Bad Choices

The strip mall looks like stacked graham crackers dropped in the broken and dusty blacktop parking lot. It is low and brown, a rectangle of plate glass windows and mud colored brick. Straw-doll weeds poke through the crumbling asphalt; drying in the Arkansas sun. The store fronts reflect blinding flashes. An idling Cadillac purrs in a parking space between a Liquor Store and a Law Office. Heat shimmers the air over the hood. The hubcaps are missing. Three signs march across the sloped terra-cotta roof. Glaring, plastic white sheets, stark, black letters: BANKRUPTCY, DIVORCE, LIQUOR. The man slumps behind the steering wheel, window cracked; cigarette smoke and refrigerated air escaping. The woman touches up her nails in the passenger seat. They are early. The man drums his fingers on the bottom of the steering wheel. Fiddles with a string that has pulled loose from the leather wrapping. 
“I wonder if he owns both businesses.” He says. 
“Hmm?” 
“The lawyer…the liquor store and the law office have identical signs.” 
“Oh?” 
“Yep.” His fingers make a staccato pattern on the wheel. “Ahyep.” 
She gives him a blank look, returns to her nails. 
“Just odd is all.” He says. 
“Who knows? Who cares?” 
“Just making conversation.” 
“Chad…it’s a shitty place and judging by the size of that law office, he’s a shitty lawyer. They probably just went in together to save money.” 
“Hey, don’t get pissy with me. It was just an observation…He’s the cheapest I could find.” 
“Whatever.” She finishes touching up her pinky nail, screws the wand back into the bottle. 
Fingers drumming. 
“I hate waiting.” He stretches his spine, first to the left, then the right. The leather seat squeaks. 
“Well you’re the one who’s always in a hurry to get places.” Blowing on her nails. 
“I know.” 
“I just hope this doesn’t take long…Work. Lunch doesn’t last forever you know.” She looks down at her watch. 
“I thought you scheduled this with your boss?” He’s looking at her now. He’s got his back to the corner of the door and the driver’s seat, right leg pulled up on the seat, right arm resting on the seatback. He’s frowning. 
“Yeah, that’s what I did Chad. Hey sir, I know I’ve only been working here for a month but my husband got fired and we can’t pay our bills so do you mind if I go see my bankruptcy lawyer today?  
I don’t know these people that well. I’m not telling them that.” She sits primly, straight backed. 
“Well that’s great.” His frown deepens. “That's just great...What happens if you’re late? You know we can’t live without your pay right now.” 
“I don’t know Chad; but you’re the one who was so fired up that you had to pick me up early. I had this covered.” She hasn’t look at him. 
“Seriously?” He curls a lip. Clenches a fist. 
“Look, don’t worry about it, I’ll just work late if I have to. It’ll be okay.” Inspects a cuticle. 
“We’ve got that Apartment complex thing tonight, remember?” 
“Guess you’ll just have to take care of it by yourself.” She blows on her nails again, looks out the window. 
“Dammit, we agreed to do this stuff together. You know we need the free rent!” 
“Yeah, but I’ve got to work late…maybe…and like you said we need the money. I can’t get fired too.” Her voice is sweet reasonableness. Too sweet. 
“I wish you’d just told them so this wouldn’t be a big deal. I’m having a hard time covering all the bases by myself!” He's snarling now. 
“Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time playing on the computer, or taking naps, or hell, if you hadn’t gotten fired in the first place…maybe you wouldn’t be having such a hard time keeping up.” 
“Would you stop saying I was fired. I wasn’t fired. Being laid off is not the same as fired, dammit!” 
“I don’t see the difference. It looks the same from here.” 
“You don’t see the difference?” He’s turned away from her now. His fist is clenched. 
“I mean…Not really. Still broke, still losing everything. Still visiting a lawyer. I still had to go get a job. Same thing.” 
“No, it’s not the same thing. I didn’t get fired, I got laid off.” 
“Okay. You got laid off.” 
“Fired means it’s my fault, laid off means it’s the company’s…in case you don’t understand the difference.” 
“Okay. Okay.” 
“We clear on that?” 
“Yes sir. We…are…clear…sir.” 
“God, you’re such a bitch sometimes.” He regrets it as soon as he says it. 
“Don’t you call me a bitch! You know that’s the one name that I can’t stand. Don’t you ever call me a bitch!” A note of hysteria enters her voice. “It’s not my fault we’ve got all this debt…you had to have this Cadillac didn’t you? And all those computers, and those fancy suits, and eating out all the time and showing off what a big shot you were. Don’t you call me a bitch when I’m doing everything I can to just...to hold all this together. Why don’t you just go get a job? Where’s all that stuff you told me…’Oh, don’t worry Debbie, I’ve got lots of skills, I can always find another job.’” She’s angry, tearful…afraid. She's looking at him now. 
“You’re holding it all together? You? You? I’m working 3 jobs right now!” He's gone red in the face. 
“Right, 3 jobs.” 
“4 if you count the kids.” He leans forward; thrusts four fingers in her face. “And don’t give me any of this about how I had to have what I had to have…Ms. Tanning Bed. And the redecorating! It got so I never knew what I was coming home to. You were right there every time we went out to eat and every vacation we went on, so yeah, I made bad choices with money but you were right there with me! So I’m not taking the blame for all of that on my own. You didn’t complain about the expense when I put you through real estate school or paid for your parents to come visit. 
I know I promised you you wouldn’t have to work when we got married but things don’t always work out the way you want them to…obviously!” 
“Yeah, poor you. You have to watch the kids. What I wouldn’t give to be back at home really taking care of them instead of just ignoring them like you do. And I wouldn’t have spent all that money if you hadn’t kept saying ‘It’s okay baby, we’ve got more than enough baby, I’m going to keep being promoted.’ God we were such fools.” He believes she means that he is a fool. She slumps in her seat. She’s staring out of the front window now. She doesn’t trust herself to look at him. 
“I’m NOT ignoring the kids. I’ve got to sleep sometime and all that College stuff isn’t gonna do itself.” He throws himself back into his seat; slumps as well. 
“Yeah, you’re not ignoring them. That’s why my 5 year old daughter has a mullet now. You’re the most attentive man alive. Who the hell lets a 3 year old loose with a pair of scissors around his sister’s head?” 
“I told you what happened, they were down for a nap and I don’t…”  
“I know, I know, you don’t know where he found them…funny though…I’ve been at home for all their lives and no one ever got their hair cut unless they were due to get one and no one ever covered an entire bedroom’s carpet with food coloring.” 
“Alright, alright. Got it.” He doesn’t want to fight anymore. He's feeling beaten. That she's right. 
“And how do you expect me to help you with the apartment job? I’m working all day, coming home dog tired to a place that looks like a pit and then I’m trying to slap together some kind of dinner and make sure the laundry is done.” Her voice is fraying. 
“Hey, I cook and I do the laundry, that’s not fair.” 
“No, you make spaghetti every damned day and you wash all of the clothes in the same load. You never separate the colored from the whites or darks. You don’t use bleach and half the time you forget to get things in the dryer before they smell like mildew.” 
His pride is touched. Can't keep himself from lashing back. 
“Maybe if I had the luxury of sleeping at night instead of working while you and everyone else is in bed…or hanging around an office flirting with dudes, I’d have the capacity to remember things like that. Hell, I’d just like to be able to sleep at all!  Do you know how hard it is to keep up with our kids and the neighborhood kids when I can barely remember what my name is? And, when I do get a chance to sleep, I can’t turn my head off. And you know very well that you can mix darks and whites if you use cold water. Not everything has to be done your way. Ahh…I’m getting God’s own headache.” 
He leans his head back against the seat and closes his eyes. She looks angry, hurt, confused…scared and furious. Mostly she looks scared. 
“I’m flirting with dudes… You’ve got to be kidding me! I can’t believe I let you talk me into starting your own business…you realize you pissed away $60,000 and wasted a year you could have been looking for a real job? But no…you were too good to go back to being just an employee. ‘Oh, Debbie! Everyone in the industry is out of work right now, better to just start my own business. It’ll be great. You’ll see. I know everything there is to know about computers!’ Why couldn’t we have just paid off some bills and gotten a real job like normal people? Instead, you played around for 18 months and now we don’t even have that to fall back on.” 
“Because I was right and you know it. No one was hiring, no one’s hiring now either. At least I brought in some income before I had to shut the door.” 
“Yeah…whatever…I’m so tired of fighting about this…SHIT!” Her face is red. She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, making a visible effort to calm herself. 
“Well we’re at a one-stop shop baby. If you’re ready to be done with me we can take care of all of it at the same time. You just let me know.” He's half-convinced it's a good idea. Sarcastic. 
“We can barely afford the bankruptcy; I doubt we can afford a divorce to go with it.” She sounds resigned, tired, sad. 
The door of the liquor store rotates open. Light reflects and slides across Debbie’s face, then Chad’s. A middle aged man in a brown sport coat and cowboy boots walks out of the liquor store, turns right, walks slowly past the long white hood of the Cadillac, opens the door to the law office and disappears inside. Chad sighs. 
“Maybe he’s got the right idea. Booze before destruction.” He makes drinking motions with his hand. 
“Maybe.” 
Silence fills the car. Neither know where to place their eyes, neither can find words. Something big is hanging between them but they can’t find the edges of it. They don’t know how to start. They both look at the clock. 
“Debbie. I’m really sorry. I know I made a lot of bad choices. I know that most of this is my fault. If I could go back and change things I would.” 
Silence. 
“I know you would. And you’re right, it wasn’t all your fault. I’m sorry. I am being a bitch.” She softens. 
“No. No. You’re never a bitch. I’m sorry I called you that. I know you hate it.” He's grateful. Relieved. Thankful. 
“Yeah. That really hurts my feelings. Don’t do that again.” She gives a trembling smile. His heart tears a little. She continues, “I heard from Jesse’s doctor this morning and I heard from David’s school. I thought I was ready to do this with you today but...it all just piled up and then the paperwork at work and then you coming earlier than I expected…I’m just not doing well right now.” 
“I understand, I was just so…freaked out about this whole thing that I couldn’t sit at the house waiting. I had to move.” 
“I know, you always have to move Chad. It’s just who you are.” 
“What about Jesse?” 
“It’s not great news.” 
“Okay.” 
“Her orthotics are going to be $700. But they gave me a number for the Scottish Rite hospital; if I can get her seen there…it’ll be free.” 
“Wow. My heart just about stopped when you said $700…the other part’s not bad news.” 
“I know, it’s just that they don’t always take people and it means she has to go without until they do accept her.” 
He pauses. “I’m not going to worry about that right now, I mean, I’m just going to believe that they’re going to get her in quickly and she’ll be taken care of.” 
“Alright.” 
“And David?” He asks. 
“He’s struggling at the new school. He got in a fight.” 
“Oh God…did he start it?” 
“No…but he’s still in In-School Suspension.” 
Chad sighs and lowers his head. 
“Honestly, if you really are done with me…I understand. I never meant to hurt you guys.” 
“Don’t say that. We’re all that we have left.” 
Debbie slides across the seat and wraps her arms around Chad. Her head is buried in his chest. He can feel her tears soaking through his shirt. 
“I’m going to fix this Debbie. I promise. Once I have the degree I should be able to find a job, some job, and I’m going to fix it.” 
“I know.” 
The door of the lawyer’s office rotates open. Light reflects and slides across Chad’s face, then Debbie’s. The man in the sport coat and boots steps onto the sidewalk and slowly walks down the sidewalk. He stops in front of the Cadillac. His shoulders are slumped, his eyes are red, they match his shirt. He has been crying. He stares through the windshield of the car at the couple embracing; they stare back. A long moment expands, the man ducks his head, rubs a knuckle under his eye that turns into a swipe of his hand.  He gives a tentative wave, a slight, sad smile and walks on down the sidewalk, out into the parking lot. He stops at a brown Ford pickup, opens the door, and climbs in. They watch until he drives away. 
“It’s our turn in the chute I guess. God…Debbie…I don’t want to go in there. I feel…I feel like part of me is dying. I’m so ashamed.” He looks like he wants to cry. 
“Hey, hey. Baby. Hey, It’s okay. Things could be so much worse. At least they can’t take us away from each other, right?” She touches his face. 
“Yeah. Yeah. That’s right. I love you.” His voice is hoarse. 
“I love you.” 
“Let’s go.” He blinks rapidly and quickly pulls the door handle. 
The Cadillac doors swing open. Synchronized. The man steps out first. The woman, wiping her eyes comes second. They meet at the front of the car. 
“He looked so sad Chad.” She watches the truck pull out of the parking lot. 
“Who?” 
“That man. The guy who just came out of here.” 
“Yeah. Yeah…It looked like someone had just taken a piece out of his hide.” He sounds distracted. 
“Or his heart. I feel so sorry for him.” 
“Yeah. I know you do baby. Let’s get this over with, okay? It’s too damn hot out here.” 
“Yeah. Together, okay? We can do this together.” 
“Right…right.” He smiles at her and glances away. 
The man grasps the steel handle; the glass door rotates open. He holds it as she enters. The office is small and narrow. A cherry wood colored desk, faux-antique, masters the reception area. A black leatherette couch crouches against the wall. Well-thumbed magazines are stacked haphazardly on the glass coffee table. Their address labels are torn away. A short hall runs back to a lighted door. The office is quiet. Reception is empty. They sit to wait. 3 Minutes. 5 Minutes. 10 Minutes. 
“Don’t you hate it when they make an appointment and then they don’t keep it? Why is their time so much more valuable than ours?” He whispers. 
“Hush Chad!” 
“I am hushed; I’m whispering. It just pisses me off.” 
“Alright, I’ll go find somebody.” 
“Debbie, don’t…” 
“Don’t worry…I want to get this done too. I need to help you with that thing tonight. I’m just gonna find the receptionist, maybe she’s in the back and doesn’t realize we’re here.” 
The woman moves across the reception room to the hallway. She walks confidently but hesitantly. At the edge of the hall she pokes her head in and says, “Hello. Hello? Anyone here?” The man flushes, embarrassed, leans forward and snatches the top magazine from the pile, InStyle. His face disappears behind it. No one responds. The woman walks farther down the hall. “Hello?” The man riffles some pages and looks toward his wife. Something seems out of place. There’s a smell in the air… The woman reaches the lit doorway. 
“Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Chad! Oh God…There’s blood! They’re dead!” 
“What?!” 
The man runs down the hall and throws his arm around the woman’s shoulder as she turns into his shoulder sobbing, her hands to her face, her mouth open and wet with “Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!...” The man closes his eyes and shudders. He pulls her back to the reception room. There is a phone on the desk: The man uses it. 911. The man and the woman wait in the Cadillac with the windows rolled up. Neither know where to place their eyes, neither can find words. Something bigger is hanging over them. They can’t find the edges of it and they are afraid. Crouched deep in the cars' seats, his face is whited, eyes wide; her mouth a tight gash. Separately, together, they watch, terrified the man in the brown truck will return.