A Small Loan - Darcy Vebber

Lisa kept money on the top of her bureau, in her bedroom. Small bills and change, in a wide mouthed blue bowl. She liked seeing it there. Extra. Casual. Money left lying around. Like all her routines, the coffee in the morning, the cold beer at night, it made her feel safe. The money went here, her watch was placed there, the cell in its charger in the back, next to the photographs of her family and her friends.

Kate must have seen the money when she was looking at the photographs. She was particularly interested in one of the family, Kate, Lisa, their parents Alice and Marc, on the front porch of the house in Window Rock. She said she didn’t remember Marc at all.

Lisa had been in bed, trying to read. When Kate was drinking she didn’t sleep and when she didn’t sleep, she liked to argue. Lisa knew better than to say, as she had said before, you were thirteen when he died, you must remember something. Instead, she had nodded and held the script she was reading a little higher. It was another romantic comedy, written by an older man who had dozens of produced films in his past. It seemed mostly sad to Lisa. Too much longing. Too much disappointment.
Kate must have taken the money then. When Lisa got up to go to the kitchen for a glass of water, she saw that the money was gone. She didn’t really register it until she walked through the living room where Kate was meant to be sleeping. The TV was off, the blankets were still folded on the couch.

In the morning, Kate explained it this way. She got a text from Sam. He wanted to talk. Kate thought maybe he wanted to talk about Lisa. Maybe he wanted to see if she would take him back.

“So I said I’d meet him, right? I mean, if I hadn’t ..?” Kate was lying on the couch now, tangled up in the blanket and sheets, her short thin hair standing up on end and her eyelids puffy. She lifted her head to see her sister standing in the doorway but did not sit all the way up. “I wanted to help.”

Lisa cradled her coffee cup in both hands. She felt pressure, below her heart, maybe at the level of the diaphragm. Like someone was pushing in. Talking about Sam always made her feel that. Hearing someone else talk about him. His on going life, his life without her. Especially hearing Kate talk about it in her calm, distracted way. “So, what did he want to talk about?”

“Jesus,” said Kate. She yawned. “You know, how happy he is with Jesus. And money. He wanted to know if I could lend him money.” She laughed. “What an idiot.” Turning her face to the cushions, she said, “I’ve got to get some sleep.”