The Breaking Point

SHORT STORY MONDAY

It was gratifying to win the 1991 Arrowhead Regional Fiction Competition with this story. It was fun to write, especially as it was based on a true story. Turns out that 1991 was possibly the only year in which winning entries did not end up in print. Though I won some prize money, it seemed publication would have been more satisfying. Nevertheless, the award was gratifying, and I hope you will stick with it the next few weeks of Short Story Mondays.

The Breaking Point

It was a Wednesday when the bill arrived. Cassie Hedberg's birthday was the following Monday, so it wasn't too difficult to put one and one together to make two.

The envelope from Montgomery Ward was addressed to Carl, but thinking it junk mail, she dutifully checked its contents before throwing it. The bill for $523.87 startled her and it crossed her mind to call Ward's to correct their error. Then she remembered her upcoming birthday and a glowing liquid warmth pulsed through her veins.

Twice she picked up the phone to call one of her friends to tell them of Carl's thoughtfulness, to brag up her man. Each time she left off dialing and decided it would be best to wait.

Thursday she began mentally re-arranging the furniture. The old TV would go down to the den; the new one would fit nicely here in the corner. Carl was never good at concealing things from her, and she laughed now about the time four years ago when she caught him cheating, how flustered and ashamed he'd been, how easily she saw through all his pretexts, and how fortunate she was to have brought him back home. That was a hard year, her hardest since the year Thad was born while Lisa was still in diapers.

~~~

She was walking with an extra spring in her step and when friends called -- it
seemed like everyone was calling that day -- they were uplifted by her spunk and cheer.

"You win a lottery or something?" Donna Trumbull asked.

"Why's that?" Cassie pretended not to notice the melodic sing-song sound of her voice.

"My, aren't we happy as a lark today," Gloria said when she heard Cassie's lively trill.

~~~

Around one o'clock she turned on one of the soap operas she followed sporadically and for the first time in months Cassie was not annoyed by the poor reception she'd always endured with this television set. She especially hated it that when people walked around in certain parts of the room the color would fade; the set belching fuzzy static sounds.

At six, Carl called Cassie to apologize for being late, but said he'd be home by seven and that she should go ahead and eat. And for the first time in months she didn't mind his long hours or his busy schedule.

Friday, too, was a nice day. There was a light rain in the afternoon, but the farmers need it, Cassie thought, and the forecast for the weekend is nice weather ahead. Around four that afternoon, the phone rang and it was Carl. "What do you say we get a sitter tonight and go to a movie?"

"Is there anything playing? I don't think I want to see Dick Tracy," Cassie answered.

"We'll find something," Carl said, and Cassie said she'd try to find a sitter.

~~~

She always hated the way Carl never planned anything ahead and lived life on the fly. It's hard enough to find sitters on Fridays without having it be the last minute, but this annoyance, too, seemed to diminish when she thought of the new TV and the possibilities of romance returning to their flat, listless relationship.

At six, Carl phoned again. "Sorry. I'm a little behind. I've been breaking my ass to fix a busted gear on this new unit. I'll be home in twenty." It was six-forty when he came through the door, the house smelling aromatic from Cassie's homemade stew.

Cassie rushed through the agenda as she ladled the stew into his bowl. "We've all eaten. The sitter will be here at seven. Movie starts at seven-twenty. I'll go get dressed."

~~~

Before seating himself, Carl unbuttoned his shirt, gave his wife a peck on the cheek and fixed himself a drink. While he was finishing his dinner the sitter arrived, ten minutes early. Cassie showed the girl around while he washed and changed upstairs.

"What movie are we seeing?" Carl asked as they pulled out of the drive. Cassie said the one she wanted to see was at Cinema Five, but if he didn't want to see that one, there were two other movies that looked interesting.

Afterwards they went to Bridgeman's for ice cream.

"We should do this more often," Cassie said.

"I know."

She was surprised when he didn't add, "I just hate spending the money." His traditional tightfistedness with money had often made her wish she'd started earlier with a career. Because Carl was bringing home the bacon, Carl always had final say about how it was sliced.

CONTINUED