Things Remembered by Georgia Bockoven

never shared that kind of thing with her grandmother, especially where Jim was concerned.
    Anna had said from the beginning that Jim was the wrong man for Karla. Karla had been furious the first time she expressed her opinion and unforgiving when it turned out that Anna was right.
    The almost century-old pipes clanged as Anna turned on the shower. Karla wiped her hands on the kitchen towel and reached for the phone on the wall above the table. She had her hand on the receiver when the bell sounded.
    â€œAnna Olsen’s residence,” Karla said.
    â€œKarla—thank goodness you’re there. I was afraid you might still be en route from Heather’s.”
    At the sound of Grace’s overly cheerful voice—the one she used when she wanted something—the French toast Karla had eaten turned to a lump in her stomach. “I got in last night. Why are you looking for me?”
    â€œWe forgot about the insurance for the new car.”
    â€œNo, we didn’t. You said you were going to call your agent first thing Monday morning.”
    â€œThat’s not what I mean. You forgot to figure how much it was going to cost when you arranged the financing.”
    Karla was suddenly, overwhelmingly weary. She leaned into the wall and cradled the receiver between her shoulder and ear. “You don’t include insurance in an auto loan, Grace. That’s something you take care of separately. The same way you did with your old car.”
    â€œI didn’t have insurance on the old car.”
    â€œYou must have. You can’t renew your license in California without proof of insurance.” The silence that followed lasted so long Karla began to wonder if they’d been disconnected. “I saw a current tag on your old car, Grace. If you didn’t pay to have it renewed, how did it get there?”
    â€œYou don’t want to know.”
    â€œI hope you didn’t tell the insurance agent about this.”
    â€œI’m not stupid, Karla,” she said testily. “And I don’t need a lecture.”
    â€œSo why did you call?”
    â€œI need eight hundred and twelve dollars to pay the first six months’ insurance or that idiot salesman won’t let me pick up my car.”
    After all she’d already been through to help Grace get reliable transportation, it seemed stupid to stop at eight hundred and twelve dollars. Still, it grated that Grace had automatically assumed she was good for it. “Did you ask about making monthly payments?”
    â€œWhat good would that do? You saw my bills. You know I barely get by on what I make now.”
    Much to Grace’s annoyance, Karla had insisted on looking at her expenses to see whether she could handle monthly car payments. Between the cost of acting, singing, and dancing lessons along with being seen at restaurants the in-crowd frequented and the upkeep on the wardrobe she insisted she needed to impress the “right people,” Grace barely made her portion of the rent each month. If her two roommates hadn’t had the power to evict her, Karla doubted Grace would have taken that commitment seriously. Karla had refused to cosign the loan until Grace agreed to follow the budget she set up for her. A budget that accommodated the car payment, but not the insurance.
    â€œSo you’re asking me for a loan?” Karla said.
    â€œYou know I’m good for it.”
    Karla opened Anna’s junk drawer and poked around for a pen and paper. “Give me the name and address of the insurance agent. I’ll get a check out to him today.”
    â€œCouldn’t you just call and give him your credit card number? The car is going to be ready this afternoon.”
    It might be the reasonable thing to do, but Karla wasn’t in the mood to be reasonable. “It’s a check or nothing.”
    â€œI have an audition tomorrow. How am I supposed to get there?”
    â€œTake the bus.”
    â€œThe