We act as though comfort and luxury were the chief requirements in life, when all we need to make us really happy is something to be enthusiastic about. (Charles Kingsley)

 Rider came over for our monthly family dinner later that week.

“How’s school?”

“Good.”

“How’s life?”

“Good.”

Followed by:

“How’s work?”

“Good.”

“How’s life?”

“Good.”

“Here’s the money.”

This time went a little different. Rider was troubled about something. He didn’t want to tell me but I beat it out of him.

“There’s a minor issue.”

“With what? Is it the apartment building?”

“No, it’s, uh, it’s the money – the debt.”

“That the boys owe our Vietnam friends?”

He nodded silently.

“I thought that was almost paid off.”

“They are screwing us. Bad.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They’re charging us interest.”

“So, that shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Oh Honey,” he sighed. “It’s not a bank loan. They don’t play by the rules.”

“They govern themselves, I get it. I’ve heard it all before. So what do we do?”

He shrugged.

I shrugged back at him angrily. What kind of response was that?

“I’m going to Philly this weekend to talk to Senior.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, Honey, I need you to stay here.”

I hated being told what to do.