who could care less about my rants. She was too focused on the wonders of the outside world and all the mysteries it has to offer. I fought hard against the urge to tell her how it really is. But she wouldn’t understand, nor would it be exactly beneficial for me to project my own cynicism upon her. It wouldn’t be fair to her. She’s one! But still…

Again, he called. I scoffed. If whatever it was so important, then he’d leave a message. To which, he did not. No surprise there. But knowing him, its to say something he doesn’t want proof of him ever saying in the first place.

After yet another job rejection, I turned around, headed back home. All I needed was one full time position somewhere. Just one. Anything would suffice. Because, then, I would be able to work out a deal with the landlord. If he’d go for it. But, as life would have it, nothing came through for me.

My life wasn’t always easy. And these moments made me miss what I thought was once terrible. Because this was no way to live. My daughter deserved better. But the thought of losing her because I failed, tightened my chest knocking the tears I’ve held back this whole time loose. Fears of the worst happening crept along the floor boards of my mind. Creaking echoes of snapped dreams and buried hopes. But I wasn’t going to give up just yet. I couldn’t. Right now, she is my world.

I checked my phone. He hadn’t called in a while. With Elizabeth taking her pre-lunch nap time, I dialed him up. It only rang a few times before he answered, “Hello.”

“What did you want?” I could feel my throat tighten, stomach flip, as he sighed on the other end. “Well,” I pressed, questioning his silence.

“Look, I know we ended on pretty bad terms, and in an unfavorable way, but I need you to do me a favor. Please.”

“Why should I do anything for you? You left us, when we needed you the most. Your daughter needs you. You didn’t even bother splitting any of that money between us. And it was meant for all of us, not just the person who claimed head of household. We are married, with a child! Not all that money was for you!”

“I understand why you would be upset, but I am begging you to do this one thing for me.”

“What do I get in return?”

“I’ll give you a fair divorce. You keep Elizabeth and I stay across the country away from you guys.”

“Was that really your choice, or hers?” Just even mentioning that other woman’s presence enraged my heart.

“Well, uh, not important. Do we have a deal?”

“I need money, John. I can’t pay the rent, and the lights are about to be shut off.”

He sighed. “So that’s a no, then?”

I pondered it for a minute. Felt like forever. I couldn’t convince him to help me financially, however, if I don’t help him, he would take what little part of this world I have left that matters the most to me away.

“Yes, I’ll help you. What is it?”

“Great! Okay, in the closet we kept our shoes, there’s a shoebox in the back. Its orange and black. I need you to mail me that today.”

“Are you kidding me? You are seriously choosing shoes over your infant child?”

“She’s like two! Besides, that’s not even true. Its what is inside that I need. Not shoes. There are no shoes in the box. Its my tax papers. I need them.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Elizabeth fussed in her stroller. “I have to go.”

I hung up, stealing the last word. After all, he deserved it.

The oven turned on, and as I placed a sheet of nuggets inside a small sigh escaped my lips. Chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, and peas. On a typical day, this would be acceptable. But for an everyday cheap meal at lunch time, it’s not as good as it was the first few times eating it. But again, better than nothing.

The day zoomed quicker than expected. John won’t like that I sat and stared at his box instead of mailing it in. Postage for this would take a meal away from his child.

“Tax documents,” I scoffed. He’s lied before on many other occasions. Wouldn’t put it past him to be lying about this as well. “Bet it’s really shoes.” The weight didn’t suggest loose papers. And when shaken, it thumped rather than scuffle around.

The lid popped off with a single flick of the index finger. He was not lying about the shoe part. However, inside sat a faux leather book. It was a little black book, with a simple band stretched across its right side. It was about an inch thick, fairly clean, and firm as if still pretty much new. Must have been well kept. I have never seen this book in my life. At the store, I’ve seen some like it, even the one John was looking at that last time we went grocery shopping.

Inside the pages were thin, but the lines spaced beautifully. “Why would he want this?”

As I continued flipping through the pages I noticed a set of numbers. One was our banks routing number. The other was to an account number I have not seen on any of our monthly statements before.

When morning came, my phone blew up with texts and calls from John demanding to know about his mail. One after the other. Instead, I turned off my phone and headed to the kitchen where I had left the book the night before. I ripped out the page, shoved it in my pocket, and later the morning dropped off his “tax papers” in the mail.

As Elizabeth clapped with the beaming sunlight on her legs inside her stroller, the bank stood down the street from the drop box.

“Hello, Mrs. Brooks!” The perky teller greeted. “Making a deposit today?”

Something about her voice tinged with condescension. Looking past it, I shook my head. “Actually, I was wanting to check balance.”

“Sure thing. Have the account number?”

I nodded, unfolding the sheet of paper from my pocket. “Sorry for the creases,” I apologized sliding over the piece of paper, almost feeling guilty. “My husband wrote it down for me. He’s busy today and asked me to see what we have left.”

The teller nodded. “That’s no problem, Mrs. Brooks. I’m just glad to hear you guys aren’t struggling like most of the people here.”

Jealousy. Spite poured from her crooked smile. I sighed, keeping calm. “If only you knew.”

Looking at her screen the teller stopped typing. “Oh! Well, you’re doing much better than I originally thought.”

“What do you mean,” I shook my head.

“You have twenty-thousand dollars in your account as of last Friday. Would you be making a withdraw today?”

I stood there, shocked. I couldn’t move, or breathe. This was what he wanted? How could he keep this from his own wife and daughter? This must have been his own private savings account. One he didn’t tell me about, that’s for sure.

“Ma’am?”

“Yes. Yes. Uh, no. Actually can I do a transfer of funds, and close this account please?”

“Sure, not a problem. Sign these papers, and it will take seven days post to become available in your main account. Is that okay?” She handed the papers over, I signed my name and pushed them back.

“I want to withdraw about a thousand, then, if it takes seven days.”

She nodded. And up until I left a brush of joy swept over me knowing that now will get better. Not all at once, but in time. Something is better than nothing.