My mother-in-law is getting evicted and that scares me. —Are you noticing a common theme too? Sheesh, Cha Cha, you really are a scaredy cat. Now I know where Copper Soup gets it from.
I am scared because she may have to move in with us.
I am also scared because I see myself in Joy. (That’s not her real name, but I know she would appreciate this pseudonym.)
I envision myself as an 80 year-old woman. A widow. With no money and no assets. And now, no home. Unlike Joy, I will not have grown children to help me. What will I do then?
“You don’t have to worry about that, Cha Cha,” the Universe provides. I push aside my fears to hear her and recognize that now is the time. Now is the time to continue balancing my budget—what’s coming in vs. what’s going out. Now is the time to expand my focus beyond how much I am spending—how much am I saving? Now is the time because Now is as soon as possible but also forever.
“I’ll be fine.” I say to myself with conviction.
But what about Joy?
Justin delivered the news last night almost as soon as he walked through the door. He couldn’t even kiss me before releasing the words from his lips.
“I have some bad news, Cha. She’s getting kicked out.”
I remember the evaporating peace of that moment, after he said what he said but before I understood what he was saying.
I was in a really good mood.—Post-shower, I am wrapped up in my plush leopard-print robe, cozy from neck to ankle. The UGG robe was a birthday present to myself. Worth every penny, I feel like a queen when I wear it. When Justin comes home, I am wearing my robe, but not much else. It is Friday evening. I am celebrating my good mood and fabulous robe with a mojito.
Before Justin walked in, I was hungry, munching on Trader Joe’s Inner Peace pea crisps. I saw him before I heard him on account of the crunch. Wiping the crisp fakes off my fingers, I flew to my man. Everything was perfect.
“She’s getting kicked out.”
At first nothing, and then all at once the details came rushing back. Six weeks ago, a tweeky snitch exposed that Joy’s residential trailer was illegally parked in a commercial lot. Joy has lived there for fourteen years, but that doesn’t matter now. She has thirty days to be out.
Justin needs to stay busy. He rummages through the pile of mail, then takes out the trash, then walks around the exterior of the house to check out the handiwork of the roofers who were here all day preparing our roof for solar panels.
I can’t move. I stand in that spot for another minute, then collapse into the closest chair. Sitting in the dark, I breath through unsolicited anxiety.
“It will be ok, Cha Cha. You don’t have to figure anything out right now. Tomorrow you will write about this and you will feel better. A lot can happen in thirty days! Somehow, you and Justin will figure this out.” I believe this. I want to believe this. The alternative is to dwell on the worst-case scenario, living in extremely close quarters with Justin’s mother.
The next time Justin comes inside, it is after 8 p.m.
“Can you be done for the day?” I ask in a way that isn’t really asking.
“Sure,” he says and takes a seat on the couch. I move from the chair to be next to him and as I do he opens his arms. We are still sitting in the dark.
I think I am in shock. No, more like denial. If I acknowledge the problem, I will feel anxious. So I turn on Seinfeld and make another mojito.
I watch a full episode while Justin thumbs on his phone. He searches Zillow, Craigslist, and anything else for an affordable solution. Men always want to solve the problem. I let him fixate because I want him to solve this problem.
But this problem won’t be solved tonight. So during a scene I know by heart, I go into the kitchen and turn on the stove. Dinner is leftover homemade chicken soup with rice. When it’s hot enough, I say, “Dinner time!”
Now we are watching Ugly Betty while we eat our soup. I love soup and am grateful for my comfort food on this uneasy evening.
Two episodes later, we finish the third season and it is time for bed.
“Everything was perfect.” I say once we are snuggled up.
“I hate money,” Justin says. I don’t correct him, but silently apologize to the Universe. “I love money!” I say to myself. I don’t want Money to feel like she’s not welcome. We need her now more than ever!
“We’ll figure it out.” I say to Justin, internalizing the mantra, Where there’s a will, there’s a way.
To calm my nerves, I force myself to read a few pages of a novel. Then I turn off the light and slow down my breathing, slowing down time to make space for a miracle.