Ever since we moved to Maine, my dad had trouble finding jobs. The reason we moved in the first place was because he hated his (well-paying!) job in Colorado.
Well, when I had just turned 11, my dad moved to California. That's a long way from Maine! He moved because he hated his job in Texas, so he started looking for jobs around town. We knew he quit when I came home from school and found everything that was in his office on the floor. At first I didn't understand, for he had never actually told us he quit (that means he might've been fired!), but after about 3 months of him staying home all day and reading books about finding the job for you, I kind of got the drift.
My sister and I were frustrated with him. We were mad that he never told us that he didn't have a job, and mad that he never discussed it with the family. It was terrible, and since we could only live off of what my mom had to offer (she worked, too), we couldn't afford nice clothes, even though we definitely demanded the best things.
I was over at my best friend's house one day, and we decided to go swimming. I had told her all about my dad, and our financial problems, so she understood when I complained to her about it. He had just gone on a trip to the southwest, California.
"I think we're moving to California." I said, dully, sitting next to her on the steps at the shallow end of her nice, long, expensive pool. She seemed to be able to afford everything, just because her dad was the CEO of a major oil company. Lucky her.
"Why?" she said, moving closer to me, her voice sounding very concerned.
"He's been down there for a while. I don't want to leave you! Or the school!" I shouted, suddenly furious with him, and my mom, and everybody!
"You won't Ginger, you can't!" she said, hugging me.
That night, I fell asleep wondering. What if I did move? What if I had to leave my beloved best friend?
That was about 2-3 years ago. How foolish I was then. A couple months ago, things got much worse. My dad was already in California (told you so) and had a job there. He's been gone for 2 years, and I miss him. A LOT.
One night I was about to go to bed when my mom told my sister and I she had to tell us something very important.
"Girls, we've been spending a lot lately, and well, since your father and I are a little behind on the house payment, and every payment, the big people told us they might take our house. But, we decided that that wasn't an option. So, we filed for bankruptcy."
GASP! I couldn't believe what my mother had just said! Bankruptcy? The big B!? After the lights were out, and my mom had finished discussing our spending boundaries with us, hot tears dripped out of my eyes. How could we be bankrupt? What did we do? What if they took our house?
Things are a lot better now, but every time I hear the B word, you know, I sort of cringe. Whenever I walk around school, I feel like everyone knows my secret, but they don't. I hate it, and I wish we were rich, but I feel lucky to own Abercrombie & Fitch t-shirts, and Gap jeans. I haven't really changed since she said that; I mean, what am I supposed to do? Become depressed?
All that I have to say to you, is that if you are having problems like this, y-mail me at lizqt. I will answer you there. I know how you feel, and you shouldn't feel bad.
