Ten Years Ago
Garrett zones out. He’s supposed to be updating his files in the system, but he’s distracted by the snow falling outside. Or maybe it’s something else entirely. His phone vibrates against his newly assembled IKEA desk.
“How’s Minnesota?” his mom asks.
“Cold. It’s snowing.”
“I don’t know about you being up there for the winter. Are you sure you have warm enough clothes?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“And the right stuff for your car?”
“I think so.” He stands from his desk to pace around the room. The furniture still surprises him, even after a few weeks. He had gotten used to a mostly empty apartment with a mattress on the floor.
“It’s seventy degrees here today.”
“Did you call to rub that in my face?”
She laughs. “No, I did have a reason for calling. Your dad got a weird email—”
“I already told him he shouldn’t open a message if he doesn’t know who sent it.”
“No, it’s not that. It was a receipt for making a payment on one of the loans from your brother’s treatment. But he didn’t make the payment! Someone else did.”
“What do you mean?” He moved to look out the living room window, to feel the cold through the windowpane.
“We don’t know. All he can find out is that it came from a PayPal account. I hope someone didn’t make a mistake. It was a big payment. Ten thousand dollars.”
“Well, if it was a mistake, I think they would have realized that the payment didn’t make it to their account. Maybe it was someone from the church.”
“Who at church would have that kind of money? Or know what PayPal is? I wouldn’t know how to do something like that.”
“I don’t know, Mom, but I wouldn’t worry about it too much. It sounds like someone’s trying to do a nice thing.” He rests his head against the window.
“That’s what your sister said.”
“Don’t tell her I agreed with her.”
His mom laughs. “I won’t hold you up. I know you’re working. I just had to tell you that.”
“Yeah, I have to go. I’ll call you later.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Garrett exhales, tossing his phone onto the couch. He grabs his wallet from his back pocket and takes out a folded piece of paper with his parents’ names at the top. Ten thousand dollars wouldn’t make much of a dent, but he would keep trying, no matter where he had to move.