Chapter 5
AURORA
“I’m sorry, I’m confused.” India’s voice is blank, blunt, and the furrow in her brow mirrors my own.
The three of us are seated around our kitchen table, all eyes on the letter from the collections agency. It looks deceptively normal sitting there in the middle, plain folded paper that could be a grocery list or a journal entry.
But there’s a vague screaming noise in my head that I haven’t been able to banish yet, one that’s going to drive me quickly insane.
“You cosigned a loan with your ex?” India goes on as that line in her forehead deepens.
“I remember Tyler,” Juliet says thoughtfully. “Vaguely. A long time ago, right? Him and Barf are the only ones I can think of.”
“They’re the only ones that exist,” I say with a sigh.
“Why did you cosign with someone you were dating?” India says.
“It was our small business loan,” I say, resisting the urge to bang my head against the table. “For our cleaning and organization business.”
“Why would you even need a loan for something like that?” Juliet says. “You put things in order and scrubbed windows.”
I groan. “We had a van and all of our supplies. A pressure washer. A Rug Doctor. Stuff like that. We took the loan out under Tyler’s name, so I—I—”
“You cosigned,” India says dully.
Juliet reaches for the letter and holds it up, reading silently. “So…what, he’s not paying anymore? He defaulted?”
The internal screaming grows louder, and it seems directly proportional to the level of panic I’m experiencing.
“He wanted to end the business. He wanted to break up and shut things down,” I say. “So he offered to pay it off.”
But the remaining balance is on me now, too. And I don’t have enough to pay it. Even with all of my savings—I could get close, but I wouldn’t be able to pay it off completely.
I’m going to have to set up a payment plan.
My heart sinks miserably, a knot forming in the back of my throat at the thought that all that scrimping and budgeting was for nothing. Nothing but Tyler and a failed business—a business I loved, but one that died nonetheless.
“This is bad, Aurora,” Juliet says, and her voice is unusually grim. “Asset seizure. And your credit will probably tank, too—ow!” Jules glares at India, who has just elbowed her in the ribs. “I’m just saying.”
“Say it later.”
Jules pushes her lower lip out into a pout but remains silent, for which I’m infinitely grateful. Right now I need to think, and plan, and silently freak out. I can figure something out; I just need to be alone.
“I need some space,” I say faintly to my sisters, who both give reluctant nods. I feel like I’m in a trance as I get up from the kitchen table, picking up the letter and then wandering like a zombie to the water heater closet where we keep the cleaning supplies.
“The glass cleaner is already upstairs,” Juliet says in a small voice, and I nod.
But India clears her throat. “Don’t you have to go to work?”
My steps shuffle to a halt as the words pierce the haze in my mind. “Of course. Work.”
Snap out of it, Aurora, I tell myself. Right now you need to function.
So I take a deep breath, the deepest I can manage, until my lungs protest that they can’t fill anymore.
Then I let the air out slowly and head to the bathroom, where I splash cold water on my face.
It requires me to dab at my eye makeup a bit, but it’s worth it for the cold shock to my system that reboots me.
“Right,” I say as I look at myself in the mirror. “Be professional. Get through the things you need to do today. Freak out and track down Tyler once you’re off the clock.”
Good. I can do that. I can definitely do that.
Even as I leave the bathroom and gather my things, however, my mind won’t stop working; it’s planning and plotting without me, working several steps ahead to figure out the best way forward.
I need to get in touch with Tyler, obviously, and figure out what’s going on.
I need to get a payment plan set up. And then…
My insides sink and my heart falters, but I keep my head high. I nod at a concerned-looking India and Juliet as I cross the kitchen to the laundry room and the garage entrance.
“Your toast,” Juliet calls, but the unconvincing tone in her voice makes it clear she knows I’m not hungry anymore.
I wave her words away. “I’ll get something later if I need it.”
“Wait!” she replies. “Wait.” She and India both scurry out of their chairs and swarm me, so in time you’d think they planned it, until they’ve wrapped their arms around me.
“We’ll figure something out,” Indy says into my neck, and on the other side of me, Jules nods.
“I have some clothes I could sell,” she says. “And some shoes. They look more expensive than they are, but any little bit helps, right?”
A beat of silence later, India adds, “I could get some decent money for Betsy, too. She’s older, but not too old for a motorcycle.”
It’s this that does it, because India adores her motorcycle; the tears I’ve been keeping sternly at bay burst out of me in one strangled, frustrated sob. I pull them back in with a tired laugh at the sound, squeezing my sisters as tightly as I possibly can.
“You don’t need to sell anything,” I tell them, holding them close. India’s face is squished into my shoulder, and Juliet’s tears are on my neck, but I keep my arms around them anyway. “I have enough to manage a payment plan.”
“Do you?” Juliet says, wriggling out of my grasp. I let my arms drop and nod at her surprised expression.
“I do,” I say. “I have enough.”
“Please tell us if you need help,” India says, and although her voice is gentle, her eyes are serious.
“I will,” I promise. “I really will,” I add when she gives me a skeptical look; possibly because I rarely shed tears. “But I have to go to work and act like everything is fine, so let me go, okay?”
“Boo,” Juliet says, but she steps back again, a few tears still on her cheeks. “While you’re there, please contemplate one last midnight egg adventure—”
“No more egg adventures,” I say, even though in the past I’ve been as on board as anyone.
I have changed my ways. Time in a holding cell will do that to you.
“All right, I need to go.” Incredibly, my heart feels lighter than it has since opening that stupid letter. “I’ll be fine, and I’ll figure something out after work, okay?”
“We will figure something out after work,” India corrects me, pinning me with a stern look and folding her arms as she leans back against the kitchen counter.
I swallow. “We will figure something out.”
“I bet Cyrus could beat Tyler up pretty good if you don’t want to do the eggs—”
“Stop it, Jules,” I say with a snort of laughter. She’s only half joking. “I’m leaving. Don’t forget to eat breakfast!” I add as I hurry toward the door.
Gaining the peace and quiet of my car is a welcome relief, so that I can think things through and let my emotions settle. Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long for me to come to one inevitable conclusion:
I’m going to need another job. If I can swing it, that is. It’s not ideal, but I’d be willing, and I don’t want to wait years and years to build my savings slowly up again.
I need more work. And for that, I need…
“Ugh,” I say. “I need to talk to Denice about my noncompete.”
Because I’m pretty sure it’s down in my contract that my job at Soul2Soul is the only job I’m allowed to have. If I could even pick up a dumb weekend job it would be better than nothing.
An image of myself in an apron flits into my mind, of me leaning out a drive-thru window and passing greasy bags to customers. A hairnet is my new accessory of choice. The scent of french fries is my new perfume.
I want to gag.
“I have options,” I say to myself, holding firmly to the steering wheel as though it will somehow ground me.
“I will have plenty of options, and I will do what needs to be done, and that is that. If I want to save over a longer period of time, I can do that. If I want to get another job, I can do that too. It will be fine.”
See? Options. Lots of them.
Or maybe a few.
Or…just two.
“Two is fine,” I breathe.
I’m surprisingly normal at work. I’m cordial to Bart and Mindy when we meet up for a few minutes so we can discuss our trip to Lucky tomorrow.
And I tell myself it’s because they’re not worth my time or energy, but a little voice in my mind insists I’m afraid to show that I’m hurt.
Emotions have no place at work, but more than that, emotions create vulnerability.
If there’s anyone who I can’t trust with the deepest parts of me, it’s Bart.
So he and Mindy get brief head nods and flat but polite words as we discuss the marketing budget for our upcoming event.
My hands don’t shake as I get in touch with our usual vendors and look things up and fill out forms. I don’t sneak off to wipe down random counters.
I am a queen of normality.
Of course, my sisters would say it’s unhealthy, the way I put my feelings away. But it’s not like I have any other choice. They affect the way I function, which means they need to go.
It’s only at the very end of the day that the weight of my situation begins to wear on me. I’m more tired than usual even though my work load has been the same, and I’m irritable too. So when it’s time to visit the boss before I clock out, I take a few extra minutes to prepare.
Inhale and exhale. Cordon off the panic that’s trying to re-emerge in my sternum, trying to claw free from the cage I’ve put it in. Remind myself that everything is fixable.
Then I stride down the hall to the makeshift office Roman Drake has set up.