Page 122 of Enzo

“What?”

“I forgot to pay my electricity … again.”

“You don’t have it on auto pay?”

She makes a face. “It hit once before payday and resulted in a returned payment and a fee, so I switched it off. I pay manually now because I need to know I have enough to make the payment.”

Have enough to make the payment.

I’ve never had to worry about things like that. I don’t even know what that uncertainty would feel like, and a twinge of guilt catches me at the thought of my privilege.

“What happens if you don’t have enough funds?”

“I somehow manage to get them. I usually know when I’ll have a shortfall, but with the Venice trip and everything, it skipped my mind.”

“I see.”

“I need to go through my figures for this month then make payment.”

I can’t wrap my head around this. I have several auto-pay methods, including a backup should the first fail. My finances are in order. My financial life runs like on autopilot. I’ve never worried about money.

Yet, even though Molly has to juggle to make rent sometimes, she’s careful. She lives without a safety net but she’s happier than I am.

“What?” she asks, when she catches me watching her.

“You seem ... very relaxed.”

“About electricity?”

“About life in general. You constantly have lots things going.” I nod at her phone. “A million tabs open.”

“It’s not a million.”

“Not yet.”

“This is nothing.” She waves at her phone dismissively. “You should see my computer.”

“I couldn’t cope.”

She laughs. “You’re very funny.”

“And you … are something else.” I wave at her. “You’re always in motion. Like remembering your utility bill while trying to find something on your phone.”

Her eyes widen. “Do people not do that?”

“Until you, I’d never met anyone who did. You’re one of a kind.”

She peers at me.

“You don’t seem to be the slightest bit overwhelmed. In fact, you seem to invite it, and relish it.”

“Overwhelm?” she asks, like it’s a foreign word. And maybe it is to her. She seems to consider my words. “That’s because I know things always work out.”

She says it with such conviction, like it’s a fact. A law of the land. As instinctive as breathing. I don’t have that kind of conviction. In my experience things don’t always work out.

She stops scrolling and sets her phone back on the table. “I can’t find it. I give up.”

“Never had you for giving up.”