I held Onnika while Anna had a heart-to-heart with Gibson. With crying children in our arms, it was difficult to talk to my wife. Or maybe it wasn’t. She couldn’t kill me if she was trying to calm down our daughter. “So…I called a real estate agent today. I was thinking maybe it was time we put the house in Seattle up for sale.”
Anna stopped mid-cuddle and stared at me openmouthed. “You…? Really?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, I think we should. It seems like a waste of money, making payments on an empty house. And we’re trying to cut back, you know?”
“Oh, well I guess that makes sense,” she said, surprised but looking pleased. “Okay, yeah, make it happen.” She didn’t ask what we should price it at, and I was grateful. From what the agent had said, we were going to lose money on the deal; we’d paid way too much when we’d bought it.
Knowing I had to break the news to her sooner or later, I inhaled a deep breath, then said in a rush, “And actually, I was thinking…it’s stupid to waste money on renting a place right now. We should just save as much as we can until the show launches in the fall. I called Mom and Dad, and they said we could move back in with them. So…I told them we’d move in next month.”
Anna slowly closed her eyes, then shook her head. “If we’d just gotten something modest in the beginning…” she said. Her voice trembled in her effort to stay calm.
Setting Onnika down, I walked over to her. After scooting Gibson out of the way, I got down on my knees and looked up at her face. Feeling my presence, Anna opened her eyes. The green gems I adored were a little duller than before. That was my fault. The stress of dragging her down here, the stress of lying to her, everything I’d done recently had changed her. Me too. I felt worn from the inside out most days. I just needed something to work out like I planned it to.
“I know. I fucked up.” On so many things. “But the album will get us through until the fall. And then everything will be okay. I promise. I promise this will all work out, Anna.” It had to, because there were no more backup plans.
Her eyes widened, and the fear in them was unmistakable. “You don’t make promises.”
Nodding, I told her, “Exactly. But on this…I am. Just don’t give up on me. Okay?” Please see this through with me.
She was silent so long that I was sure she was going to tell me my crazy antics were finally too much for her and she was out of here. Jesus, I really hoped she didn’t say that. I couldn’t handle the sudden uncertainty of my life without her by my side, which was why I was selfishly piecemealing the truth to her. If I told her how fucked we really were, she’d be gone.
Anna studied me for a minute longer, then said, “Okay, Griffin. We can live with your parents. Until the fall.”
The sudden relief made me light-headed. Thank God. I at least had until the fall to dig myself out of this gargantuan hole I’d created. Hopefully that was enough time.
It didn’t take much to convince Anna that we should purge our household items so we had a safety net until the show took off. We sold most of the big-ticket items—like my fucktastic Hummer and some of Anna’s jewelry. Everything else we put into storage. We were going to live simply for a while, which kind of sucked for everyone, but it was only temporary. I’d get everything back, and then some.
We moved into my parents’ place with only a week’s worth of clothes each and a handful of toys for the girls. All of our stuff fit into four boxes that I stuffed in Dad’s minivan, since all of my cars were gone. Most everything of real value was gone. But surprisingly, Alfred was the hardest thing for me to part with. I’d gotten attached to having someone on hand to satisfy my every whim. I’d maybe even grown fond of the quiet, obedient ghost of a man himself, who seemed to appear out of nowhere right when I needed him the most. I teared up when I told him his services were no longer required. His only response was a curt nod goodbye. Damn my bad luck. And bad choices.
After the last of our boxes were shoved into my childhood bedroom, Anna sat on the bed and sighed. While Gibson jumped on the mattress and Onnika took halting steps around the room, I sat on the bed beside Anna. Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, I told her, “It could be worse.”
As the kids started fighting over a toy sticking out of a box, Anna tilted her head at me in question. “Really? How so?”
I opened my mouth to answer her, but before I could, Onnika threw up over everything inside the box. Well, that could happen.
Or you could find out just how fucked we really are.
Chapter 19
Not That Awesome
Almost every day, someone seemed to ask for more money—my songwriter, my producer, the guy designing my album cover, the recording studio, and even my family. They were all siphoning me dry. The house in Seattle finally sold, but with what I still owed on it, my bank account was hovering in the mid-four-digit mark. That wouldn’t last long in this city.
“What do you mean you need another five thousand,” I asked my songwriter when he upped his price yet again.