His Last Name

Damien had been lying in the bed lifeless for weeks. My once handsome, clean-shaven, ripped husband had turned into an average looking, scruffy-bearded, unkempt man. As each day passed, I was becoming more aggravated and disgusted by him.

He barely got up to go to the bathroom and would hardly eat. When he was up, he was staring at the ceiling or at the television. I wanted to not care, to give up and hide away from the world in the house, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I was being suffocated by his depression. Being crazy wasn’t an option. There had to be one sane person in this marriage. Somebody had to get up and make some money. I came to the realization that I had to get a job and feed us.

He filed for bankruptcy, and we had to move out in six weeks, by August 15. I began packing, but I didn’t know where we’d be moving to. That’s one of the things that frustrated me about Damien. He kept me in the dark about everything, and that’s why we were in the predicament we were in.

I couldn’t live like that anymore, so I applied for a few positions at various companies and even some temp agencies. I worked at an agency when I was in college, so I knew that their hiring process was fast and I would get paid quickly. I used my maiden name on my résumé. Damien’s name was plastered everywhere, and I didn’t want anyone to know I was his wife.

I got a call back from an insurance company, and I was on my way to interview with the company. “I’m going out. There’s some soup and crackers on the table if you want it. I’ll be back after my interview.” I stopped and came back. I felt like I had to say something reassuring to him. “When I get back, you better be up.”

The interview went well; I was hired on the spot. I thought I would go right into management or something, but I didn’t have any experience anywhere doing anything, so the only position that I was qualified for was entry level, which meant I would be answering telephones and informing people of their benefit options. I would make two dollars more than the people who didn’t have a degree. Which didn’t make any sense, but it was what it was.

I dialed my mother, and my stepfather, Wilson, answered the telephone. “May I speak to my mother, please?”

“Your mother is out in the garden. Do you want me to get her?”

“What is she doing in the garden?”

“Telling the gardener what to do, of course.” He laughed, and I gave a fake laugh. I was used to his dry humor.

“Yes, I really need to speak to her. She is not answering her cell phone.” He called out for her and then she came to the phone.

“Tiffany, what is it? Is everything okay? I see I’ve missed your calls.”

“Yes. Mom, have you seen my degree?”

“No, I haven’t. I think it may be upstairs in your room. I’ll look for it. What do you need it for?”

“I got a job and they need a copy of it.”

“A job? Oh my,” she gasped.

“I’m working for an insurance company. I’m going to finally put my business degree to use.”

“I’ll look for it and if I see it, I can overnight it. But this is insanity. It is embarrassing enough for me to have my friends call me and say that my daughter is on the news with her broke DUI husband, but now you are working at an insurance company? So I suppose you’re trying to take care of him now?”

“No. He’s looking for a job.”

“Enough is enough, Tiffany. I raised you better than this. I will not have my daughter stuck in a dead-end job for the rest of her life and taking care of a no-good man. You showed your support for long enough. It’s time for you to leave him.” The tone of the conversation was harsh—even for my mother.

“I can’t just leave him. He’s my husband and I love him.”

“Love doesn’t pay the bills. Get off of that train, Tiffany, because it is about to crash.”

“Mom, we are going to be okay. Damien has a plan.”

“You are not going to sit here and waste your life with him. You are getting a divorce.”

“Mom, I can’t believe you. How could you say something like that? He bought the car you are driving and has sent you on plenty of vacations. And now—just because he is down and out—I’m supposed to leave him.”

“You would if you were smart. Do you need any money?”

“No, we will be fine. Everything is going to work out.”

“I sure hope so.”