Chương 4
Toward the version of me who had signed things quickly because getting out of the marriage had felt more urgent than understanding every page.
“What do I do?”
“First, send me the decree.”
“I can do that.”
“Second, contact the collector in writing.”
“They barely know whether they own the debt.”
“That happens more often than it should.”
“That’s comforting.”
“I didn’t mean it to be.”
I heard papers moving on her end.
“There’s something else.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“Your debt-to-income ratio is close.”
“How close?”
“Close enough that paying the collection out of pocket could reduce your available funds below the reserve requirement.”
“So paying it might hurt me.”
“Potentially.”
“And not paying it might hurt me.”
“Yes.”
“That seems designed by a sadist.”
Marisol laughed once.
“I am professionally unable to comment.”
I looked through Lena’s front window.
A man across the street was scraping ice from his windshield with what looked like a credit card.
I had the absurd thought that at least somebody’s plastic was still useful.
Marisol continued.
“Don’t move money yet.”
“Okay.”
“Let me review the decree first.”
“I’ll send it this morning.”
“And Claire?”
“Yes?”
“You still have time.”
The sentence nearly undid me.
Not because it promised anything.
Because it didn’t.
It was simply true.
I thanked her and hung up.
Lena appeared beside me holding a mug.
“Coffee.”
I took it.
“You’re a good person.”
“Don’t spread that around.”
I opened the cardboard box marked PAPERS.
The divorce documents were somewhere beneath old tax forms, Emma’s kindergarten enrollment records, and a folder of receipts I had kept for reasons no accountant would respect.
Emma joined me on the floor.
“What are you finding?”
“Boring adult documents.”
“Can I help?”
“You can look for a big envelope that says Morgan versus Morgan.”
She wrinkled her nose.
“You fought yourself?”
“Basically.”
She accepted that answer and started sorting.
Five minutes later she held up a yellow folder.
“This?”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
Then her smile faded.
“Is this about Dad?”
I took the folder carefully.
“Some of it.”
“Is he in trouble?”
“No.”
“Are we?”
The question came without fear.
That made it worse.
I put the folder aside.
“We’re working on where we’re going to live.”
“Here?”
“Not forever.”
“With Grandma?”
“No.”
Emma looked down at her hospital bracelet.
She had refused to let the nurse cut it off the day before.
“Good.”
The word was so quiet I almost missed it.
I touched the plastic band.
“You want this off yet?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“Not until I feel normal.”
I did not tell her that normal had become a moving target.
I found the decree on page twelve.
Eric Morgan shall assume sole responsibility for the joint revolving account ending in 4418 and shall indemnify and hold harmless Claire Morgan from all associated balances and liabilities.
The language looked powerful until I remembered Marisol’s explanation.
Between me and Eric, it mattered.
Between me and the creditor, perhaps not enough.
I scanned the page and emailed it.
Then I called Eric.
He did not answer.
I waited three minutes and called again.
Nothing.
On the third attempt, he picked up.
“What?”
His voice was rough with sleep.
“It’s Claire.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t pay the Meridian card.”
Silence.
Then a sigh.
“Good morning to you too.”
“The balance is almost five thousand dollars.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
“It is.”
“Well, I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want you to tell me why.”
“I paid on it.”
“That wasn’t the agreement.”
“I said I paid on it.”
“You were supposed to pay it off.”
“Claire, I lost my job.”
“When?”
Another pause.
“Last year.”
I stood.
“You never told me.”
“We’re divorced.”
“You still have a daughter.”
“I send support.”
“Late.”
“I send it.”
I walked into the kitchen because sitting still had become impossible.
Lena looked up from her laptop.
I pointed to the phone, and she silently took Emma into the spare room with a coloring book.
“Did you stop paying the card completely?”
“I missed some months.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“Eric.”
“Several.”
“And then?”
“It went to collections.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I thought I could fix it.”
“You didn’t.”
“I know that.”
“You knew my name was still on the account.”
“I knew the divorce said it was mine.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“I know that now.”
I leaned against the counter.
There was a dirty spoon in the sink.
I stared at it because otherwise I might start shouting.
“I’m trying to buy a house.”
Eric went silent.
The silence changed everything.
When he spoke again, his voice was different.
“You’re what?”
“A small house.”
“You never said anything.”
“I wasn’t required to.”
“No, but Emma—”
“Don’t.”
“I was going to say Emma should have stability.”
“She should.”
“I agree.”
“You agreeing doesn’t fix the collection.”
He exhaled.
“What do you need?”
I had expected defensiveness.
The question caught me off guard.
“I don’t know yet.”
“I don’t have five grand.”
“Neither do I.”
“I have maybe twelve hundred.”
“Don’t send anything.”
“Why?”
“Because paying part of it may not help.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“For the next hour?”
“Yes.”
“Find every statement, email, payment confirmation, and letter connected to that card.”
“Claire, I’m at work in two hours.”
“Then do it before work.”
He gave a humorless laugh.
“You always did make requests sound like subpoenas.”
“You always did require them.”
“Fair.”
That irritated me more than an argument would have.
“Send everything.”
“And Eric?”
“Yeah?”
“Emma got discharged yesterday.”
He went quiet again.
“I thought it was today.”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you call?”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Tuesday.”
“I didn’t get it.”
“You texted me back.”
Silence.
Then, “Right.”
I could hear him moving around.
A drawer opened.
Something hit the floor.
“How is she?”
“Tired.”
“Can I talk to her?”
“Later.”
He did not fight me.
May you like
That scared me a little.
Eric was rarely easy unless something else was wrong.
