and we won’t.” He hoped his voice held enough conviction to make her drop the point.
“Fine. I’ll take my victories where I can get them—we’ll discuss it another time. You fly out on Monday morning. Bye, Brad.”
Brad watched her saunter away. He ran a hand over his damaged skin.
He didn’t doubt she would bring it up again, but removing the scars was something he would never consider. They were a permanent souvenir from a bad decision that had cost him so much, as well as a constant reminder that life was short.
Besides, unless the surgeon could remove the scars he carried on the inside, what would be the point?
“DAVID, COME ON. You’re going to be late for school,” Melody called down the hallway of her two-bedroom bungalow to the room the boys shared. Opening their matching superhero backpacks, she tucked their lunch tins inside before adding juice boxes and sandwich meat to the grocery list on the fridge. She hated running out of things on a Monday, which called for a between-jobs run to the grocery store. But with the three of them recovering from illness all weekend and her shifts at the bowling alley, there really hadn’t been time.
“Worry about Josh!” David called back. “He’s out in the shed again.”
Melody moved to the kitchen window and looked across her backyard. The light in the shed was on, and through the open door she could see Josh sitting on the tiny sofa in what had once been the family’s makeshift recording studio, his father’s electric guitar on his lap. She sighed. He spent so much time out there trying to learn to play. She wished she knew how, but she’d never bothered to learn. Patrick had been playing since he was four years old, and he could play anything simply by hearing it. He’d taught Josh a few simple chords.
If only music lessons weren’t so expensive, she would have signed both boys up for them. She was struggling just to keep the equipment. She hated the idea of selling Patrick’s things, a few times in the past couple of years the idea had tempted her. She didn’t go out to the shed anymore. The sight evoked memories that were too much to take, longings that were too hard to face. But she couldn’t sell the equipment if Josh wanted to use it.
Leaning forward, she opened the window. She shivered in the blast of cold air. “Come on, Josh. Time for school,” she called.
A minute later, the kitchen door opened and Josh entered, leaving a trail of wet snow on the floor. “Here’s the mail, Mom.”
She chose to ignore the mess and thank him for the gesture. Eight-year-old boys were oblivious to things like tracking mud or snow through the house. “Thanks, honey,” she said, accepting the stack and tossing it into a bin on the counter. She unrolled a sheet of paper towel and bent to wipe up the clumps of snow.
“Aren’t you going to check the mail?” Josh asked.
“I will later. We’re in a bit of a hurry now.” She didn’t need to look through the stack to know it held an overwhelming number of overdue notices. Besides, this was exam day, and she was trying her best not to let anything frazzle her.
“But there might be something important in there,” Josh persisted.
He was up to something. “You’re right. I should probably check it now.” Picking up the stack, she noticed a piece of blue construction paper sticking out of one corner. She pretended to flip through the rest. “Bills, bills...ah, what is this?” She shot a glance toward him, then pulled out the construction paper, which was folded like a greeting card. She read aloud, “‘Good luck, Mom.’” On the front was a drawing of a bouquet of flowers and on the inside the boys had signed their names.
Josh’s smile reached from ear to ear. “David and I made it with Lauralee last week. We didn’t actually mail it,” he confessed.
“Thank you, Josh. I love it.” She gave him a hug. She didn’t doubt the card had been his idea. Her boys may have been identical in appearance, but they had different personalities. Josh was more thoughtful than David, whose hardheadedness she knew he’d inherited from her. David kept his emotions to himself most of the time, while Josh was more like his father—open and kind. Tucking the card into her purse, she said, “Can you please go get that brother of yours? We’re going to be late.”
She checked her watch, noticing the slight trembling of her hand. She didn’t feel nervous about the exam, though she suspected she must be, subconsciously. A lot was riding on this opportunity. She would feel much better about things once it was over. She was the only employee at the Brookhollow store who had completed the course, so she was confident the position would be hers if things went well today.
Flipping through the rest of the mail only reinforced how much she needed this promotion. The envelope for her power bill was stamped with a huge red Final Notice. The overdue stamp on the cable-bill envelope was smaller—it would have to wait. The boys would lose their minds if the cable was shut off, but sleeping in a cold, dark house would have been far worse. Hopefully, she’d be able to catch up on the outstanding debt in the first half of the new year.
As she placed a stack of flyers on the edge of the counter for recycling, another envelope fell to the floor. When she picked it up, her heart rate soared—it was from the Brookhollow Trust, her bank. It wasn’t her usual bank statement, which always came in a white envelope, or the mortgage bill, which came in a small tan one. This was a thick, heavy legal-size manila envelope.
“Ready, Mom!” David announced, appearing in the doorway of the kitchen. He grabbed his backpack and tossed Josh’s to him.
“Okay, take the keys and go get in the van. I’ll be right out. Don’t forget your hat and gloves.” She returned her attention to the envelope as the boys disappeared down the hall. She waited until she heard the front door close before she opened the mailing. She paused. Did she really need to read this now? Maybe she should wait until the evening. But if she didn’t, it would be on her mind all day, anyway.
Inside was a copy of the mortgage and a statement summary showing the current balance and payment history. She swallowed hard. Six missed payments that year. Had it been that many? She’d expected two, maybe three, but six? She scanned the missed months. Yeah, six was correct. Money had been tight that year, especially with David needing glasses for school and the front window of the house needing replacing after Josh had thrown a baseball through it that summer.
She turned to the last page, which was a letter from Jeff Thompson, the bank’s branch manager and a guy she’d gone to school with. Now their boys played together on the same hockey team. Her knees all but gave way beneath her as she read.
Dear Ms. Myers,
We regret to inform you that due to the arrears owing on your mortgage, we are obligated to ask for payment to bring your account up-to-date. If you are unable to settle the debt, we will be forced to foreclose on the property as of January 1...
The letter continued, but that was all she needed to read. They were going to take her house? The room around her began to spin, and the little blue flowers on the outdated wallpaper she’d loved when they first moved in danced around her. She closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the spinning. January 1 was less than a month away. Even with the promotion, she wasn’t sure if she could settle the debt that quickly. Thirty-two-hundred dollars just to bring the payments up-to-date. She folded the letter and slid everything
