c7

The fact was, looking at the numbers, he couldn't figure out how she'd managed. He thought he better ask her about that "system" of hers, because when he looked at the due dates on the bills and the income, it seemed impossible. No wonder she was completely out of her mind—it just didn't work. If that wasn't bad enough, there were late fees all over the place—bills she just couldn't pay on time.
It was the right thing to do, getting this off her plate. But it didn't help his mood. When he took on the finances, he took on her worry. It left him quiet and depressed. She kept asking him if everything was all right and he told her his brain was reeling with numbers. He wanted to tell her he finally understood why she wanted to smack him for being so goddamn happy all the time. The truth was, he felt the urge to break down in a bone-deep cry.
The captain of their unit, Eric Sorenson, kept passing by him at the firehouse, glancing at his paperwork, asking him how he was doing. Eric was a good guy, a real happy man with a strong, serious side. He was well respected even though he wasn't exactly like the rest of them. He was religious—Mormon fellow—maybe a little straightlaced. He didn't seem uptight and had an awesome sense of humor, though it never verged into the off-color like the rest of the crew. He rarely joined them for a beer, and if he did, he had a cola. But as leaders went, he was sharp and loyal; he really went to the wall for his men.
After a couple of weeks of keeping his polite distance, he pulled out a chair opposite Billy and said, "You got something serious going on there, bud. Any way I can help with that?"
Billy cracked a smile. "You could give me a raise."
Eric just nodded at the stack of paperwork. It was common for the guys to bring their bills to work, use the computer to pay online. "Household expenses?" he asked.
"You're a genius," Billy said, keeping his smile in place. "I always said that…"
"You been at it a long time now. Must not be making much sense if you're still adding and subtracting."
"Well," Billy said. "To tell you the truth, Captain, I just took it over from Jules. She had that miscarriage, you know. She's been all stressed out about the bills, so I took it on—and it's a wreck. I want to figure it out before I take it back to her and ask her a lot of questions about how she did things." He took a breath. "I shouldn't have let her worry about this so long…."
"Yeah, I had almost the same thing happen," Eric said. "I sure get that."
"You did?" Billy asked.
"Oh, sure." Then he grinned. "Five kids."
"Well, I knew that, but…"
"But you thought it was only tough for you, coming on the department with a growing family in place?" He smiled. "Think you could use a hand there?" he asked, nodding at the paperwork.
"Ah, that's real nice, but…" He gathered up his papers and pulled them toward him, protectively. No way he wanted his captain to know how deep he was in, how much he owed, how desperate it was.
"But you're worried about me seeing the bills?" He laughed pleasantly. "Five kids," he repeated. "I had three when I started at F.D. You think I don't know about this?" Then he leaned close. "You think I can't keep quiet about your personal business?"
"It's not that, it's just—"
"It's that," Eric said. "Plus, you're afraid if I get a look at it, I'll fire you or put you on light duty till you dig out of your mess and are stress-free on the job? Gimme a break, huh? I actually know something about this. It's a shot in the dark, but I might be able to help. I'm good with big families, big bills." Then he sat back and put up his hands, palms toward Billy. "Hey, no pressure. I understand if you want to soldier on. I felt that way myself. I thought I'd offer…."
"You felt that way?"
"Let's see—I was behind in a half dozen mortgage payments, the lights were flickering and I was holding the car together with duct tape and bailing wire. Um, it was one car, not two," he laughed. Then he sobered and said, "Plus, my wife was in tears half the time. That's the part that almost put me in the nuthouse."
"What did you do?"
He chuckled. "Well, we were on our knees a lot—prayer is very big at our house. We tried to make it on faith. I figured if I was humble and earnest enough, I'd find a few grand lying on the sidewalk. Stranger things have happened, right? Then my bishop said, ‘Eric, I'm sure God will be more than happy to steer, if you'll pedal.' He told me I needed professional help, and I'd better not waste a lot of time. So I went to one of those free credit counselors, got a little advice. Then I checked in with a guy from my church who does taxes part-time, a CPA, just to see if he thought the advice was any good. I wasn't too big on trust back then."
Almost lying across the paperwork to keep it secret, Billy asked, "What kind of advice?"
"It's pretty individual, but in my case, we had to renegotiate some loans, put together a payment schedule that fit the paycheck instead of trying to stretch the paycheck over their schedule, and I had to start paying the family first. My greatest asset had to be protected before I could move on. Then I had to face a long-term plan that, in the beginning, looked to me like there was no end in sight. And I had to take some aggressive action—everything plastic that got near me or my wife had to be cut up."
Billy sat back and put the end of the pen against his lips. "Too bad you couldn't come up with some new ideas, Captain. I already tried all that. There's no way I can get another debt consolidation note and I'd love to cut up the plastic, believe me, but sometimes that's all there is."
"Oh, you just don't know how creative these credit counselors can get," he laughed. "Come on, bring your stuff to my office." He stood. "First, how about a wager? Ten bucks says I was in worse shape than you."
Billy just sat there, reluctant to share this disaster with anyone. "You? Making a bet?"
"Nah. I figure it's a sure thing." He turned and walked to his office.
Still, Billy sat. This was the only thing he'd really feared when he bundled up the bills and carried them out of the house—that someone would see. Judge him harder than he'd already judged himself. He felt a huff of laughter escape as he asked himself how that was possible. He felt as if he'd driven Jules to risk miscarriage because she was just so goddamn scared.
His palms actually sweating, he shoved everything in the folder and followed his boss. He stood in front of his desk, the folder tucked protectively under his arm, and looked down at his captain. "You're gonna be sorry."
"I love a challenge," he said.
Billy pulled a yellow pad out of his file folder and presented it with no small amount of trepidation. "This should sum it up," he said. "I got a family of five living on a net income of right around fifty-five hundred a month, working two jobs. The mortgage alone, without the second and equity line, is fifteen hundred."
Eric put on his reading glasses and began to scan. Mortgage, second mortgage, equity line of credit, old college loans—two of them—utilities, insurance, two Visas and a MasterCard, then a long list of miscellaneous expenses ranging from Jeffy's soccer and baseball fees to doctor's co-pays. "These all the minimums?" the captain asked.
"Yup."
"No car payments—good for you!"
"Right. And absolutely no ability to finance a car…."
"Okay, fish me out a couple of credit-card statements, one of each. Any month will do—it doesn't have to be the most recent."
Billy sat down, the file on his lap, and produced three statements, handing them over. Billy expected the captain to gasp and grab his chest, but he just took a quick glance at each and scribbled something on the yellow pad.
"How about a mortgage statement?" he said. "And maybe that second and equity line…."
Again he complied, again the quick scribbles. Then Eric did some fast calculating and looked up. "Well, holy smokes, we might be at a tie here," he said with a short laugh. "Except I had you beat. At least I put food, clothing and tithing on my list. It made the bottom line look a whole lot worse."