"I know that, Sis, and I wouldn't ask, but we don't have nothing left to borrow against this house."

"Then tell me, what did he do?"

"He got caught supposedly selling something to somebody he shouldn't have been selling it to."

"You mean as in drugs?"

"It was just marijuana. And he didn't have that much on him. But it was a few too many joints. Can you help us out or not, Savannah? We're going crazy back here trying to figure out what to do. And GoGo is a wreck."

What I'm thinking is: just just marijuana? And poor GoGo is a marijuana? And poor GoGo is a wreck wreck? I swear to God. On top of this, after taking out a second mortgage and paying off Isaac, I ended up with about eighteen thousand bucks, which I decided to use to pay off a few credit cards and the balance on my Land Rover and to surprise Mama by sending her a few extra dollars to play with. I've also been thinking about taking a long-overdue vacation-anywhere-to celebrate my new life. However, I do have an open line of credit at my credit union. So what the hell. Family is family. "How soon do you need it?"

"How soon can you get it to us? And thank you so much Savannah. GoGo will thank you personally."

"That won't be necessary. Anyway, I'll Federal Express a check today."

"Can you make sure it's certified?"

"Of course."

"You know, it still might be a good thing for him to come out there, even if it's just for a week. GoGo is very interested in entertainment."

"That's an understatement," I say. "Maybe next year, Sheila. Love you."

I sit here for a few more minutes thinking this is why prisons are so over-populated with black men. This is how it starts. It breaks my heart, how easy breaking the law is for some of us. And how hard it is to deal with when they get caught. On one hand, I now wish GoGo had made it out here. Of course, I have no clue what to talk to a seventeen-year-old black boy about, but I think I would've come up with something that wouldn't have landed him in jail.

I feel like sliding back under the covers. I think I might be somewhat depressed. I've got all the symptoms. Some mornings it's been hard rolling out of bed, and regardless of what time I go to sleep I still feel sluggish when I wake up. There is no pep in my step and I don't get all that worked up over too much of anything these days.

"The going rate for post-divorce depression is two years," Thora had said right after mine was official. "But there are things you can do to speed up the process, especially since you don't have kids. Count those seven months you were separated and add the year or two you were biding your time before you took that leap. All of this knocks off a lot from the time you need to get used to being single."

I nod.

"The stages of grief are the same as when someone close to you dies but after you accept that you aren't a failure at love, and that you wanted to end your marriage because you were unhappy, you can actually begin thinking of being happy again. It's a chance to build a new life, and hopefully with someone else one day."

"How do you build a new life?" I remember asking, not like she was a divorce guru or anything.

"You're already doing it," she said.

I wasn't completely sure what she was talking about because I didn't know what I was doing. I do know I've had a lot of things on my mind, although not enough to warrant this kind of lethargy. I pray I don't have cancer. Or a brain tumor. Or-what is it called?-narcolepsy. During lunch, I have found myself putting my head down and actually dozing off. I mean, I'm always doing research for two or three potential stories-which is pretty normal. I'm also trying to figure out when I might be able to get back to Pittsburgh to see everybody. And I want to take a class.

Since Isaac has been gone I've had to get used to a lot. Besides not having him to complain about, I've had to get used to doing almost everything alone: eating, sleeping, watching television, cooking, getting my truck washed, getting the oil changed. I realized how much stuff Isaac used to do around here and how little I actually know how to do. I am not good with tools. I don't like the shapes of most of them, except the hammer. That's an easy one to use. I've been amazed at how many things require tools. Even simple stuff. I'm tired of paying the handyman and I wonder if they have classes to teach you how to fix stuff around the house, especially if you don't have a husband to do it. I can't help but be reminded how Mama always used to sing, "It's so nice to have a man around the house . . ." even though she never had one.

After finishing my coffee, I still feel like curling up for another twenty minutes. But I don't. I have to stop by my dry cleaners because they sent me a notice telling me I've had some things that have been there since right after the New Year. I stop by my credit union first, and then pick up the dry cleaning. There are a lot more clothes than I'd thought. I hang them in the back and then feel a sudden sense of dread coming on. I just remembered Thora's bringing her four-year-old twin boys in this afternoon. They're the most spoiled-rotten little kids I've ever been close to in my life. For the life of me, I cannot remember their names. I decide to call Sally, one of the other producers. She'll know. "Hey there, Sal," I say when she answers. "I've got a question for you, but please don't let anyone know I asked, okay?"

"Okay. Is this juicy? If so, I'm loving it!"

"Not even close. What are Thora's boys' names?"

"Oh, fuck. Those little monsters? I'm thinking. I know it starts with a 'J' but she should've named them Jason I and Jason II. Hold on a sec, Savannah, and let me ask Richard."

In the rearview mirror, mixed in with my dry cleaning, I spot Isaac's yellow shirt, black linen slacks and the mint green linen sports jacket I always loved him in. I'm surprised he hasn't asked about them after all this time. I suppose I could call him and just tell him I'll leave them with the receptionist or something.

"The little devils are Jake and Joshua. See you soon. Oh! Could you stop at Starbucks and pick me up a cappuccino? I'll reimburse."

"No problem, Sally."

"Breve."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm ashamed to admit it, but it means they use half and half instead of milk."

"You're skinny. You can afford it."

"Thanks."

She didn't bother to comment about me being thin, of course. As soon as I get over boredomitis-and now divorcitis-I intend to start taking much better care of myself.

I sneak into the studio and hand Sally her coffee and head back to my office. I actually broke down and bought one of those delicious apple fritter things because it was beckoning me. I also decided to try that breve drink. It was like an orgasm in a cup. (It's been eight months.) I'm not getting into the habit of eating or drinking this stuff. Not even.

Oh-oh! Here they come. "Hi, Thora," I say with feigned enthusiasm. She's got them by their hands. They dash into my office, and just stand there and stare at me like they've never seen me or a black person before. Thora acts like she's afraid of them. These kids think the world revolves around them, that they should get whatever they ask for when they ask for it. They don't know or care what the word no no means. Imagine what sort of men they're going to turn into. The kind we end up marrying and divorcing. means. Imagine what sort of men they're going to turn into. The kind we end up marrying and divorcing.

"Say hello to Savannah, boys."

"Hello, Savannah," they say simultaneously. She should stop with the plaid shirts and those coverall shorts. And wash their sneakers or buy new ones, for crying out loud. Their pacifiers are hanging around their necks. I wish I could take the scissors I'm looking at and cut them off.

"Savannah, would you mind terribly if the boys stayed in here for a few minutes while I run to the ladies' room?"

"No, I don't mind."

"Oh, before I forget. Jasper wants to know when we could set something up for you two to meet. Did you ever Google him?"

"I hate to admit it, but I haven't gotten around to it. I did see the picture you sent. He's a handsome man."

"I'll tell him we might be able to work something out soon. How's that sound to you?"

"Foreign." I haven't figured out a polite way to tell her I'm not interested in meeting anybody yet. On the other hand, I also don't know when you're supposed to know.

"I think it's exciting. Okay, boys, promise Mommy you'll be on your best behavior until I get back?"

"We promise," they say simultaneously. I find this to be spooky. They push those pacifiers into their mouths and start pressing the keys on my laptop.

"Please don't touch those keys," I say.

One lets his pacifier fall on his bib. "Why not? Mommy lets us!" "Because you could break it."

"Then you get it fixed," one says and shoves that pacifier back into his mouth.

"Why do such big boys like you still suck on pacifiers?"

"Because we like them." They say this in sync.

"But I thought they were for babies."

"We are babies," they say together.

"I thought you were four years old."

"We are. Four-year-old babies." One speaks for both this time.

I didn't dare ask about those pull-ups they still sleep in at night. When I started chuckling under my breath, they didn't. I was thinking that if they'd had my mama for a mother, she'd have snatched those pacifiers out of their mouths as soon as they could say a whole word, thrown those things in the trash and dared them to cry.

Dilbert sets a stack of mail on my desk and salutes the twins. They lick their tongues out at him. He winks at me while shaking his head. He has a crush on me and about six other women who work here. Dilbert is old enough to be my grandfather. I wink back. The boys start flipping through my envelopes like they must do at home, and when I recognize the logo from my credit union, I pull it out, open it and read: Dear Member:Our records indicate one or more payments remain due for the loan shown above. Perhaps this matter was simply overlooked. As co-borrower, you are equally responsible for payments on this account. Please be advised that thirty day or more delinquencies become a part of your permanent credit file. As required by law, you are hereby notified that a negative report reflecting on your credit record may be submitted to a credit reporting agency if you fail to fulfill the terms of your credit obligation. This is an attempt to collect a debt. We thank you for giving this account the prompt attention it deserves. Please do not hesitate to call us at the number below.Sincerely,Asset & Recovery Department "Oh no the hell you didn't, Isaac!"

"That's a bad word!" one of them says.

"Hell yeah it is!" the other one says, and they both start laughing.

Thora appears in the doorway. "I'm going to make the rounds with the boys, and they said they want to go to the park so it looks like I have to take them. Let's talk next week about the domestic violence piece. We'll stop by and say goodbye on our way out. Right, fellas?"

They just look at me over their shoulders as they leave. I want to lick my tongue out at them, but of course I don't. I dial the number at the bottom of this letter. Of course I get a computerized voice who asks me to punch in my account number. When I hear how delinquent my my loan is-three fucking months-I feel myself going ice cold. I don't believe this son-of-a-bitch! Not once did it ever occur to me that Isaac would default on this loan. He knew that if he ever missed a payment, I, as the co-signer, would be the one stuck paying it. I feel like I could detonate. loan is-three fucking months-I feel myself going ice cold. I don't believe this son-of-a-bitch! Not once did it ever occur to me that Isaac would default on this loan. He knew that if he ever missed a payment, I, as the co-signer, would be the one stuck paying it. I feel like I could detonate.

I call him on his cell and am shocked to hear, "I'm sorry but that number is no longer in service. Please check the number you are calling and-"

I try not to slam the phone down and place it as gently as possible in the cradle but then snatch it back up and dial his mama. She answers on the first ring. "Hello, Teretha. This is Savannah. How are you?"

"I'm doing just fine. And yourself?"

"I'm doing pretty good. Look, it seems like your son has gotten some urgent mail I think he might want to know about. But his number's been changed. Do you have his new one?"

"I sure do. He'll probably be glad to hear from you. He's not doing so well."

"Is he sick?"

"Not that I know of."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it's not his health. Can you give me the number now, Teretha, because I have to be somewhere in ten minutes."

She rattles it off and I tell her another lie about taking her to lunch or something. I dial the new number. It rings twice. "How you doing, Savannah?"

"Not so good. You probably know why I'm calling, don't you?"

"I have a pretty good idea."

"Why haven't you been making the fucking payments on the loan?"

"Do you have to swear?"

"Yes, I do. Answer the fucking question, Isaac."

"Because I've been having some financial difficulties."

"I just lent your sorry ass three thousand dollars. What did you do with it that fast?"

"I had a few other pressing issues."

"More pressing than your bills?"

"I got hurt."

"Well, so did I, but I still pay my bills."

"My back went out."

"Sorry to hear that. Isn't it always the back, Isaac?"

"I might end up being on disability for a while."

"Did your fingers get hurt, too? Out of common fucking courtesy, why couldn't you have picked up the phone and just told me you couldn't make the payments? Huh?"

"Because I was trying to make them."

"My credit union doesn't count 'trying' as a payment, Isaac. Should I just add this to the long list of parting gifts? I thought we were going to be civil about this."

"I'm trying to be civil, Savannah. There's a chance I might end up being forced to retire."

"Well, yahoo. Did you have to go to the hospital?"

"No."

"Have you had an MRI?"

"No."

"So what makes you think you might need to retire? Are you seeing a spiritual guide or something?"

"I could recover, but right now I just don't know."

"Hypothetically, do you really think at forty-nine you could actually retire, Isaac?"

"I don't know. There may be other options. I'll have to wait and see. I'm just trying to figure a lot of things out."

"Well, join the club. What about your bills? How do they fit into your plans for the near future, huh?"

"I might have to file Chapter Seven."

"File WHAT?"