been fertilized.
But give it a week and suddenly everything seemed different. Reality in the aftermath of the accident had finally settled in, and fertilizer it wasn't. Denise was seated at the Formica table in her small kitchen, poring through the papers in front of her, doing her best to make sense of them. The hospital stay was covered by the insurance, but the deductible was not. Her car may have been old, but it was nonetheless reliable. Now it was totaled, and she'd had only liability insurance. Her boss, Ray, bless his heart, told her to take her time coming back, and eight days had gone by without her earning a penny. The regular bills-phone, electricity, water, gas-were due in less than a week. And to top it off, she was staring at the bill from the towing service, the people who'd been called to remove her vehicle from the side of the road.
This week Denise's life was crap.
It wouldn't be so bad, of course, if she were a millionaire. These problems would be nothing more than an inconvenience then. She could imagine some socialite explaining what a bother it was to have to deal with such things. But with a few hundred bucks in the bank, this wasn't a bother. It was a bona fide problem, and a big one at that.
She could cover the regular bills with what was left in the checking account and still have enough for food if she was careful. Lots of cereal this month, that was for sure, and it was a good thing Ray let them eat for free at the diner. She could use her credit card for the hospital deductible-five hundred dollars. Luckily she'd called Rhonda-another waitress at Eights-and she'd agreed to help Denise get to and from work. That left the towing service, and fortunately they'd offered to clear the bill in exchange for the pink slip. Seventy-five dollars for the remains of her car and they'd call it even.
The net result? An additional credit card bill every month and she'd have to start riding her bicycle for errands around town. Even worse, she'd be dependent on someone to drive her to and from the diner. For a gal with a college education, this wasn't much to brag about.
Crap.
If she'd had a bottle of wine, she'd have opened it. She could have used a little escapism right now. But, hey, she couldn't even afford that.
Seventy-five bucks for her car.
Even though it was fair, somehow it just didn't seem right. She wouldn't even see the money.
After writing out the checks for her bills, she sealed the envelopes and used the last of her stamps. She'd have to swing by the post office to get some more, and she made a notation on the pad by the phone before remembering that "swinging by" had taken on a whole new meaning. If it wasn't so pathetic, she would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.
A bicycle. Lord have mercy.
Trying to look on the bright side, she told herself that at least she'd get in shape. Within a few months she might even be a little thankful for the extra fitness. "Look at those legs," she imagined people saying, "why, they're just like steel. However did you get them?"
"I ride my bike."
This time she couldn't help but giggle. She was twenty-nine years old and she'd be telling people about her bike. Lord have mercy.
Denise shook off the giggles, knowing they were simply a reaction to stress, and left the kitchen to check on Kyle. Sleeping soundly. After adjusting the covers and a quick kiss on his cheek, she headed outside and sat on the back porch, wondering yet again if she'd made the right decision to move here. Even though she knew that it was impossible, she found herself wishing she'd been able to stay in Atlanta. It would have been nice sometimes to have someone to talk to, someone she'd known for years. She supposed she could use the phone, but this month it wouldn't be possible, and there was no way she was going to call collect. Even though her friends probably wouldn't care, it wasn't something she was comfortable doing.
Still, she wanted to talk to someone. But
But give it a week and suddenly everything seemed different. Reality in the aftermath of the accident had finally settled in, and fertilizer it wasn't. Denise was seated at the Formica table in her small kitchen, poring through the papers in front of her, doing her best to make sense of them. The hospital stay was covered by the insurance, but the deductible was not. Her car may have been old, but it was nonetheless reliable. Now it was totaled, and she'd had only liability insurance. Her boss, Ray, bless his heart, told her to take her time coming back, and eight days had gone by without her earning a penny. The regular bills-phone, electricity, water, gas-were due in less than a week. And to top it off, she was staring at the bill from the towing service, the people who'd been called to remove her vehicle from the side of the road.
This week Denise's life was crap.
It wouldn't be so bad, of course, if she were a millionaire. These problems would be nothing more than an inconvenience then. She could imagine some socialite explaining what a bother it was to have to deal with such things. But with a few hundred bucks in the bank, this wasn't a bother. It was a bona fide problem, and a big one at that.
She could cover the regular bills with what was left in the checking account and still have enough for food if she was careful. Lots of cereal this month, that was for sure, and it was a good thing Ray let them eat for free at the diner. She could use her credit card for the hospital deductible-five hundred dollars. Luckily she'd called Rhonda-another waitress at Eights-and she'd agreed to help Denise get to and from work. That left the towing service, and fortunately they'd offered to clear the bill in exchange for the pink slip. Seventy-five dollars for the remains of her car and they'd call it even.
The net result? An additional credit card bill every month and she'd have to start riding her bicycle for errands around town. Even worse, she'd be dependent on someone to drive her to and from the diner. For a gal with a college education, this wasn't much to brag about.
Crap.
If she'd had a bottle of wine, she'd have opened it. She could have used a little escapism right now. But, hey, she couldn't even afford that.
Seventy-five bucks for her car.
Even though it was fair, somehow it just didn't seem right. She wouldn't even see the money.
After writing out the checks for her bills, she sealed the envelopes and used the last of her stamps. She'd have to swing by the post office to get some more, and she made a notation on the pad by the phone before remembering that "swinging by" had taken on a whole new meaning. If it wasn't so pathetic, she would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.
A bicycle. Lord have mercy.
Trying to look on the bright side, she told herself that at least she'd get in shape. Within a few months she might even be a little thankful for the extra fitness. "Look at those legs," she imagined people saying, "why, they're just like steel. However did you get them?"
"I ride my bike."
This time she couldn't help but giggle. She was twenty-nine years old and she'd be telling people about her bike. Lord have mercy.
Denise shook off the giggles, knowing they were simply a reaction to stress, and left the kitchen to check on Kyle. Sleeping soundly. After adjusting the covers and a quick kiss on his cheek, she headed outside and sat on the back porch, wondering yet again if she'd made the right decision to move here. Even though she knew that it was impossible, she found herself wishing she'd been able to stay in Atlanta. It would have been nice sometimes to have someone to talk to, someone she'd known for years. She supposed she could use the phone, but this month it wouldn't be possible, and there was no way she was going to call collect. Even though her friends probably wouldn't care, it wasn't something she was comfortable doing.
Still, she wanted to talk to someone. But
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