Claire sighed, turned away from the window, then retrieved her bank book from the dresser drawer. Peeking out from beneath her socks, was a folded yellow sheet she hadn’t read in three years. Slowly, she unfolded the note.

 

   “Dearest Claire,” her father had written. “I’m moving out, because your mom and I don’t get along, and it’s better this way. I’ll send you money when I’ve found a decent job. Here’s twenty dollars to buy yourself something nice for your birthday next month. Happy eleventh, Claire-bear. Love, Dad”.

 

   Claire opened her bank book. Two hundred, seventy-five dollars and six-four cents.

 

   Many times, she’d heard her grandmother lecture her parents to “put something away for a rainy day”. Even then, Claire understood the importance of her words. She’d grown up knowing how horrible things were without money. She’d heard classmates whisper about her “ugly” thrift-store clothes, the “shack” she lived in.

 

   Claire folded the note. She hadn’t heard from her father since, nor had she expected to. Dad hadn’t been interested in earning money, a trait Claire didn’t share. Determined to have a better life when she grew up, Claire had opened an account with her birthday gift and began saving whenever possible. Once she graduated from high school, she’d get a secretarial job, save money for college, and become an accountant. There was always work in that field, always enough money for food.

 

   When Claire heard a light tap on the door, she slipped the note under her socks. She wasn’t sure why she’d kept it. Maybe this was her reminder not to become a penniless failure who ran away from problems and responsibility.

 

   “Come in.”

 

   “Hi, sweetie.” Mom’s brief smile looked shaky.

 

   Since this morning, when Mom told her the bills were out of control and she wanted to chat with Claire tonight, Claire had felt edgy. Climbing onto her bed, she placed the bank book beside her, then clasped her arms around her bent knees.

 

   “I remember the day you opened that account.” Mom sat next to her and gazed at the bank book. “You’ve been saving hard, haven’t you, honey?”

 

   “Trying.” Claire held her breath.

 

   Over the last three years, she’d done tons of yard work for elderly neighbors. She’d also babysat dozens of kids. Last summer, she picked strawberries in the hot sun. In winter, she shoveled snow until her shoulders ached and her fingers grew numb. The hardest job was rising at five a.m. to deliver newspapers.

 

   “I’ve been trying too, honey.”

 

   Claire nodded and looked at the rain-splattered window. Water spilled over the eaves.

 

   After Dad left, things went from bad to worse. Mom’s part-time cashier’s job couldn’t pay the bills. While she looked for a second job, the food ran out. Her “Scots pride”, as Mom called it, had kept her from resorting to welfare or food banks. She’d borrowed money once from Grandma, but was too ashamed to do it again. Twice, Clare had offered to give Mom some of her earnings. After the second offer, Mom said, “I haven’t sunk low enough to take money from a child”.

 

   She remembered her mother’s tears after creditors demanded payment. How many times had they turned out the lights and pretended not to be home when someone banged on the door to take their furniture? Sometimes they couldn’t hide fast enough. The TV was gone now. Claire didn’t miss it anymore. There were too many jobs to do, plus homework and chores.

 

   “Everything’s gone up in price, Claire. Heat, electricity, phone.” Her mother scratched raw, scaly hands from the housecleaning job she landed two years ago. “I’ve missed three car payments, and they’ll take it if I don’t give them two hundred dollars by Monday. And I’m out of medication.”

 

   Claire’s cheeks grew pink. She knew it was torture for Mom to ask, and Claire was glad to help, but she hadn’t expected such a large request. Still, bus routes weren’t great here in the suburbs. Her mother needed the car to get to work, and she definitely needed the anti-depressants.

 

   Mom lowered her head. “I’ll get a paper route too. Pay you back.”

 

   Claire felt a lump in her throat. Mom didn’t have the energy for three jobs. “No, don’t. I’ll be fifteen next year. I’ll get a job at the mall.”

 

   She handed her mother the bank book, watched her read the balance and nod, as if she already knew the amount.

 

   “I’m so proud of you, honey.” Her mother hugged her.

 

   Claire bit the inside of her mouth to keep her emotions in check. Her neck and shoulders grew prickly warm.

 

   Her mother spotted the rolls of coins and loose change on her dresser. “I should put something on the phone bill too.”

 

   Acid roiled in Claire’s stomach. Her hands clenched her grandmother’s quilt. Every penny would be gone.

 

   Mom stood and picked up the rolls and loose coins. “I’ll take this downstairs. Since tomorrow’s Saturday, my shift doesn’t start until noon. We’ll go to the bank first thing in the morning.”

 

   Claire attempted a smile.

 

   At the threshold, her mother turned around. “I’m so sorry about this, Claire.”

 

   Claire shrugged. “No point in saving up if you can’t help family.”

 

   When her mother left, tears slipped from between Claire’s lashes. As Claire wiped her eyes, she spotted a nickel on the carpet. She slid off the bed and picked up the coin. She wrapped her hand around the cool metal, placed it under Dad’s note, then strolled to the window. Gazing outside, she prayed this rainy day would end soon. She’d lined up a lot of work tomorrow.

 

THE END