Family & money

I had to ask my dad yesterday to lend me money to pay for the part of my summer tuition that the Pell Grant won't be covering. When I first called to ask for the loan, he said, "I'm not saying yes, but I'm not saying no. I'll call you back." When he called back he said yes, and in the same conversation he went on to say no. During our first conversation, when he answered not-yes/not-no, he expelled a heavy sigh and, at the same time, asked for my address. And in the yes-then-no conversation, he said, "Mother is so skeptical." He meant his mother, my Mimi. He, I gather, had called her to ask either if she'd lend me the money or if she'd lend him the money so that he could in turn lend it to me, and she, I guess, expressed skepticism regarding my request to borrow money. I don't know the exact nature of her skepticism. I don't know whether she doubts that I'd use the money for school, whether she doubts that I'm even in school, or whether she doubts that I actually need the money. Mimi always takes note of my weight since I had Graham, and her most recent assessment was this:  "Your body must feel like you've totally deserted it." I guess she's a dualist. And maybe her skepticism is a form of philosophical idealism. Maybe she doubts the external world altogether. And maybe she meant that I've totally dessert-ed my body; if so, she's right.

Mimi and I speak regularly, and she knows the facts of my former and present life. Formerly, Aron and I were both working, had the HOPE scholarship and lived, just the two of us, in a tiny, dirty and cheap apartment. Presently, Aron is the only one with a paying job, we've both exhausted our HOPE hours, and we live, with a baby and a dog, in a larger, clean, not-as-cheap house. I'm in no way suggesting that the fact that my life has become more expensive means that I am entitled to financial help from my family—I'm not entitled to it, and I feel ashamed having to ask. All I'm saying is that if Mimi doubts that I need the money I asked her son to lend me, then she must be willfully misunderstanding my empirical situation. I'm also saying that it is simply unreasonable to not recognize that the Hall family gets poorer as it grows more mouths and backs and as its working members diminish. That's all I'm saying. But maybe Mimi isn't being unreasonably skeptical. Maybe she believes I need money and only questions how I'd spend it.

So, I addressed Mimi's more reasonable worries—that I wouldn't use the money for school, or worse, that I'm not even in school—with a single statement. My dad said his mother was skeptical, so I said to my dad:  "If she were willing to lend me the money, she could pay the school directly." He said, "Would you call and tell her that?" And because he had so sweetly agreed to help me, even saying that I wouldn't have to pay him back, I said, "Sure, I'll call her." Essentially what I'm supposed to do is try to borrow money from Mimi instead of from my dad, but just the idea of asking Mimi for a loan is way scarier than the reality of asking my dad for one, which was plenty scary itself. She believes in personal accountability. Her central political tenet is that able-bodied individuals should work and support themselves. She'd probably tell me to get a job.

Well, I already thought of that. As soon as I found out that I'm ineligible for loans this summer, I told Aron I would get a job at a restaurant and work the nights that he doesn't. He thinks it's a bad idea. He thinks it'd be bad for our marriage. I think being evicted wouldn't be too good for our marriage. A strip club downtown called Toppers is hiring; the sign says they're hiring "any." I asked Aron, "What if I got a job there?" It was a ridiculous what-if, because we both know that I even hate getting naked for showers, but Aron responded anyway:  "I wouldn't like it," he said. And I said, "I know you wouldn't. You don't even want me to get a job in a restaurant." And he said that he doesn't want me to work in a restaurant because he thinks I don't want to work in a restaurant. I'd only be doing it, he says, out of financial desperation. Well, yeah. If I worked three, seven-hour shifts at minimum wage, we'd make close to $500 a month more than we make now. And Graham goes to sleep early-ish, so I'd only be gone during two of his waking hours if I worked evening shifts. Getting a job seems like the logical thing to do.

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As I typed what I have written above, I missed a call from Mimi, who left an impatient-sounding message asking that I return her call, which I did right away. She agreed to lend me the money and said she wanted to send it directly to me, but I told her that it turns out that I won't need a loan after all, which isn't altogether true, but accepting a loan from her is not actually any less unnerving than asking for one, even though she was very nice about it. (Aron and I have a plan, a good one.) Mimi admitted to feeling reluctant initially to lend me the money, but she vehemently denied that she doubted I would spend the money on school. She said she was reluctant initially because she wanted me to take the summer off. Here's how hard it is to be a stay-at-home mom:  being in a Latin class four hours a day feels like taking a break. Women who strip surely have bathroom and lunch breaks. Mothers may, but they also may not.

Mimi asked when I'll graduate and what career I'm pursuing. These have become extremely vexing questions. I'm trying.