"Why am I getting a final late notice?" I demand. "Can't you give any consideration to the fact that I've changed addresses? The mail has been sporadic and sluggish but… but my cell number and my email are the same."
"We're sorry Ms. Lisbon, but the annual fee was due on the first," the soulless cipher says.
"What's the point of requiring someone's cell phone number and email if you're not going to use them?" I'm upset. Have I screwed up my life even more than Jane screwed it up?
"We're sorry Ms. Lisbon, but the annual fee was due on the first," the affectless widget repeats.
"Please don't tell me I'm out of luck here." I'm rapidly losing the will to live.
"I'll check Ms. Lisbon." I'm put on hold. No music. No way to tell if I've been disconnected.
I pace my office. I want to kill someone. I want to kill myself. I'm sweating through my blazer. Did I unconsciously want this to happen? Did I want to extinguish this final symbol of my hope that Jane and I would be together in the end?
I've been paying this bill promptly for years. From the time I realized that I wanted him and no one else. From the time I knew it might take years for him to be available to love me back.
"Ms. Lisbon?"
"Yes, I'm here." My heart is in my mouth. I'm 42. Please don't say it's over. Please.
"Ms. Lisbon, if you can pay by credit card now including all late fees, there will be no interruption in your service."
I almost fall to my knees. I know God is good. I know I'm still in love with Jane because I still have hope.
"That's $295 for frozen egg storage plus $40 in late fees. We take Visa or Mastercard."