Chapter Five. Indebted
Chapter Five
INDEBTED
Lunch was eaten on the deck, each bite improved by the proximity to the water. When the meal was finished, Danny introduced Cam to the rest of the staff—a few more servers, the folks in the kitchen, and in the early evening, Hank, another bartender on rotation who was much nicer than Esme.
Along with the personnel changes came a nighttime transition. Once the sun went down, Beau’s turned from beachy, relaxed fun to summer revelry. The kitchen closed at nine, the volume skyrocketed, and Danny said the party lasted until they shut down at midnight.
While under normal circumstances, Cam would’ve gladly stayed to enjoy the nighttime festivities, they left around nine-thirty, both sleep-deprived from the previous evening. They followed the familiar trail along the rocky roadway, only the moon and the stars illuminating the path at the late hour.
“I hope you had a good day,” he said, breaking their comfortable silence.
“I did. I could spend an hour raving about the food and the service, but I can’t stop thinking about the views. Who could possibly beat those views?”
That easygoing smile returned, glowing as brightly as the stars. “According to our 4.7-star rating, nobody.”
“Hmm. But that’s not a perfect five stars, is it?”
“Nobody’s perfect, Cam. Especially when I gotta kick out drunks, tell Esme to play nice, and remind the retirees calamari is squid.”
“Does that happen often?”
His laugh joined the chirping crickets and gusts of breeze like a musical accompaniment. “Of course. People don’t read, people don’t think, and while we like to see the best in everyone, the fact is, a lot of people are stupid.”
“Danny!” she cried, laughing. “You used to be the number-one advocate for the less academically gifted. Mr. C’s-get-degrees.”
“And I still am!” he defended. “But feelings change when you have customers demanding refunds because their Cobb salads have egg in them, or their Long Island iced teas don’t have any iced tea.”
“Don’t Cobb salads always have hard-boiled eggs?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And Long Island iced teas are called that because of the color, right?”
“Yup.”
“You’re a miracle worker to keep it cool and collected,” she said. “I snapped so hard I got myself arrested.”
Danny shrugged, never willing to take credit for any of his achievements.
“It’s part of the job.” When they neared a rocky overlook, he pointed to the water, glittering beneath the moonlight.
“Look at this. Can’t you imagine spending the summer here, writing with this around you?
You said it yourself. Who could possibly beat those views? ”
Glancing between him and the incoming waves, she swallowed. “Danny … I don’t know. I can’t put my life on hold.”
“Isn’t it already on hold?”
She opened her mouth to refute, but … he was right. When she remained quiet, he added, “What’s preventing you from staying?”
“I’m having money problems.” It might’ve been the first time she admitted the truth aloud, at least without the use of dark humor as a coping mechanism. “And by money problems, I mean the crippling debt kind. From student loans and credit cards.”
Danny watched her, eyebrows furrowed, like he didn’t understand. Maybe he didn’t. His family wasn’t rich, but they were better off than hers. And with the help of his unmarried, childless uncle Beau, his parents were able to cover all four years of school for him.
“Student loans? I thought you got grants,” he replied. “I thought your financial aid package covered most of tuition.”
“No. Financial aid made going to Adams nearly the same cost as staying in-state. But it was still a big number. My parents couldn’t afford it, so they cosigned loans for me. And every year, tuition is raised, and since the school knows you’re not going anywhere, they trim your aid package.”
Feeling unsteady on her feet, she let her eyes flutter shut. She never talked about the weight of her student debt, because even thinking about it made her nauseous.
“My parents helped how they could,” she continued. “They paid for my food, my textbooks, our spring break trip to Tulum. But I had to take out loans to cover everything else. Tuition, fees, housing, the expensive stuff.”
He frowned. “So … it’s a lot then?”
Her laugh wasn’t the cute, nervous kind, instead sounding more like a movie villain cackling through their bad guy speech.
“Yes, it’s a lot. Principal hit six figures and with interest…
” She shuddered. “I refinanced my private loans when I graduated, but I’m still supposed to be paying more than a thousand dollars a month.
My rent and my monthly payment were eighty percent of my income.
This doesn’t even include my federal loans, which they discreetly slip into your aid package and make you think you’re getting grant money when you’re not.
I’ll keep deferring those until they tell me I can’t. ”
“Eighty percent?” he repeated. “I guess that’s where the credit cards came in.”
“Yeah.” She studied the moon, preferring its white glow over the shame she felt when she met Danny’s concerned eyes.
“Student debt is so widespread that it’s almost …
acceptable. But with credit card debt, everyone looks at you like you’re crazy and irresponsible.
And yeah, maybe I am crazy and irresponsible.
But maybe I was living outside my means because I had to.
Maybe I was buying things because I thought it would make me happy.
I’m just … tired. Everything is so expensive.
It all adds up and … I felt like I had no choice.
I swiped and I swiped and I swiped. And now, I’m in a hole, and I’m trapped.
I don’t know what to do. I’m barely staying on top of my minimum payments, and nothing’s helping to shrink the number. ”
“Cam…” He took her hand and squeezed it.
“You’re not alone. I know this is fucking hard and overwhelming, but you’re gonna get through this.
You’re strong. You’re smart. And I’m sorry the system is so fucked up that this is even a problem to begin with, but …
I’m here to help how I can. Listening, loaning money, whatever. I’m here for you.”
His words soothed her buzzing nerves, and she leaned into him, dropping her head to his shoulder in a sudden bout of exhaustion.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Our finance professor always said debt was borrowing money from your future self. It was really comforting at twenty. Now, I wonder if future me can handle the mess younger me has created.”
“There’s no hole too steep to climb out of.”
“Your optimism blinds you sometimes, Danny.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “I would rather be blinded by the sun in my eyes than unable to see in the dark.”
A cool breeze weaved between them, and when she shivered, he shrugged out of the denim shirt he wore over his Beau’s gear. He slipped it over her shoulders, and together, they watched the water.
“Do you remember when we met?” he asked.
“Our microecon lecture. First week of classes, fall semester freshman year. We both had those shit seats in the back row of Tudor.”
Danny gave her a tight smile, shaking his head. “Nah. That wasn’t our first meeting.”
“It … wasn’t?” She racked her brain for a previous introduction, but nothing came to mind.
“No. We met the day before,” he explained. “I was trying to find my psych lab and ended up in the wrong building. I saw you sitting in this window enclave, writing away in a notebook.”
She knew exactly what space he referred to.
Tucked into the back corner of Pearce Hall’s third floor was a collection of bay windows overlooking the campus quad, each fitted with cushioned benches.
The seats received the warmest, most golden sunlight, and the minute Cam discovered the area, she knew it would forever be her favorite place on campus.
“You noticed me,” he continued, “laughed, and said: Let me guess. You’re looking for the psych lab in 315? and when I asked how you knew, you told me I was the fourth confused student to wander past you in ten minutes.”
Like she was hit by a lightning bolt, she recalled the afternoon. A TA’s incorrect email, ten confused students looking for a classroom that didn’t exist, and a handsome boy with a skateboard tucked under his arm, wearing a pair of well-loved Chucks.
Danny had done away with the skateboard after a sprained wrist in November of that first semester, but Cam always had fond memories of his brief double life as a skater boy.
“Oh my god. I completely forgot about that.”
“Do you remember what else happened?” When she shook her head, he said, “I saw your notebook, so I joked about you doing homework during syllabus week. You smiled at me and said it wasn’t homework. You were, and I quote, writing the next Great American Novel.”
“Oh.”
It felt like a lifetime ago, when her dreams for her future centered around writing stories and breathing life into characters she created.
Because she only wrote during her free time for her first year of college.
And she did the whole shebang—short story contests, creative writing classes, poems for esoteric club zines, even dipping her toes back into fanfiction.
But she got tired. Tired of trying to figure out how her dreams fit into a prepackaged future. Tired of fighting the inevitable path towards a generic job in a generic industry that would barely pay off the student loans that allowed her to get said generic job in the first place.
Writing went from escapist, romantic fun, to a reminder of what couldn’t be.
“That Milly told a stranger she was working on a masterpiece.” Danny rubbed his eyes, and for the first time since their reunion, she noticed the darkened circles beneath them.
“I know life can get really fucking hard sometimes. It sucks. But when you least expect it, an opportunity drops in your lap and redirects you. You’re unhappy, Cam.
You’ve got money problems, you’ve got nowhere to go.
So don’t go anywhere. Stay here. You won’t have to worry about rent or any of your usual bills.
Hell, you can work at Beau’s, put all that money towards your payments, and write on the beach the rest of the time. ”
She bit her lip, alternating her focus between his pleading eyes and the moonlight rippling across the water. “I want to. I really do. But … I’ll feel so guilty if I stay. Not just because I’d impose on you, but because I’d be stationary. I’ve never not … climbed.”
“Consider this a sabbatical. Spend the summer here. Relax, write, figure your shit out. And then you can go off and keep climbing, okay?”
She nodded, still fascinated by his casual approach to everything. That he could suggest she spend months in an unfamiliar place, writing with her feet in the sand. That it was totally normal to make a life-altering decision after an afternoon in a new town.
The version of Cam who was writing her Great American Novel would’ve broken out in hives at the diversion from the well-traveled path.
But this version of Cam didn’t have anything to lose.
“Okay. I’ll stay.”
He whooped, pulling her into his arms and jostling her from side to side as they hugged. “I’m so happy. This summer is gonna be fucking fantastic. I promise.”
“I can’t wait. Except now I need to figure out how to make my meager savings stretch for the summer.”
He pulled away, keeping his hands on her shoulders. “I can loan you money—” At her pointed glare, he laughed, switching tactics. “Right. Okay. Like I said, work at Beau’s. We always need the extra hands in the summer.”
“Really? You’d let me work there?”
“Why not? You’re smart. Charming. Wicked pretty. You’ll fit right in and rake in the tips.”
“I like it when you call me pretty,” she teased, batting her eyelashes.
Even in the moonlight, his blush was hard to miss. “Yeah, okay. Someone’s letting a compliment get to her head.”
She shoved him gently, smiling. “If you’re hiring, I’m accepting.”
“Good.” He nodded to the road. “Let’s get home. We can start training tomorrow. We’re closed Mondays, so if all goes well, you can start Tuesday.”
“Wow.” She raced after his long-legged strides. “That’s so fast!”
He grinned over his shoulder. “I thought you wanted to climb. To make money.” When she groaned, he laughed and added, “Welcome to Elswick, Cam.”