Negative Positives

8: Stupid People

Damien

Wednesday, February 7th, 2024

4 days sober

"What the hell do you mean?" I growl into my phone. "I had twelve-hundred bucks in that account! How the hell...? f*****g Kelly!"

I scowl at the phone and squeeze my eyes shut. The nice lady at the bank is not to blame. I should have made all these phone calls yesterday but I'd been job hunting all day.

Taking a deep breath through my nose, I force my voice to come out softer. "I'm sorry, Stacey... Tracey, right, sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. Is there any money anywhere that my ex hasn't cleaned out?"

Tracey informs me I have one forgotten savings account with seventy dollars and fifty-five cents in it.

"Okay. s**t. That's not going to last long. Does she have access to that account?"

After another twenty minutes of locking account access and closing empty accounts, cancelling cards, direct debit authorities and automatic payments, Tracey has secured those precious dollars in a private account for me and arranged for my credit cards to be frozen. She sends me a payment plan advice email and reminds me of my responsibility toward the existing debt, despite the fact that the card was only maxed out yesterday and it wasn't me that used it. She advises me to call the police if it was theft.

"Thank you, Tracey. Again, sorry for mouthing off at you. You've been fantastic. Tell your supervisor I'm really impressed."

Hanging up the phone, I drop it onto the kitchen bench and saunter outside for a fag. I only have half of it, then put it out carefully to save for later. It's my last one. There's no way my last seventy bucks is going on ciggies.

I phone Wayne and tell him about the change in bank account number and ask about final pay. Yes, I would receive the holiday pay I'd earned. No, there was no way he could reconsider firing me, it was company policy and over his head. No, nothing would be passed on to police or go on my record.

Thank f**k.

Wayne wishes me good luck and I thank him for being a good boss.

Then there's the landlord to call. Aaron is his name. He isn't happy. I was meant to give notice of four weeks minimum. I try to explain that Kelly is still there and has all the money but Aaron isn't good at listening. I have to pay the rent for four more weeks or I'll lose my bond money. Having reached my limit for being polite to people for the day, I tell Aaron to shove it. It's Kelly's problem now.

The power company and the internet service provider are one company, and they had unfortunately sold too many shares to overseas investors so their call centre was based in the Philippines. After twenty minutes of listening to God-awful hold music, a guy —who's name I didn't catch, could barely understand or speak enough English to communicate with me, and asked about ten times the amount of stupid questions than should have been necessary— only succeeds in frustrating me to near insanity. I end up hanging up on the poor man. I'll try again tomorrow.

The last cigarette is gone soon after that.

Fuck Kelly. Gold-digging, thieving b***h.

I wanted to rage at her, demand my money back, dump all of the problems on her but I'm not that sort of guy. I feel guilty about letting her down, getting fired and screwing everything up.

But then I remember her abuse. The scratches on my face are deep and have big ugly scabs over them now. They might even leave a scar or two. Nah, she deserves to be left in the lurch. Daddy would bail her out anyway. Let her be stuck with the grumpy landlord, the confusing as hell power company, and the problem of paying bills out of her "spending money". She has all of my stolen savings to use. She will probably move some other poor p***y-whipped bastard in with her soon enough.

Glancing at the time, I decide I'd better go pick up my cat before the psycho gets back from work. I still have my house key. I could grab a couple of things while I'm there. The stereo system is mine. Maybe I could sell it.

Meridith isn't home but I find Jellybean outside in her favourite spot on top of the concrete wall that separates the neighbouring properties. She meows and follows me inside.

I find the cat biscuits and give her a wee few to munch on while I unhook cords and wires, and carry the sound system out to my truck.

I grab the Xbox too, a few towels, a good frying pan, the sandwich press my mum had sent me for Christmas, Jellybean's bed and toys, and my favourite coffee mug with the Pink Floyd prism on it.

Lastly I get the pet crate and the carrier out of the garage and scoop up my little black kitty, giving her a snuggle before popping her inside.

I leave a note on Meridith's door, thanking her for looking out for Jellybean.

I hadn't asked Jason and Steph about my cat. I hope she'll get on with Charlie okay and that they'll be happy to have her there. Otherwise I didn't know what else to do with her. I hate the idea of having to rehome her.

Unfortunately, Charlie and Jellybean do not become instant friends, they're almost the same size but, as with all Dachshunds, his bark is as big as a Rottweiler's, and poor Jellybean is terrified. I shut her in the laundry and put Charlie in the yard until they both calm down. When Steph gets home from work just after three, she's delighted to meet the young feline and assures me it's fine for her to stay, but it means everyone being extra careful about doors and Charlie would have to be shut in the hallway at night.

I breathe a shaky sigh of relief that Steph is being accommodating. Quitting ciggies is going to be hard.

When Jason gets home at five thirty, I —hands shaking already— tell them both about my situation with money, and the cat, and having to quit smoking. Steph is sympathetic but Jason looks a little apprehensive, though he smiles and encourages me.

I decide I can't stay any longer than this weekend or I'll be imposing myself on them too much.

The next morning there are sixteen missed calls and twice as many abusive messages on my phone from Kelly. Apparently the power company had cut off the power and internet. I laugh and ignore her, leaving my phone on silent. The downside to that is that I miss a call from my mum and don't see it until after her bedtime. She always goes to bed early.

Thursday and Friday are spent focusing on job hunting but I'm so tired and irritable that I can't concentrate much. The uncomfortable couch, my craving for nicotine, my anxious cat and my racing mind all keep me awake late at night, not to mention that the walls in this house aren't exactly soundproof. Steph is a screamer. I find it difficult to look them in the eyes at breakfast time.

I've never felt like such an awkward third wheel before in my life.

Saturday morning I get up early and leave the house to avoid hearing my friends going at it again.

I drive passed my old house just to be nosy and see a red Holden Commodore in the driveway, tucked up behind Kelly's little sports car. Isn't that Eric's car? I can't remember his other name, he was some guy that was friends with Kelly's best friend, or maybe her brother. I could be wrong though. Oh well, good luck to her if it was. That guy is a d**k. Why do I care anyway?

I drive to the real estate place to enquire about rental properties but they're closed until Monday.

I sigh and call my mum.

Anita wants her son to come home but I tell her it would feel like giving up. She understands and showers me with praise at staying sober and drug-free, and quitting smoking, encouraging me to keep my spirits up. She tells me to check my bank account for an early birthday present. Glancing at my fuel guage on empty, I have to hold back tears as I thank her and give her the new account number.

Sunday, I manage to sell my stereo system and I give some money to Steph for food. She refuses it, I insist —it wasn't like I was a very convenient house guest, it was the least I could do— she finally caves.

Monday. I have until Monday.