Only the Rain(23)

“Okay,” I said. “Then I guess I don’t know what it is you do want me to do.”

“Sometimes all I want is for you to listen,” she said.

So that’s what I’d been trying to do unless she comes right out and asks for my opinion. It isn’t easy.

After a while that night she started talking about one of the other bank tellers, a woman named Theresa whose thirty-six-year-old son still lived with her and had gotten some twenty-year-old who worked at the mall pregnant. Talking about somebody else’s problems seemed to calm Cindy down.

“The thing is, the girl wants to have the baby and get married, but Theresa’s son works part-time at best as a substitute teacher.”

“The son doesn’t want to get married?”

“He’s almost forty years old and living with his mother. What do you think?”

“Sounds like maybe Theresa’s going to have a couple more mouths to feed.”

“Actually she’s thinking very seriously about transferring her savings to a bank in Mexico or some island somewhere, then packing up and retiring. Leave her son to either grow up or else stew in his own juices, she said.”

“That’s how she put it—stew in his own juices? That’s pretty clever.”

“Umhmm,” Cindy said, and moved her fingertips in a circle atop my chest.

I waited until I was sure she didn’t want to say any more about it. Then I said, “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you. After I dropped Pops off yesterday, one of the other residents stopped me as I was headed for the door. He wanted my advice on what to do with all the cash he’s saved up over the years. I told him I’d ask you about it.”

“Which one was it?” she said.

“Which guy? You know, I don’t even know his name. Tall, thin guy, early eighties probably. I think he used to be an engineer of some kind. I’ve sat and talked to him a couple times when Pops would fall asleep on me, but I don’t recall I ever asked his name.”

“Well what makes him think that I would have any investment advice? I don’t know anything about investments.”

“I think he’s looking to put it somewhere safe. In a bank or credit union, something like that. It’s all in cash. Actual cash.”

“How much cash is it?”

“Sweetie, I didn’t inquire of the specifics, you know? But the way he talked, I got the feeling it was a lot. Like maybe his life savings or something. Apparently there are old people who do that. Lived through the depression, stock market collapse, and now they keep everything they have stuffed under a mattress.”

“Except that now somebody else is changing his sheets,” she said.

“Exactly.”

“So he wants to put it in the bank now?”

“I don’t know, I’m guessing. I do remember telling him about you and the girls, and I probably told him that you’re a bank teller in town.”

“We have to report any cash deposit over two thousand.”

“Report to who?”

“There’s this thing called the Suspicious Activity Report that goes to the federal government. I think that only applies to what it says, though. Money coming from a suspicious-looking person. But even if it’s not suspicious, if it’s more than ten thousand the person has to fill out a special IRS form. These days you can’t even make a lot of small deposits. That will trigger a Suspicious Activity Report too.”

“Interesting,” I said. “A guy wants to put his own money into an account, where the bank can use it and make a profit from it, and the government has to investigate him.”

“Yep. That’s pretty much the way it works.”

“So what should I tell the old guy next time I see him?”

“Personally? I’d tell him to spend it and enjoy himself. That’s one thing you can still do with real money. Actually spend it.”

“Spend it or give it away,” I said.

“Hey. Maybe he’d like to buy me a new car.”

“I’ll mention that to him.”

“Thanks,” she said, and chuckled a little. “Tell him I like the color red.”



So Cindy is sleeping finally, though I say finally only because every minute seems like an hour to me. She’s always been able to say, “Goodnight, babe,” and then roll over and go right out. Me, on the other hand, I’ve never been able to quiet my mind down that quickly, not even as a boy. Always had to play the entire day over in my head a few times, think about what I’d done wrong or should’ve done better. Up until I was fourteen or so the wrong things were usually stuff like letting a hard grounder sizzle past me, or bouncing a three-pointer off the rim. Though in high school it was all about girls, like how do I get her to notice me, did I say the right thing, should I put my hand on her breast or not. Then I enlisted and my worries were all about measuring up, not being the one who got chewed out in front of everybody. Once that fear passed I had a lot of other things to worry about, things that, when I was a kid, I’d never even imagined. Everything from camel spiders to IEDs to freezing up and getting myself or somebody else killed.

You ever dream about those spiders, Spence? I sometimes dream those scary fuckers are chasing me. Man, could they run!

But anyway, I’m back home now. And none of the really bad shit I feared over there happened to me. So when it came to this thing I’d gotten myself into with the naked girl and the money, I figured if I kept at it and worked out all the angles, I could get myself out of that mess too. Only difference now is, I’m not in this mess alone. I’m a husband and a father. This is my squad and I’m responsible for their safety.