Two Fingers and a Thumb

     Dedicado, de nuevo, a la invencible Cristina Fallarás (@fallaras). Leed A la puta calle  (http://www.sigueleyendo.es/a-la-puta-calle-2/)

“It’s all about threes.” Luisa tapped the pen against Cath’s wrist. “It’s the third bounced check that’ll nail you.”

“Third time lucky.” Cath smiled. “I always loved the number three.”

“Three on a match,” said Luisa. “You remember that? We thought we’d get pregnant.”

“Worrying about getting pregnant, then worrying about not,” Cath said. “Seems like all we did by growing up was change one worry for another.” She fanned the pile of bills due and letters from the bank and hit the panic button. “They’re gonna take the house, aren’t they, Lu?”

“It’s the third month’s unpaid rent that lets them evict you, the third defaulted mortgage payment that forecloses your home,” Luisa quoted. She put the pen down and stroked Cath’s hand until she stilled it. “Third on a match,” she repeated. “Remember how we used to go bowling, and there was that team that practiced in the last lane?”

“They were so good.”

“Remember how they teased us about getting a turkey, and we thought it had something to do with getting pregnant, that they were a bunch of pervs?”

Cath nodded. “And Holly’s mother wouldn’t let her come for a whole month.”

Luisa took up the pen and pulled the scratch pad toward her. “Well, sometimes your luck turns and you get three strikes in a row. Almost nobody knows how or why. You just get lucky.” She began going over the sums one more time, determined to find a way out.

“Three strikes in a row for a turkey,” Cath said. “But in baseball, it’s three strikes, you’re out.” She rubbed at her eyes. “I already owe everyone and their brother money.”

Luisa stood and stretched. “You know what my Abuelita used to say? ‘Donde comen dos, comen tres’.” She gave Cat’s shoulder a squeeze. “There’s always room for one more.”

Cat leaned her head onto her friend’s sharp hipbone. “I know, Lu, and I’m grateful.” She looked up to head off a hiccup. “But for how long?”

This week,   has us talking TURKEY 3: three successive strikes in bowling

Foreclosure

   You thought you would be exhausted by now, thought the past weeks, months, years even, would leave you without the energy to be afraid. You imagined you would be drained to such an extent that when the papers finally came, when the notice was finally served, you would be able to handle it. You would be prepared. You would be ready. How wrong you were. The nerve-wracking interviews with the bank, the startled awakening to a sleep-knotted stomach, the jangling hours of insomnia were only anticipation. The underlying, ever-present dread has built up, gathered like storm clouds until you feel fear the size of a tornado grip you by the throat and shake you. And still this is only the beginning. Still to come is the day when the knock on your door will not be a bailiff delivering notice, but a sheriff to evict you onto the street.

You think: powerful beings always find a new way to dupe you, to fool you into doing something that will be the end of you. You understand how the non-entity that is you has called upon itself the wrath of this financial entity, the new century’s god, and you are powerless to do anything but bow before it, render unto it. With no patron, no backer, no governing ear, you are at a distinct disadvantage. The bank is casually balancing its books while you play monopoly.

Forget about Park Place and Marvin Gardens. The only thing giving this property substance is your name on the deed, the same name that now appears on the defaulter list at the bank, on debtor records in the courts. When you open the door of your ground-floor apartment, there is a small area enclosing the stairs in front of you, mailboxes to the right. You slam the door shut then spin the keys to lock it. You stop before the mailboxes and look at your name. You remember: Do not pass GO.

 

ANTICIPATION (noun) 3a : visualization of a future event or state b: an object or form that anticipates a later type
Your response must be between 33 and 333 words
 

Dedicada a la invencible Cristina Fallarás