“Youknow you can stay till then or as long as you like, right?”Shedrains her mug. “I’mnot saying you should.”Shereaches over and squeezes my arm again. “Butyou can.”
30
ROSE
“Getyourself set up over there.”AuntJenpoints to the table in the corner, between the display of antique coffee grinders and the swag of the heavy purple velvet curtain pulled back from the front window ofCatastropheCoffee.
Herdaily routine has been easy to slip into this last week.Shegets up and putters around outside, tends to the yard, the vegetable patch, and checks the water level in the toilet-flushing rain barrel.Imake breakfast, we chat about what we might have for lunch and dinner, then we head into town for coffee and the day’s supplies.
Stayinghere is a bit like being on a retreat.Ithas fresh air, organic food, and shitty internet.
Andthat’s whyI’vebrought my laptop to the coffee shop today.Ineed to pay my tuition before the deadline in a couple of days, andIcan’t risk the connection dropping out and my payment getting stuck in the ether.
“I’llbring your coffee over onceJanicehas shown me the photos of her trip toNepal.”JaniceownsCatastropheCoffeeand is the person who tipped offAuntJenabout the photos ofConnorand me inAGoodLook.
Giventhey haven’t seen each other for two weeks, this is likely the highlight ofAuntJen’sday.
We’reearly, so it’s nice and quiet.Theonly other person here isJanice’steenage son,Mikey, who’s hunched over his laptop, headphones clamped on.He’sbeen sitting in the back corner every time we’ve come in.He’snever once said a word nor taken off his headphones.
Idust crumbs off the tapestry fabric armchair, set my laptop on the table, and connect to theWi-Fi.Oh, the glorious pleasure of a web page loading in less than three minutes.
Ilog in to my school tuition account.
Hmm.
That’sweird.
Theremust be some sort of glitch.
Itsays my fees have already been paid for the upcoming semester.Thatmakes no sense at all.Damn.NowIhave to go through the ordeal of calling the finance office to sort it out.
Ifmy coffee wasn’t already going to be cold beforeAuntJenhas finished looking at the vacation photos, it definitely will be before the finance office picks up.
Theautomated voice thanks me for calling.Mightas well start my apartment search while the robot lady tells me my options andI’mstuck forGodknows how long listening to their dreadful saxophone on-hold music.
I’venever had a materialistic bone in my body, but myGod, the relief that came with the final payment fromBigBrainToyshitting my account and giving me enough cash to pay for tuition and accommodation is a relief like no other.
“Hello?” says the voice in my ear. “Hello?”
Shit,Iguess she wasn’t a recorded message.She’sjust a very robotic human.
“Hi, sorry.Yes.There’sa mistake on my tuition account.ItsaysI’vepaid whenIhaven’t.”
“Huh.That’sa first.”Nowshe sounds like a bad-tempered robot.
Igive her my account details, and shehmms quizzically a few times as she checks it out. “Thisis all very irregular.”
“Yes.Canyou help me figure it out soIcan pay for next semester?”
“It’spaid.”
Great,Iguess this is going to be one of those conversations whereIhave to explain the problem twelve times, in twelve different ways, before anyone grasps it. “Itmust be an error.Ihaven’t paid yet.Couldsomeone please fix it?”
“Nothingto fix,” she says, likeI’mstruggling to comprehend the simplest of concepts. “Yourbalance is zero.”
Itry to keep a lid on my frustration.Losingmy temper will only make this take even longer. “Yes,Iunderstand it says zero.WhatI’msaying is, that’s a mistake.Itshouldn’t be zero.”
“Oh,Iknow.”Shelets out a pissed off sigh. “It’sbeen paid by someone who is not an authorized payer.Andthat’s not allowed.”
