Lizzy had some good moments in the last week, even some good hours. Hope comes, like photons, in small, discrete packets of light.
She makes manageable goals. Getting rid of clothes. Doing a fifteen-minute workout—she uses an old video. Washing all the sheets and towels. Poking around in her little garden, pulling up weeds. Researching Peru.
Then there are the things she tries to avoid but can’t. Like checking e-mail. Joe forwarded her the message he relayed to parents. It was vague and damning, stating she was on leave for personal reasons. She would rather he had said she had a tooth infection.
Greg has been out of touch. She’s texted, called, e-mailed. He hasn’t replied to anything, not even her suggestion they meet with his therapist. If she manages to go ten minutes without having a conversation with Greg in her head or checking her phone and e-mail, that’s a good run.
It’s ten A.M., Tuesday. Gail and Kathryn have checked in. She expects Bridget to call in the next hour.
Number one on her list today is to clean out the cabinets. In the kitchen, she pulls out cans of soup, spices, and old boxes of spaghetti. The doorbell rings, and she freezes with a jar of Ragu in her hand. She doesn’t have on any makeup, and she’s wearing cotton pajama bottoms and a tank top. She grabs a jacket from the front hallway closet, imagining greeting the police who are coming to tell her they have bad news about Greg.
After one deep breath, she opens the door. Standing in front of her is a middle-aged woman in a pink Lilly Pulitzer dress.
“Hi, my name is Anne Wadely. I represent the Breast Cancer Society.”
Lizzy smiles dumbly, relieved it’s not some do-gooder from school handing her a basket of “cheer,” herbal teas and chocolate chip cookies.
“We’re going door-to-door seeing if we can get people to join in the fight—”
“Of course. Let me get my purse.” Lizzy hurries inside, grabs her bag, and rejoins Anne on the steps.
“We always take donations, but the main reason for my visit is to see if you’d be willing to send out cards to your neighbors, asking them to donate.”
“No, I’d rather just give some money.” She rifles through her wallet. She only has a few dollars. Her life has been so fractured, she can’t remember the last time she went to an ATM.
“I’m sorry,” Lizzy says. “Let me write you a check. Who do I make it out to?”
“Breast Cancer Society. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to send out some cards to your neighbors?”
“No. Not right now.” She hands Anne a check.
“We have just found—”
“No, thank you.” Pink dress or not, this woman needs to stop. Lizzy closes the door and checks her wallet again. It’s time to live with some semblance of normality. She will go to the bank, get some cash, stop at the grocery store, and not hide behind the shades of her home.
It’s important to plow forward. Gail said that about Hannah. Granted it was in a different context, but the message still applies.
Her first stop is the bank. As she waits at the ATM, her nerves are skittish. She doesn’t want to run into anyone she knows.
When it’s her turn, she enters her PIN, then touches the screen to withdraw one hundred dollars. The machine declines her request. She tries again, feeling embarrassed that someone might think she doesn’t have any money. Again, she is denied. Flustered, she grabs her card and walks into the bank.
Over the past few years, she and Greg have saved nearly forty thousand dollars. So it can’t be that there’s no money. In fact, they have an appointment to consult with a financial analyst, someone who will help them invest.
A tall, young Indian man wearing a dark green turban approaches. “Hello, my name is Amrit, may I help you?” He has an American accent, but not East Coast, maybe Californian.
Lizzy shakes his hand. “I don’t know why my card isn’t working.”
He gestures to a desk that is partially partitioned from the main floor. She takes a seat across from him and gives him her card. The keys click and soon he’s studying her account on his computer.
“Ah,” he says. “It is because you have only a maximum cash withdrawal of five hundred dollars a day.”
“But…” She stops, not wanting to discuss her marital problems. “Can I make the limit higher?”
“Of course you may. We only do it to protect you.” He clicks a few more keys. “What would you like your maximum to be?”
“Can I make it anything?”
“Yes, of course.” His words are less languid, less California. A trace of impatience.
She feels ignorant. Her head has been firmly planted in the sand when it comes to money and finances.
“Uh … would it be all right if I took a look?” She is about to stand and walk around so she can see the screen.
Amrit motions for her to stay seated and turns the computer. It takes a moment to understand, but she sees that for the past week Greg has withdrawn five hundred dollars a day.
There’s a few hundred left in the checking account. “Can I see our savings account?”
“If you’d like.” Amrit inputs more information.
There’s only sixteen thousand. “This isn’t the entire balance, is it?” she asks.
He glances at the screen. “Yes, that is the correct amount. Do you have another account with us?”
“No.” At least none that she knows of. “Is there any way to see the deposits and withdrawals?”
“Ma’am, they are all on the screen.”
“Sorry. I’m not used to looking at these.” She can see that all her paychecks are direct-deposited. She can also see that significant sums have been moved to their checking account. She studies the transactions, feeling as if she’s a large, wet snowflake disintegrating as it hits the pavement.
“Ma’am, would you like to increase your withdrawal amount?” Amrit glances to the waiting area.
Lizzy sees there are a few people, but now isn’t the time to be submissive or polite and hurry away like a good girl.
“Can I open a new account?” she asks.
“Of course. You may do anything you like.” He bows his head. “We are here to serve the customer.”
“And can I transfer this money here into the new account?” she asks.
He clicks away, then nods. “Yes, you have the capability to do that. Either account holder can move the money.”
“Okay, then, I’d like to do that.”
“Checking or savings?”
“Can I make it just in my name?”
“Yes, if that is what you would prefer.” He pauses. “Checking or savings?” He doesn’t sound as if he’s trying to serve.
“Checking, please.”
She fills out the paperwork, enters a new PIN number, and leaves the bank wondering how long it will be now before Greg gets in touch.