Fickle Fortunes

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The palm reader giggled as he ran a finger over my hand. “You’ll be poor and you’ll be rich, but you’ll always be bad with money. Fortunately, you’ll also always have someone to take care of you.” I rolled my eyes. I just wasn’t that kind of girl.

We were once so broke that we’d swipe the Sunday paper from the stand at the grocery store, just for the coupons we needed, then return the rest before checking out. We only ever did it on Monday nights when the paper was half price, and we justified our theft of manufacturers’ coupons with the assertion that soon the papers would be tossed out anyway. Being backed into a corner will help you rationalize anything.

I had moved in with my college boyfriend after graduation. With our new degrees and my considerable student debt, we nestled into our first apartment, an efficiency in a Washington, D.C., suburb.

Unsure as to which field I should apply my philosophy degree, I instead latched on to the romantic notion that doing community service for a year on a poverty-level stipend was a logical first step. AmeriCorps would look good on my resume later, someone at the college career center told me. I just wanted to plant trees and have some time to think. Of course, we assumed my far better credentialed pre-med, biology major, chemistry minor boyfriend would have no trouble landing a job.

It was mid-October. He still hadn’t found work, and in his depression had taken to long mid-afternoon baths. I worried about the amount of water he was using and wondered if soaking in self-pity would only serve to further saturate his ego with despair. We were buying groceries on my credit card and hoping we could get a cash advance from his card for the rent. Of course, we didn’t tell our parents. Mine couldn’t help, and his would insist upon it. We were on our own. We’d be fine. We didn’t want anyone to know how bad things were.

And just when things got desperate, he landed a research job. It didn’t pay much, but “not much” was more than twice what I was making. He would grind fish brains and put them on slides all day. I began my graduate school applications while he set to work applying to medical school.

When we were both accepted, we celebrated with a European backpacking tour via MasterCard.