A Little More Than Convenient

|Carmen Sanchez|
Eleven new messages.
This is Manson Hack from MasterCard in regard to Miss Carmen Sanchez’s September 2011 bill. It is overd-
Delete.
Miss Carmen Sanchez? This is Beth Cadence from Visa and I am calling concerning your August and September 2011 bills. They are long overdue and-
Delete.
I am Frank Dwyer from American Express-
Delete.
Miss Carmen Sanchez? I am calling from Discover-
Delete.
This is Terrance Curtis from Liberty Bank, Carmen Sanchez. You need to call me, as soon as possible to discuss your account. It is very important so that we can set up a meeting. Ask for me, Terrance Curtis. Bye.
Beep.
Carm, please call me! I’m thinking about pink chiffon dresses, but then, it’s a Christmas theme, so I don’t know...this is so freaking hard. Why did I start this?! Marriage is for the mother-, oh sorry, it’s for the birds. Damn this! God, please call me before I stab my-
Beep.
Carmen, dear, call your sister. She is, to put it gently, driving me insane. I told her that she was rushing this, and yes, I love Stephen, but isn’t it a bit soon? Anyway, have you paid your bills yet? I fear that you’re digging a hole you may not get yourself out of. Sigh. Sweetheart, once you call Lizzie, please call me.
Beep.
I’m calling for Liberty Bank. Miss Sanchez, we really need to schedule a meeting, preferably today. Call Terrance Curtis at 935-4562. Thank you.
Beep.
Carmen, please pick up the phone. I know I screwed up, but I still love you, I promise. You know I’m an idiot, but I’m an idiot who loves you...
Delete.
Carmen, I know your ignoring me, but really, there’s no need to. Remember, I said I love you, and I’m trying so hard to fix this. Can’t you see that? Sigh. Call me, Carm.
Delete.
Carmen! Stop ignoring me, seriously! Man, I know I hurt you, but now you’re just being childish. Remember, I love you, so you, like, really need to call me! All right, bye.
Dee-lete.
End of messages.
I sighed, picking up the phone and securing my bath robe around my waist. I called my sister, Elizabeth (Lizzie) first. I was sure that she was just being dramatic about her upcoming wedding, but at any rate, she sounded like she needed someone to talk to. Not a very huge surprise, actually.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Stephen,” I replied, “Lizzie called, and she sounds like she’s freaking out again.”
He sighed. “Yes, she is.”
“Wedding jitters?”
“I guess. She’s sitting on the toilet, applying lipstick over and over, and saying, ‘I can’t do this!’ repeatedly.”
I almost laughed, but I held it in. “Okay, let me talk to her.”
I listened as he tried to hand the phone to Lizzie. “Liz, it’s Carmen.”
“I don’t feel like talking!”
“Lizzie, she’s on the phone right now. Talk! To! Her!”
She grumbled loudly, but grabbed the phone. “Hello!” she shrieked into the phone.
“Ow!” I exclaimed, “Calm down, Liz! You’re the one who called me, remember?”
She scoffed, “Right, whatever.”
I ignored her sarcastic tone. “Okay, what’s the matter? Pink chiffon, really?”
“I don’t know! It’s so hard to choose!”
“Red, green, white, gold,” I said, expressionless.
“Why?”
“It’s Christmas themed, so everything will have that motif, Lizzie.”
She was silent, as if pausing to contemplate this. “All right, but if this screws up, I’m blaming you, all right?”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”
“We’re going dress shopping today, okay? At two-thirty.”
“We are? When did I agree to this?” 
 “Just now. Ta-ta!”
“Bye,” I replied, sighing.
I hung up with her and began my next call. Kira Sanchez was my mother. Of course, here she was prodding me to call Lizzie. She thinks we can’t handle things by ourselves, but that’s probably because she has empty nest syndrome, even though I’ve been out of the house for seven years, and Lizzie’s been out for six. She still has my dad, but I think she should get a job.
“Hello, dear,” she answered. Well, caller ID.
“Hi, Mom, you called?”
“Yes, in fact, I did. Did you call your sister?”
“Yes, I did. She’s fine, now. I convinced her to get Christmassy colors, and we’re going dress shopping later today.”
She gasped. “That’s too bad. I’d planned on going with you, but I’m having a luncheon to prepare for. It’s for the ladies at the country club.”
I silently thanked God for this. Not that I don’t love my mom, it’s just, I really hate shopping with her. She has an opinion about everything, vetoes every store I want go into, and complains for coffee after a couple hours. “Yeah, too bad. Look, Mom, I’ve got a few more calls to make, so...,” I trailed off.
“All right, I have some more preparations to make, so I need to go, too.”
“Well, bye, Mom.”
“Goodbye,” she corrected, “and goodbye to you.”
Who else had called? Credit cards, bank, and...Christian. Like there was any chance of me taking that son of a bitch back. What exactly did he do? Hmm, what did he not do? Cheated all the time, came home at 2 am smelling of booze and weed, stole from my parents, and countlessly dumped me, and all but forced me to take him back. Two weeks ago, I officially broke up with him. Almost every day he’s left me messages, saying how much he loves me, how much he misses me, how much he needs me, blah, blah, blah. I’ve yet to call him back, I’ve even sent back the dozens of roses he sent me, without opening the card. Luckily, he’s yet to come to my apartment, because if he did, I’d call the police in a heartbeat. Or the landlord, same difference.
I decided then, to call the bank. I knew they were calling about my many past due bills, but I honestly didn’t want to hear it. I still had student loans to take care of, and lots of credit card debt. I had a bit of shopaholic in me (not too much), and plastic money had been my favorite thing in college. Speaking of college, I’ve been out for three years, but I still don’t know what I want to do. I majored in business, minored in advertising, and I work as a receptionist at the bank at the Mall at Turtle Creek. I like the job, don’t get me wrong, but I wish that I was ascending the corporate ladder, not helping people open accounts, and take care of other people’s cash.
“Liberty bank, Hannah speaking, may I help you?”
“Yes, please, I’m supposed to call about my account. Oh, and I’m supposed to ask for Terrance Curtis.”
Hannah paused. “All right, hang on a few minutes,” then, she put me on hold, and I listened to the hold recording while she got ahold of Terrance.
Our goal at Liberty Bank is to take care of all your banking needs...
“Terrance speaking,” I snapped back to reality.
“Um, this is Carmen Sanchez. You called for me to set up a meeting?”
He cleared his throat. “That’s correct, ma’am. I can’t discuss a lot of this over the phone, because I have paperwork to show you. But, I will say that the meeting is about your-”
“Debt,” I replied, “I know.”
“Right,” he replied, “could we please schedule a meeting?”
“Sure,” I replied reluctantly, “when?”
He paused. “If possible, could you come today?”
I sighed. “All right then, what time?”
“Nine-thirty? Ten-ish? Before we close.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
“Okay, I will see you then, bye.”
“Bye.”
We hung up and I went to get ready. I first went and curled my hair into little ringlets, not that I really needed it. My hair is naturally curly. Then, I went to my closet and selected a chocolate brown colored knee length skirt. Since it was cold, I selected a thick beige cardigan, with a cream camisole under it. I paired that with brown tights and brown pumps and a caramel scarf. To finish it off, I added hoop earrings and a long, camel-colored coat. Then, I headed back to the bathroom to put on my makeup. After grabbing my purse, I walked to the end of the hallway to the elevator, and pushed the L button for lobby. Into the parking lot, I found my midnight blue car. It was a Volkswagen beetle bug far away from the building. Of freaking course.
I’d always been paranoid about kidnappers, rapists, and murderers. At least it wasn’t nighttime, though. I’d read in a Style article about how you can protect yourself from criminals, and apparently, your high heel shoes can be used as a multipurpose lethal weapon as an eye jabber, a stomach-bludgeoner, a head-slammer, etc.
I started my car and turned to radio 101.7 KIYS FM. “Yoü and I” by Lady Gaga. I sang loudly along. Don’t laugh, but I love Lady Gaga. I have three favorite types of music, and one artist (or band) that is my favorite. Pop, rock, and rap. Lady Gaga’s my favorite pop, Nickelback is my favorite rock, and Eminem’s my favorite rap.
Well, there’s a red light. Gotta do something to past the time. “There’s something, something about this place. Something ‘bout lonely nights, and the lipstick on your face. Something, something about my cold Nebraska guy. There’s something about, baby, you and I!”
I turned to my left and saw two guys about my age, staring at me, mouths gaped open. I flipped him the bird and spun past them to the bank.
***
As soon as I reached the bank, I walked to the front desk and said, “I’m supposed to be scheduling a meeting with Terrance Curtis?”
A woman with blond hair and a ponytail looked up from filing her nails, chewing her gum, and reading the latest issue of In Touch Weekly. She pointed to the elevator. “He’s on the third floor, first door on the left side.” She went back to her magazine and chomping at her gum.
I sighed and walked up to the elevator and pushed the 3 button. An elder man stepped out as I walked in, grumbling about gas prices. Because of this, I was the only one. I should’ve mentioned it earlier, but I’m a little terrified of elevators. The way they move up and down, and the way they tremble! Ugh, it drives me crazy!
As I reached the third floor, I passed a very good looking guy dressed in a black suit. My day was looking up. The guy smiled, and I smiled back, and that was the end. Terrance Curtis was a middle-aged, black man who wore slacks and button down shirts. I knocked on his door, he looked up, and said, “Are you Carmen Sanchez?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Great,” he replied smiling. Then he gestured toward the chair in front of his desk. “Please, have a seat.”
I obeyed and said, “Thank you.”
His expression went sour. “Miss Sanchez, I’m sure you know that you’re in debt.” He folded his hands.
“Yes,” I replied, sighing, “I know.”
“If you get any more in debt, you may have to file for bankruptcy. As you probably know, this will pay off all of your debt, but it will destroy your credit score.”
“I know,” I replied, “I’ve checked into it before.”
“Do you have a payment plan?” he asked.
“No, I replied, “I don’t. See, I’m trying to pay off student loans and a lot of college credit card bills.”
“I see,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Well, I just wanted to inform you of this.”
“I know,” I replied, “and I am going to do whatever I have to, to pay off these bills.”
He smiled. “I sincerely hope so, Miss Sanchez.”
“Well, if that’s all,” I said, standing up.
“It is,” he replied, “if you have any questions, any at all, please feel free to call me.”
“I will,” I replied, answering the door, “Thanks for caring this much.”
He smiled and waved, “It’s my job.”
I walked out and thought, well, I’m screwed.