wiped out on the Slip ’N Slide.
It wasn’t glamorous; it was real life. Real good life.
Somewhere in her past Lorna must have been one of those happy kids, because the idea that this was what being a grown-up meant was so deeply ingrained that she couldn’t shake it.
The shoes—suddenly more important than ever—were originally $380, but now they were just $75. For these timeless beautifully made works of wearable art! They defined a time, a place, in history. Without them, she felt the irrational certainty that she would actually lose something. Canceling the order was like giving up a great investment. Like telling a 1970s Bill Gates his ideas seemed too risky.
Maybe she needed to rethink this. Maybe it wasn’t necessary to actually cancel these orders, considering what a great deal they were. Instead, maybe she should just vow to not keep looking.
Leaving the cursor flickering on her screen, she got up and paced the floor for a moment, considering the possibilities. There was no doubt about it: that seventy-five dollars would be money well spent. In fact, she could, theoretically, just keep the shoes in their box and sell them as vintage in mint condition someday. That could actually make a lot of sense.
She decided what she’d do was check her mail and see if there was anything pressing that would prevent her from this one tiny indulgence. The electric bill was paid. She was pretty sure the gas bill was, too. And, given the fact that West Bethesda Credit Union had let her charge go through with the power company earlier, presumably her credit cards—or at least that one—were current.
She went to the small pile of mail and started sifting through it.
One return address caught her eye: CAPITAL AUTO LOANS.
Her stomach dropped.
It had been a month or two since she’d made her car payment. Capital Auto was always so lax about it that it was one of the payments she’d let slide. At an interest rate of just under 6 percent, it didn’t quite make sense to pay it off.
She tore the envelope open, bracing herself for two months’ worth of payments at the worst. Two hundred and seventy-eight times two. Five hundred and fifty-six bucks. She’d have that…soon.
But when she took the letter out, words in bold font leapt out at her like something in a movie. SERIOUSLY DELINQUENT. THIRD NOTICE.
REPOSSESS.
JULY 22.
Today was July 22.
They were going to repossess her car.
Lorna crumpled the paper and hurled it at the wall, shouting words that would have gotten her detention for a month in Catholic school.
How the hell had this happened? Heart pounding, she paced more rapidly now, trying to figure out where to put herself. Finally, she flopped down on the couch—the very one that would probably be repossessed next month, if this month was any indication—and put her head in her hands.
What was she going to do ?
There was no way she could go to her stepmother again. Lucille had made it absolutely clear that the ten-thousand-dollar loan she’d given Lorna after her father’s death was it . It was all Lorna would ever get in the way of an inheritance. And it was probably fair, given that at least some of the life insurance money had gone to pay off the mortgage on her father’s house.
That ten thousand dollars had felt like a lifesaver seven years ago, and, though Lorna hated to use it on her own frivolous debt, she’d vowed then never to make another credit card purchase in her life.
How she’d managed to do it again, and again, and again, she couldn’t say for sure. But there were some valid reasons interspersed in there—a medical bill here, food there—just enough to get her hooked again. Just enough to get her stuck in the “another few bucks won’t make a difference” mentality.
It was financial death by dollars.
Lorna tapped her fingertips together, thinking. Thinking. She had to come up with something. Anything. Jewelry she could sell, extra jobs she could take on, convenience stores
It wasn’t glamorous; it was real life. Real good life.
Somewhere in her past Lorna must have been one of those happy kids, because the idea that this was what being a grown-up meant was so deeply ingrained that she couldn’t shake it.
The shoes—suddenly more important than ever—were originally $380, but now they were just $75. For these timeless beautifully made works of wearable art! They defined a time, a place, in history. Without them, she felt the irrational certainty that she would actually lose something. Canceling the order was like giving up a great investment. Like telling a 1970s Bill Gates his ideas seemed too risky.
Maybe she needed to rethink this. Maybe it wasn’t necessary to actually cancel these orders, considering what a great deal they were. Instead, maybe she should just vow to not keep looking.
Leaving the cursor flickering on her screen, she got up and paced the floor for a moment, considering the possibilities. There was no doubt about it: that seventy-five dollars would be money well spent. In fact, she could, theoretically, just keep the shoes in their box and sell them as vintage in mint condition someday. That could actually make a lot of sense.
She decided what she’d do was check her mail and see if there was anything pressing that would prevent her from this one tiny indulgence. The electric bill was paid. She was pretty sure the gas bill was, too. And, given the fact that West Bethesda Credit Union had let her charge go through with the power company earlier, presumably her credit cards—or at least that one—were current.
She went to the small pile of mail and started sifting through it.
One return address caught her eye: CAPITAL AUTO LOANS.
Her stomach dropped.
It had been a month or two since she’d made her car payment. Capital Auto was always so lax about it that it was one of the payments she’d let slide. At an interest rate of just under 6 percent, it didn’t quite make sense to pay it off.
She tore the envelope open, bracing herself for two months’ worth of payments at the worst. Two hundred and seventy-eight times two. Five hundred and fifty-six bucks. She’d have that…soon.
But when she took the letter out, words in bold font leapt out at her like something in a movie. SERIOUSLY DELINQUENT. THIRD NOTICE.
REPOSSESS.
JULY 22.
Today was July 22.
They were going to repossess her car.
Lorna crumpled the paper and hurled it at the wall, shouting words that would have gotten her detention for a month in Catholic school.
How the hell had this happened? Heart pounding, she paced more rapidly now, trying to figure out where to put herself. Finally, she flopped down on the couch—the very one that would probably be repossessed next month, if this month was any indication—and put her head in her hands.
What was she going to do ?
There was no way she could go to her stepmother again. Lucille had made it absolutely clear that the ten-thousand-dollar loan she’d given Lorna after her father’s death was it . It was all Lorna would ever get in the way of an inheritance. And it was probably fair, given that at least some of the life insurance money had gone to pay off the mortgage on her father’s house.
That ten thousand dollars had felt like a lifesaver seven years ago, and, though Lorna hated to use it on her own frivolous debt, she’d vowed then never to make another credit card purchase in her life.
How she’d managed to do it again, and again, and again, she couldn’t say for sure. But there were some valid reasons interspersed in there—a medical bill here, food there—just enough to get her hooked again. Just enough to get her stuck in the “another few bucks won’t make a difference” mentality.
It was financial death by dollars.
Lorna tapped her fingertips together, thinking. Thinking. She had to come up with something. Anything. Jewelry she could sell, extra jobs she could take on, convenience stores
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