Jack woke up Saturday morning with a pounding headache. Although he didn't bother trying to establish a cause for his headache, the stress of the previous day had worn him down. He sat on the edge of his bed rubbing his eyes to wipe the sleep from them. When he stretched, a muscle spasm in his back nearly brought tears to his eyes.
He dressed in a pair of short pants. It was just enough to be presentable. He stumbled to the kitchen for some aspirin and water. He opened a cabinet and looked through the packaged medicines within it. It didn't take long to find the bottle. He popped the lid off and dumped three of them into the palm of his hand. Going over to the sink, he filled a glass with water. After tossing the pills into his mouth, he drank enough water to get them down his throat.
"Good morning," Abby said watching him from the kitchen table.
"Oh. Good morning," Jack said blinking his eyes and snorting a bit to clear out his sinuses. He rubbed the area where his shoulders and neck met trying to get rid of some of the tension in the muscles there.
"How did you sleep?" Abby asked. She took a sip of coffee.
"Not very good," Jack answered. He had tossed and turned the whole night thinking about his paycheck being held by the bank for ten days.
"I slept like a log," Abby said.
"You're lucky. I kept having nightmares of bankers cooking steaks using everyone's paychecks instead of wood for the fire," Jack said.
"We won't starve," Abby said.
He looked at her for a second and then asked, "Where did you get the coffee?"
"Coffee and oatmeal are being served in the garage," Abby said looking over at him with a smile.
"Our garage?" Jack asked.
"Yes. People are sitting around on the couches that we put out there," Abby said. She laughed and said, "You did say that our company could stay in the garage."
"I guess I did," Jack said not really remembering saying anything to that effect. He turned away to put the glass down.
"Go put on a shirt and get some coffee," Abby said watching him stretch. She had to admit that he was well developed in the shoulders.
"Why do I need to put on a shirt?" Jack asked. He could feel the aspirin starting to work. It hadn't helped his headache, but his sore muscles were feeling a little better.
"We don't want all of those little old ladies having heart attacks," Abby said.
Jack laughed and said, "Like that is going to happen."
"There is some major league plotting going on out there," Abby said. She'd come inside because she wasn't sure that she was all that welcome. It seemed to her like the neighbors had decided that a commune of old ladies didn't need to include a young couple.
"I guess I better put a shirt on," Jack said.
"Yeah," Abby said. She took another sip of coffee; watching him over the lip of the cup as he left the kitchen. When he was gone, she said, "Poor guy carries all of his stress in the muscles of his back."
After a minor trip to the bathroom to relieve a full bladder, Jack put on a shirt and went out to the garage. It was a small detached garage that stood in the corner of the backyard. There were five elderly women sitting around on the couches drinking coffee and talking. They stopped talking when he entered the garage. He went over to the coffee pot and poured a cup of coffee. The coffee was steaming hot. He took a sip and said, "Ah ... that tastes good."
Realizing that he was drinking hot coffee out of a pot that was in his garage, he looked at coffee pot for a minute. The warming light was on. Wondering where the electricity was coming from, he put down his cup. Squatting, he looked under the table and saw that the pot was plugged into one of his extension cords. He followed the extension cord out the door and saw that it went over to the house next door. Turning to the women in the garage, he asked, "Who did that?"
"I did," one of the women answered.
Angry, he said, "I might be poor, but I've got my pride. I'm not stealing from the dead!"
"What?" the woman asked shocked at his accusation.
Jack marched out of the garage and went over to Penny's backyard. He pulled the plug from the outdoor electric outlet. Returning to the house, he coiled the extension cord as he moved. He dumped the cord on the floor of his garage. He picked up his coffee and went out the garage door. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the coffee onto the grass.
Returning to the house, he put the coffee cup on the kitchen counter to wash later. He looked over at Abby and said, "You won't believe what they had done."
"What?" Abby asked. She hadn't felt exactly welcomed by the women and wondered if they had made a rude comment about him being out there.
"They ran an extension cord to Penny's house. We were stealing electricity from her," Jack said gesturing in the direction of the house next door with his thumb.
"Oh," Abby said looking at him. She had seen it and not thought anything about it.
"She's not even dead a day and they're stealing from her," Jack said angrily.
Abby said, "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to fix that front door of hers so that no one can steal anything out of the house," Jack said. He hadn't really known Penny, but that didn't matter to him.
"Okay," Abby said surprised by his anger.
Jack marched out the door and went to the garage. He went over to the pile of scrap wood and looked through it for something that would be appropriate for repairing the front door. It took him a few minutes to find an appropriate board that wasn't too beat up. He picked up his toolbox and headed out the door. The old women watched him without saying a word.
Jack went over to Penny's house and inspected the door. The police had closed it and put tape over the opening, but a small push on the door left it wide open. He got out the appropriate tools and went to work replacing the wood that had been damaged when the door had been kicked open. It took him about an hour to fix it properly. He wished that he had some paint to make it look halfway decent, but it was the best he could do with the materials on hand.
He tested the door without it being locked a couple of times to make sure that it worked correctly. Pushing against the door didn't cause it to open. He locked the knob and closed the door for a final time. He said, "That'll have to do it."
Jack packed up his tools and closed his tool box. There was a little scrap of wood and he picked that up. He stood there feeling like hell. He said, "I'm sorry that I never got to know you, Penny."
Grabbing his tool box, he headed home. The garage was empty when he reached it. He put down his toolbox and noticed that the light on the coffeepot was on again. He looked out and saw that the cord went over to Claire's house. He said, "I hope they got her permission to do that."
"They did," Abby said having walked up behind him. She looked at his face and noticed that there were tear streaks on it.
Jack poured a cup of coffee and looked in the crock pot. There was still a little oatmeal left. There was a pile of bowls and some spoons. Using a ladle, he shoveled out a spoonful into a bowl. After grabbing a spoon, he went over to the couch. Sitting down, he said, "I'm sorry. That just made me mad."
"I can understand that," Abby said. She poured a bit of coffee and sat down on the couch opposite him.
Jack ate a bite of the oatmeal and grimaced. He asked, "Is there any milk?"
"Not anymore," Abby answered. There had been some milk out earlier, but it had disappeared about the same time that most of the oatmeal had been consumed.
He got up and went over to the table. He poured a bit of sugar over the oatmeal trying to do something to improve the flavor. He returned to the couch and took another spoonful of hot cereal. It wasn't much better with sugar on it, but there was no way that he was going to let food go to waste when he was hungry and broke.
Abby watched him eat. She could imagine how bad the oatmeal tasted. It had sat there for more than an hour. She asked, "It is Saturday. What are you going to do?"
"I'll mow my lawn, Claire's lawn, and the lawn next door," Jack said. There wasn't that much else that could be done that weekend.
Abby said, "I had such plans on taking a hot bath this weekend."
"Sorry. The banks really did a number on us," Jack said. He wasn't going to admit it, but he had been dreaming about taking a long hot shower sometime in the near future. He said, "I might go over to the YMCA and take a shower there."
"I didn't think of that," Abby said.
Jack sat back and said, "I've learned a lot about being poor the past year. Ever since the housing market crashed, my income dropped through the floor. I'm a good hard worker and I do quality work. There is just no work out there."
"I know," Abby said.
"I thought the election would change things. There was a lot promised about change," Jack said shaking his head.
Abby snorted and said, "The only changes that I've seen are all bad."
Jack remembered that he had left his truck at the bank. He said, "Do you think that you can take me by the bank to pick up my truck?"
"Why did you leave it there?" Abby asked.
Jack said, "There was a car that was in a bad accident. The driver had just come out of the bank and I don't think he was paying attention. I was in a state of shock and wasn't in shape to drive home after the business at the bank."
"Were they hurt bad?" Abby asked.
"I didn't go over to the car. A police car arrived before I was even out of my truck. It looked pretty bad to me," Jack answered. He wondered how much time had actually passed between hearing the crash and getting out of his truck. In hindsight, he realized it could have been thirty seconds or ten minutes. He shoveled another mouthful of oatmeal in his mouth trying to take his mind off the subject.
"I'll be glad to drive you over there," Abby said looking over at her car. She was almost out of gasoline, but wasn't going to bring it up.
"Thanks," Jack said.
Claire came in and said, "Hello, Jack."
"Good morning, Claire," Jack said rising from the couch.
Looking at the bowl of oatmeal, she said, "Wouldn't you like some milk in that?"
"There wasn't any left," Jack answered.
Claire snorted and said, "I've got gallons of it in the refrigerator."
"I didn't know," Jack said.
"You can sit down, Jack. You don't have to stand on account of me," Claire said when she realized why he was standing.
"That's okay," Jack said.
"Sit."
"Yes, ma'am," Jack said returning to his seat. Abby grinned at the exchange.
Claire said, "You kind of shook up, Bev."
"Who?" Jack asked.
"The woman who ran the cord over to Penny's house," Claire said.
"Sorry," Jack said.
Claire studied Jack for a minute while preparing a cup of coffee. She said, "Don't be sorry. It was a very thoughtless thing she did. Sometimes she doesn't use her brain when she thinks."
Jack nodded his head and took another spoonful of oatmeal. It tasted worse the colder it got. There wasn't much to say about the matter with the electric cord. He grunted rather than reply.
Claire said, "That was nice of you to fix the door."
"It was the least I could do," Jack said.
"It was a nice thing to do," Claire said. His outrage had upset the women who had been in the garage, but it had really impressed Claire. She had reminded the other women that he had gone out last night to bring them over for dinner out of concern for their well being. Despite having very little, he had opened his yard and garage to them. She reminded them that Abby had made runs to the warehouse store to buy the food and had helped cook all of those hotdogs.
"Well, I'm going mow our lawns after I'm done with the oatmeal. I figure that I'll head off to the YMCA after picking up my truck," Jack said.
She had noticed that he had suggested that he was mowing her lawn as well as his. Old prejudices about how a man was supposed to be the breadwinner and that a poor man was a failure were hard to die. Jack was doing a pretty good job of killing those old prejudices. Claire said, "We're doing a spaghetti dinner tonight."
"Just let me know what you need me to do," Jack said. There was one more spoonful of oatmeal in his bowl. Steeling himself, he dished it into his mouth.
"I'll do that," Claire said watching him. She had a feeling that he'd clean his plate regardless of how bad the food tasted. It reminded her of when she was growing up. Her mother used to tell her that if the food went on her plate then it went into her stomach. She could sit at the table all night until she ate everything on her plate.
While Jack was mowing the lawns, Abby and Claire sat in the garage. Claire said, "He's a good man."
"Yes, I think so too," Abby said. She knew that she'd be living in her car at the moment if he hadn't taken her in when he had.
"I straightened out a couple of the neighbors about the commune idea," Claire said.
Abby asked, "What do you mean?"
"They didn't think it included you and Jack. I set them straight on that right away. I let them know that it was your idea," Claire said.
"I bet that went over like a lead balloon," Abby said. The comments earlier that morning had been less than friendly.
"Some of them thought that it was a retiree kind of thing. I more or less told them that you two were in or I was out," Claire said.
"Oh," Abby said frowning. She said, "That was probably a mistake. You'd get a lot more help from them than from us."
"Who is mowing my lawn at the moment?" Claire asked.
"Jack."
"Who fixed my refrigerator without charging me for the part or the labor?" Claire asked.
"Jack."
"Who ran out yesterday and told everyone that I wanted them to come over here for dinner?"
"Jack."
"Who dropped everything and took me to the store yesterday?" Claire asked.
"I did."
"Who made a second trip to the store when we started to get low on food?"
"I did."
"Who helped set up the serving area here?" Claire asked looking around the garage.
"I did."
"That's right. It wasn't one of them," Claire said pointing a finger at Abby to drive home her point.
"Some of them helped," Abby said. She didn't know the names of most of the people who had showed up the previous evening. There were six or seven who had immediately gotten to work in the kitchen.
Claire smiled and said, "I noticed who did what and when. I'll give everyone a chance to help out. The ones who pitch in will be a part of the commune. Those who don't lift a finger can suck eggs as far as I'm concerned."
"That makes sense," Abby said thinking that Claire was rather feisty at times.
"Don't worry. Some of the people who were here don't know us yet. We'll give them some time to show their true colors," Claire said.
"Okay," Abby said thinking that Claire's approach to finding members for the commune was rather direct and didn't allow much room for nonsensical arguments. You either showed up ready to work or you weren't let in.
"I liked that young couple that was over here with the kids. That woman had those two young boys running and fetching stuff for everyone else. That nine year old was cute walking around with the pitcher of ice tea making sure that everyone had enough to drink. She's raising them to be gentlemen," Claire said with a smile.
"I noticed," Abby said. "The husband left early."
"He was embarrassed to be here. He believes that a man is supposed to support his family. I imagine that he was really depressed about the whole thing," Claire said.
"I was talking to her. She told me that they had gotten a balloon mortgage when they bought the house. The rate on it went up again and it ruined them," Abby said.
Claire said, "The whole idea of a balloon mortgage is criminal. It starts out as an admission that the borrower can't afford the house."
"I never thought about it that way," Abby said. She had actually thought about using one of those special deals to buy a house at one time.
"It is a con. The bank sucks the buyer in with promises of low payments. They let the buyer pay on the house until the interest rate increases to the point where they can't pay anymore. The bank then steals the house from them and sells it for more money than the original loan since the value of the house has increased," Claire said in disgust.
"It does sound criminal when you put it that way," Abby said.
"It sure backfired on them when price of real estate dropped," Claire said with an angry little laugh.
"They were stuck with bad loans and worthless houses," Abby said.
"Used car salesmen," Claire said with a snort.
Abby said, "I wonder what kind of mortgage Jack has."
"He got a regular mortgage when he bought the house and refinanced it when the interest rates dropped," Claire said. She remembered him telling her about it one afternoon when she had spotted him in a sports coat and tie.
Abby said, "That's good."
"Is this commune idea that you have going to allow us to keep our houses?" Claire asked. She had announced the formation of the commune without actually understanding what it involved.
"Sure," Abby said confused by the question.
"You weren't expecting me to move in with you?" Claire asked.
Abby shook her head. She said, "Your house is yours. The commune is about pooling our resources so that we can make it through the tough times. It is about being able to buy food in bulk so that it is cheaper for everyone. It is about being able to get by with fewer cars. It is about each person being able to chip in with some skill or service that none of the others possess."
"Speaking of food, we have a problem," Claire said.
"What?" Abby asked.
Claire said, "We had almost a hundred people show up last night. After getting an inventory of what everyone has, we've only got enough food for three days. I have nine hundred dollars left of the original thousand. That includes the two hundred that young man dropped off. I don't know how we're going to manage to feed everyone for ten days."
Abby said, "We'll have to serve spaghetti, noodle soup, oatmeal, bologna, spam, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We might be able to get some good deals on bushels of fresh vegetables from the farmer's market. A couple loaves of bread go far."
"Let me rephrase it. We have to spend a dollar a day per person for food," Claire said. She had no idea how they could do that.
"I don't even know if that is possible," Abby said feeling depressed. She knew that things were a lot more expensive buying them packaged in individual packages. The giant sized items had only cost four times as much as the individual serving, but served six times as many people. Still, that wasn't enough to cut the cost down to a dollar a day per person.
Nodding her head in agreement, Claire said, "I'll do the best that I can, but I fear that the last three days will be pretty bad."
"We'll do the best that we can," Abby corrected.
"You're right. We'll do the best that we can," Claire said with a smile. She wondered how her parents and grandparents had managed to survive the great depression. She figured that she'd be learning that soon enough for herself.
"I hope something will turn up," Abby said biting her lower lip. There was always the possibility that she would end up working a night or two in the massage parlor giving happy endings for the extra tip.
After Jack finished mowing the lawns, Abby gave him a ride to where his truck had been parked overnight. Someone had tried to break into the carry chest in the back of his truck. Jack looked at the damage without saying a word. There wasn't too much he could say. He got in his truck and drove off to the YMCA.
Abby sat in the parking lot looking at the ice cream parlor across the street thinking it would be years before she would be able to afford going in for a scoop of ice cream. She noticed that the parking lot of the shopping center looked nearly deserted which was strange for a Saturday morning. Normally it was difficult getting a parking space. She muttered, "I bet half the stores will be closed six months from now."
Starting her car, she drove back to the house thinking that it had become impossible to make any kind of financial plan. Wanting to get her mind off of the depressing subject, she turned on the radio. There was a news announcement stating that the banking regulation that had caused so much trouble the previous day was canceled. She looked at the radio and said, "I'll believe that when I get my money out of the account."
Abby returned home and cold washed the cups and glasses that had accumulated on the counter next to the sink. Once that little task was done, she wandered around the house looking for something else to do. She had washed the laundry earlier that week. Jack was a rather tidy person and there wasn't a mess to clean up. Without electricity there was no television to watch or music to play in the background. She couldn't vacuum the carpet for the same reason.
There was nothing to distract her from her depression. Giving into it, she went into her bedroom and curled up on the bed. Crying, she said, "I used to have such dreams."