“More people to help you, honey,” she clarified, her eyes twinkling with determination. “You can’t do the stuff you just told me about all on your own. You need support from friends,neighbors, in addition to professionals to fix every problem in this here house.”
I sighed, feeling both grateful for Miss Mary’s advice and overwhelmed by the thought of finding help. “I don’t even know where to start,” I admitted, my hands wringing together anxiously.
“Start by asking around,” Miss Mary suggested, her voice warm and encouraging. “Talk to people at church, at the grocery store, or even down at the community center. There are plenty of folks in this town who would be willing to lend a hand if they knew you needed it.”
“But would they really?” I asked, doubt creeping into my voice. “I’m not exactly…well known around here.”
“Joyce, that doesn’t matter,” Miss Mary insisted, placing a comforting hand on my arm. “What matters is that you’re in need, and people will step up when it counts if you ask.”
Her words resonated deep within me. I knew she was right. I had to put aside my pride and ask for help if I wanted to keep my home and prove myself as an independent woman.
“All right,” I agreed, nodding determinedly. “I’ll start asking the few people I do know. And thank you, Miss Mary, for the advice.”
“Child, independence is overrated. We all need each other sometimes,” she replied with a knowing smile. “Now, you’d best get moving. Three weeks will be here before you know it, and you’ve got plenty of work to do.”
Chapter 21
It was past time for me do the math and make some hard decisions. My prized nest egg was getting all scrambled up, and I only had thirteen more business days to get myself together before Anya Day. Thirteen days to prove myself safe and sane, to get the stamp that would allow me to stay in my home, without state supervision.
I’d wasted time moping and feeling sorry for myself. I justified that “waste” with the fact that Anya couldn’t count July 4 as a business day.
Take that, APS.
Somewhere in there, Eric Jr. called to ask how things were going for me in Robin Creek. I told him everything, which felt surprisingly good. But he’s no Dr. Phil. “Don’t worry, Momma. If you have to move in with me, I gotcha.”
No big speech, just a simple last-resort solution. “Thanks, son.”
I had no intention of moving overseas, however. I needed to exhaust all domestic options first.
My first move, which broke my heart, was to exchange Celestia for a much less expensive model. About half the cost of Celestia, to be exact. Gabriella and Elijah understood that sacrifices hadto be made because the cost of having a certified electrician with experience in older homes to travel from Lubbock to Robin Creek and rewire the north side of the house was gonna be twice the cost of Celestia. I knew this already from my conversation with the remodeling company. If I hadn’t been a little miffed at them for turning me on to SLAP, I might have asked them for a referral.
Nonetheless, during my Monday-morning work break, I made the call, pushed the numbers to get past the automatic answering system, and talked to a representative at the investment company so I could withdraw funds. I had to audibly reply “Yes” to the notification that this would lower my payments when time came for me to get monthly disbursements.Didn’t need that reminder.
They asked if I was withdrawing funds to pay medical debts or taxes. “No.”
Why all these questions to withdraw my own money?
The transaction was finalized at the end of day, East Coast time, with the close of the stock market. They cut a check the next day and overnighted it to me. I had the money for the repairs in hand by the time I got off work Wednesday.
Standing in my bedroom and holding that five-figure check, I had to be grateful. I whispered my thanks to God because, despite all the hassle and the fact that this withdrawal would probably haunt me until the day I died, I didn’t know what I would have done without the money I’d saved outside of my state pension.
I thought about my coworkers MaryAlice and Faye, who were single mothers barely making it on their teachers’ salary. At one point, MaryAlice qualified for food stamps, and Faye had moved back home with her mother at the ripe age of forty-five to make sure her son could finish college. They had nothing else except their state pension, which was why they hadn’t retired yet even thoughthey were both older than I was. Almost all our friends who’d retired before me complained about how the state teacher-pension plan only increased once every twenty years or so, unlike Social Security, which had a cost-of-living increase. At 3 percent inflation annually, all it takes is about three years until you’re making 10 percent less than your original retirement check—which is only about 70 percent of your last employment check.
“Retirement is a blessing for sure,” MaryAlice had said as they helped me box dry erase boards and markers. “I’m going to try for a promotion to instructional coach soon, get my salary average up higher.”
“Sometimes we have to play the game,” Faye added.
I’d never struggled to make ends meet or pay unexpected bills when I was with Eric. The last time I’d suffered through money problems was in college, when I lived off excess student loan disbursements. I made great friends with the girl who landed the mailroom work-study job. She’d call my dorm hall when she saw a check come for me, and I’d throw on a jogging suit and race to the administration offices, waiting outside the window until she opened that wooden door for me and all the other desperate souls awaiting money from loans, friends, and family.
Of course, I had to pay all that loan money back later, plus interest. But it had been worth it, allowing me to eat a steady diet of ramen noodles in college, and later giving me a career I enjoyed. I tried to frame this significant withdrawal from my retirement fund in the same light: I’d keep my grandmother’s house, eat Gabriella’s good cooking—hot oven broiler and all—and enjoy the rest of my years in peace, knowing my home was safe and sturdy.
The Chapter Chatters met that evening, a fact that made my heart feel nice and toasty. Miss Mary’s words still resonatedthrough me as I found a parking spot in the library’s lot. This town, the people of Robin Creek, had been nothing but good to me. Except Wardell and Lorenzo, but there were always a few bad actors. Gabriella, Richard, and the women in this group had welcomed me sweetly. Hadn’t required anything of me except to show up and be myself, and for that, I appreciated them.
Elijah happily skipped off to his LEGO group, and I entered the main portion of the library looking for Eileen. We usually got a chance to speak before she started the group, but she was nowhere in sight. I entered our usual meeting spot ready to share the proposed dates for our cooking party that I’d told Gabriella about. But immediately, I sensed tension in the room. Partying was the last thing on their minds. The chairs were arranged in their usual circle, but the empty one in the center seemed to loom larger than the rest.
“Eileen’s in the hospital,” Sonia informed me.
The words landed with a force I wasn’t prepared for, like a punch in the gut.
