He couldn’t concentrate on the articles, though he tried; really he just didn’t want to look at what was inside the envelopes that looked like bills. He looked at every article and even read the classifieds in the back before returning it to the bag and drawing a fortifying breath. It’s just mail, it can’t kill you. At least not directly.
A new insurance card for the car. The gas bill—lower than usual. So far this wasn’t too bad.
An envelope from their health insurance company. His shoulders sagged. He felt defeated already.
He slowly ripped it open and pulled out the pages. Eight of them in all, filled front and back with a mess of confusing tables and codes and procedure names he couldn’t decipher. The last page ended with a total due to each provider. Their combined total had five digits before the decimal.
His vision began to swim. Maybe he wouldn’t have been so devastated if he hadn’t gotten that email first. But now …
“Babe?”
Savannah’s voice startled him, despite how quiet it was. He sniffed, tried to blink away the tears standing in his eyes. “Hey, I thought you were sleeping.”
“You okay?”
“I’m fine, babe. I’m fine.” He gave her a smile, but she shook her head.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, seriously. I’m just … tired. I’m sorry if I woke you up. I didn’t mean to.”
She lifted a hand and he took it in his own. Her eyes were bright despite the rest of her face looking so drawn. “I’ll be okay.”
“I know you will. I believe you.”
“Believe God.”
He hated that his gut reaction was one of cynicism. “I do, babe. You’re going to be fine. Everything is going to work out, I know.”
She smiled and her eyes drifted shut. He waited until her hand was limp in his, then lowered it back to the bed.
He wanted so badly to believe what he’d said. He wanted to trust that God had a plan that involved Savannah recovering and Shaun winning the lottery, or discovering buried treasure behind the trees in their backyard, or anything that would allow him to finally get out from under the crushing financial struggle that was sucking both him and their bank account dry. But all he felt was despair, and no amount of praying seemed to help.
J ESSIE FELT LIKE A POSTER CHILD FOR MURPHY’S LAW.
She’d been back on campus for less than 24 hours, and it had been one lousy break after another. For obvious reasons Shaun hadn’t been able to help her move in, so she’d been stuck moving her belongings herself. That in and of itself wouldn’t have been too bad, but because so many others were vying for the moving carts and the elevators were so packed, it had taken her way longer than she’d had time for, given all the details that still needed to be dealt with for the freshman dinner. Then she’d made the mistake of stacking too much on the cart once she got one, and a bump in the sidewalk had sent her desktop computer crashing to the pavement. The accidental damage insurance would take care of it; but she’d have to find time to file the claim—and until that was all sorted she was without her music or internet or email.
With so much time taken up with moving in, she’d had no time to start getting her room in order before having to abandon it for the dinner prep. That meant she had no idea where the shoes were that matched the outfit she’d planned on wearing that night, or where her bathroom caddy was so she could shower before the evening’s event. And apparently she had “customer service representative” tattooed on her forehead, because any time she ventured outside her room she got stopped by a freshman or parent asking her questions she had no idea how to answer. The resident advisor still hadn’t arrived, and as one of the few upperclassmen in the dorm, she was like a beacon to all the new students who were trying to figure out how to get their beds de-bunked or their computers set up to the internet.
And as if all that weren’t enough to stress her out, her
A new insurance card for the car. The gas bill—lower than usual. So far this wasn’t too bad.
An envelope from their health insurance company. His shoulders sagged. He felt defeated already.
He slowly ripped it open and pulled out the pages. Eight of them in all, filled front and back with a mess of confusing tables and codes and procedure names he couldn’t decipher. The last page ended with a total due to each provider. Their combined total had five digits before the decimal.
His vision began to swim. Maybe he wouldn’t have been so devastated if he hadn’t gotten that email first. But now …
“Babe?”
Savannah’s voice startled him, despite how quiet it was. He sniffed, tried to blink away the tears standing in his eyes. “Hey, I thought you were sleeping.”
“You okay?”
“I’m fine, babe. I’m fine.” He gave her a smile, but she shook her head.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, seriously. I’m just … tired. I’m sorry if I woke you up. I didn’t mean to.”
She lifted a hand and he took it in his own. Her eyes were bright despite the rest of her face looking so drawn. “I’ll be okay.”
“I know you will. I believe you.”
“Believe God.”
He hated that his gut reaction was one of cynicism. “I do, babe. You’re going to be fine. Everything is going to work out, I know.”
She smiled and her eyes drifted shut. He waited until her hand was limp in his, then lowered it back to the bed.
He wanted so badly to believe what he’d said. He wanted to trust that God had a plan that involved Savannah recovering and Shaun winning the lottery, or discovering buried treasure behind the trees in their backyard, or anything that would allow him to finally get out from under the crushing financial struggle that was sucking both him and their bank account dry. But all he felt was despair, and no amount of praying seemed to help.
J ESSIE FELT LIKE A POSTER CHILD FOR MURPHY’S LAW.
She’d been back on campus for less than 24 hours, and it had been one lousy break after another. For obvious reasons Shaun hadn’t been able to help her move in, so she’d been stuck moving her belongings herself. That in and of itself wouldn’t have been too bad, but because so many others were vying for the moving carts and the elevators were so packed, it had taken her way longer than she’d had time for, given all the details that still needed to be dealt with for the freshman dinner. Then she’d made the mistake of stacking too much on the cart once she got one, and a bump in the sidewalk had sent her desktop computer crashing to the pavement. The accidental damage insurance would take care of it; but she’d have to find time to file the claim—and until that was all sorted she was without her music or internet or email.
With so much time taken up with moving in, she’d had no time to start getting her room in order before having to abandon it for the dinner prep. That meant she had no idea where the shoes were that matched the outfit she’d planned on wearing that night, or where her bathroom caddy was so she could shower before the evening’s event. And apparently she had “customer service representative” tattooed on her forehead, because any time she ventured outside her room she got stopped by a freshman or parent asking her questions she had no idea how to answer. The resident advisor still hadn’t arrived, and as one of the few upperclassmen in the dorm, she was like a beacon to all the new students who were trying to figure out how to get their beds de-bunked or their computers set up to the internet.
And as if all that weren’t enough to stress her out, her
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