Page 49 of Love Resurrected
I think back to the last time I remember having it. Last night at the restaurant with Neil. I used it to pay for my drink while I waited at the bar. I know I got it back because the server brought it in one of those little folders to the table after we’d been seated.
“Can you give me one second?” I ask the salesperson. She nods in response and I step to the side to call Adams Avenue Grill to see if my card is still there. Luckily, the woman who answers the phone is the same one who was there last night, and she remembers me because she liked my shoes. Unfortunately, I didn’t leave my credit card in the folio on the table.
I can’t believe I lost it. I never do that. Like, ever. It’s the only credit card I really have, outside of store-based cards, and I use it for everything because the purchasing benefits are fantastic.
Well, shit.
I head back to the register and hand the salesperson my debit card to pay. She runs it through the machine and waits. Instead of that receipt printing sound, the machine beeps in response. She slides it through again.
Once again, it beeps.
“It looks like they declined it. Do you have another card you’d like to use?”
“Declined? That’s impossible. That’s my debit card. I keep like, twenty thousand in there at all times. Plus, I have overdraft protection.”
She looks at me like she doesn’t believe me.
“I’m sure you hear that all the time, but I mean it.”
She smiles, but it’s more of a pity smile than anything else. “Well, can you set the basket aside for me, and I’ll run to the bank and get cash and come back?” I ask.
“Of course,” she says, but I’m not convinced she really will. I have a feeling the minute I walk out the door, she’ll slice open my gift basket and re-shelve all the items I’d had picked out for Sadie’s pick-me-up present.
Crap.
My bank is a short drive away, which ends up being good because my car is low on gas. It’s a terrible habit I have of trying to eke as many miles out of my car as I can before refilling. Sadie refills her tank the minute she hits a quarter of a tank. It amazes me.
I enter the dimly lit, over-cooled building and wait to be buzzed through the controlled access entrance, then stand in line to wait for an available teller. I opened this account when I moved here; the bank is a nationwide chain with branches all over the place, which is convenient. But I have to admit I kind of miss my local bank from back home in Texas. I knew everyone who worked there, and they knew me. My dad banked there, as did most of our friends, and it was the kind of place where if you found yourself overdrawn, you could call and get a temporary line of credit over the phone to cover whatever purchase you were waiting to make. Not that I was ever overdrawn, but Sadie was plenty of times.
My phone buzzes with a text. It’s Ethan letting me know he’s taking Sadie home, but she’s on strict bed rest for the rest of the pregnancy. Of course she is. Which is why relaxing lotions and bath bombs would be perfect for her.
Grrrr.
I’m surprised to see it’s almost two o’clock in the afternoon. I hadn’t realized I’d spent so much time in the bath shop. I send Ethan a quick text reply to let him know that I’ll stop by in a bit to say hi and bring Sadie a little pick-me-up present.
ETHAN: You are awesome, Tenley. You know that, right?
ME: Yep!
I’m next in line and head up to the teller window when called.
“Hi, I just tried to make a small purchase over at the mall and my card was declined, but I’m not sure why,” I tell her, realizing I probably sound exactly like every person who has ever been overdrawn in their account.
I swear, I do not understand how I’m out of money.
She writes something down on a small piece of paper and slides it across the countertop toward me. She’s written a dash mark, and a six followed by three zeroes on it.
“What this?” I ask.
“That is your current balance,” she says.
“I only have six thousand dollars? What happened?”
“That’s a negative sign.”
“A negat—Wait a minute, are you saying that I’m six thousand dollars overdrawn?”
“That is correct.”
