It felt like I was in the wrong house, one that looked like mine, but belonged to someone else. When she found me drinking a glass of water in the kitchen, her eyes glazed over. It was my house all right, but I was there at a time when I shouldn’t have been.
“Don’t cry,” I said.
“How much do we have?” She always cut to what mattered most and in that moment, what mattered most was money. She didn’t care how I lost my job. I stood in our kitchen at nine-thirty in the morning and that was enough. The how didn’t really matter.
“Some,” I answered, but saving money is hard when there isn’t any extra. “Don’t worry, I’ll find something.” I didn’t know how long it would take, but I said it anyway.
“And then?” She was angry but not at me.
“I’ll find something,” I said again, matching my tone to hers. “Where are they?”
“Out back.”
I walked to the window and envied the innocence. “Who are the others?”
She shook her head. “Friends?”
“Where’s the camera? I want to save this.”
“We sold it,” she said. “The last time.”
We sold it. About a month later, I was working again and with my first check, I bought another camera. Nothing too fancy, just something that worked. Some things are more important to save than money. And easier, too.
Photo Source: DieselCrew
Well done. Cuts like a knife, just off the whetstone.
A Foster Trecost story is always interesting and somewhat mysterious. Very well done here!
Thanks J., thanks Susan – I appreciate these comments.