Chapter 8 - The Trailer Was Worth Less Than Michael Needed
Michael had paid thirty-eight hundred dollars for the used equipment trailer.
The first buyer offered twenty-four.
Michael refused.
The second offered twenty-six.
The third walked around it twice, pointed out rust near one wheel well, and said twenty-eight hundred cash.
Michael stared at the trailer.
It had his company logo on both sides.
CARTER HOME RENOVATION.
His name.
His phone number.
A business he had built over eleven years.
“Thirty-two,” Michael said.
The buyer shook his head.
“Twenty-eight.”
“Thirty.”
“No.”
Michael almost sent him away.
Then Noah called.
“Dad?”
“What?”
“Can I use my PS5?”
Michael closed his eyes.
“Of course.”
“Mom said ask because it’s downstairs.”
“You don’t have to ask me to use your own game.”
“Oh.”
A pause.
“Okay.”
Michael heard something in the boy’s voice.
Uncertainty around possession.
The financial crisis had taught Noah that objects could become household assets overnight.
Michael looked at the trailer.
“Twenty-eight fifty.”
The buyer laughed.
“Fine.”
Michael sold it.
The logo drove away twenty minutes later.
He stood in the parking lot feeling physically smaller.
His phone rang.
Weston Builders.
He had called that morning.
The superintendent position was still open.
Not at the salary he wanted.
Enough.
Health insurance.
Retirement match.
Predictable direct deposit every other Friday.
He asked for the weekend.
The recruiter said Monday morning.
Another clock.
When Michael got home, he found a stranger’s sedan in the driveway and nearly panicked.
Then he recognized the buyer from Wednesday.
The PS5 buyer.
Sarah stood outside with him.
Ethan too.
Michael got out.
“What’s going on?”
The buyer looked embarrassed.
“I think your son left this in the cash.”
He held up a folded piece of paper.
Ethan grabbed for it.
Sarah got there first.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
She unfolded it.
A list.
PS5 #1 — $350
PS5 #2 — $350
Curry card — $425
Bike — $120
Old iPad — $80
Dad tools? — ASK
At the bottom:
TOTAL POSSIBLE = $1,325
Sarah looked at Ethan.
His face turned red.
“I was just counting.”
Michael took the paper.
“Dad tools?”
“I wrote ask.”
That somehow made it worse.
The buyer looked at Michael.
“I figured you’d want it.”
“Thank you.”
He left.
Ethan tried to go inside.
Michael stopped him.
“Wait.”
“I’m not selling anything.”
“I know.”
“You guys said rent’s getting paid.”
“It is.”
“Then what?”
Michael looked at the list.
“You've been building backup plans.”
Ethan shrugged.
Sarah watched.
Michael said:
“That’s my job.”
Ethan looked at him.
“You didn’t do it.”
The sentence hurt.
Michael let it.
“You’re right.”
Sarah shifted beside them.
Ethan continued:
“You both keep saying we’re fine after stuff already happens.”
Michael folded the paper.
“What would make you believe us?”
Ethan stared at the driveway.
“I don’t know.”
Fair.
Michael handed the list back.
“I sold the trailer.”
Ethan looked up.
“For rent?”
“Partly.”
“Did you need it?”
“Yes.”
“Then you sold your thing.”
Michael understood the trap.
“If I sell something, that doesn’t mean you have to.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m responsible for the debt.”
Ethan frowned.
“What about Mom?”
Sarah looked at Michael.
Then at Ethan.
“I have money too.”
“You’re using it?”
“Yes.”
“So both of you sell or pay stuff.”
Michael said:
“Because we’re the adults.”
Ethan laughed bitterly.
“You keep saying that.”
Then he went inside.
Sarah watched him go.
“He doesn’t believe words anymore.”
Michael looked toward the house.
“No.”
“What do we do?”
He held up the trailer sale receipt.
“Pay rent.”
She nodded.
“Then?”
Michael looked at her.
“Do the next thing we say.”
Sarah was quiet.
Then:
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It probably is.”
For the first time in days, she smiled.
Briefly.
Then her phone rang.
Oak Hollow.
The leasing office.
Sarah looked at the screen.
May you like
Michael didn't ask her to answer on speaker.
She noticed that too.
