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In Gold Letters

by Ruthie Alekseeva  
6/08/2024 / Short Stories

Chapter One

“Flat broke!” Danette says, her voice breaking, as she flops face downwards on her bed.

Lying motionless a moment, she rolls onto her side, drawing her knees up to her chest. Warm tears prick her eyes while anxious thoughts swirl around and around inside her burning head, churning up a nauseous storm inside her gut.

What will Hanley say when he finds out She wonders. He won’t believe it’s happened again, but it has.

Dabbing her tears with a tissue, Danette picks up her phone from her bedside table.

Swiping it open again, she rechecks the blinking numbers on her phone’s screen, displaying the amount of money still sitting in the bank account she shares with her new husband.

175.26, the numbers say.

Danette squinches her eyes closed, hunching her shoulders.

One hundred and seventy-five dollars? she sighs. Yep, those ghastly numbers are still there.

She drops her phone back onto her bedside table, then, sitting up, hugs her pillow up against her chest. Clenching it tight, she rocks back and forth.

“One hundred and seventy-five dollars and twenty-six cents,” she says, aloud, “That’s all that’s left of mine and Hanley’s pay for this week, and why? All because of this silly dress.”

Danette glares at the dress in question: a high-waisted, short-sleeved, A-line, layered-cake dress hanging on a coat hanger threaded through the handles of her wardrobe.

A layered-cake dress? What was I thinking? It looks so pretty, I know, but when will I ever wear it? Not this year. That’s for sure.

Standing up and crossing to her wardrobe, she runs her moistened eyes over the dress’s floral red, pink, yellow and green fabric.

It’s perfect for a summer garden wedding, she thinks, fingering the fabric’s petal-soft fibres. But no one I know has any plans of getting married. Not at this moment, anyway.

“Why can’t we have more money? Then it wouldn’t matter that I have, once again, overspent. Because, really, I should never have bought this straw sun hat either,” she says, picking a large round hat up off her bed. “But it looked so adorable and goes so well with my new dress.”

Danette sits the oversized, foldable, ribbon bow-knot hat on her head. Then, stepping towards the mirror, she smiles a little, admiring her image in its glassy reflection.

“It’s to die for,” she gasps, but then takes a step backwards and frowns, crossing her eyebrows.

Well, maybe not. No one wears these kinds of hats anymore. In fact, no one really wears any hat of any type at all these days. Well, not unless they’re sunning themselves down at glorious Camoola Beach or celebrating the sixties at some daggy fancy-dress party.

Creasing her brow, she flips the silly hat off her head, then flings it like a frisbee across the room as a fresh set of tears fills the corners of her eyes.

You’re so silly, Danette, she thinks, castigating herself anew. How could you have let that toffy-nosed sales assistant…Claudette was it?...talk you into it?

Danette casts her mind back a few hours earlier that afternoon when she had stopped by Vergemont Shopping Centre, only a couple minutes down the road, to buy bread and a little extra milk.

“Oh, it looks amazing on you,” Danette remembers Claudette, the Vergemont sales assistant, say.

Claudette turns to a light-haired customer attendant, only a few metres away, then, beckoning her over with one finger, says, “Don’t you think so, Tiffany?”

Tiffany’s eyes widen as a smirk dances across her lips, then disappears. “Definitely,” Tiffany coos. “That hat looks adorable on you, and have you seen this new shade of lipstick?”

“Oh, no, I haven’t,” Danette says, her eyes lighting up. “Is it a high-shine gloss?”

Tiffany shakes her head. “No, darling: a red long-wear lip stain, called Kiss Me Slow.”

“Kiss Me Slow?” Danette giggles. “I’m sure Hanley would love the sound of that.”

“Hanley?” Claudette says, raising her eyebrows.

Danette nods her head. “He’s my husband. We’re newly married.”

“Congratulations!” Tiffany says, squeezing Danette’s arm.

“Yes, yes,” Claudette chimes in. “My very best wishes, and may you both have many blissful years together.”

“Are you planning on having children, darling?” Tiffany asks.

“Oh, I hope so,” Danette says, her cheeks growing warm. “ I hope we’ll have many children.”

“Wonderful! Well, men love this colour on women,” Claudette says, focusing Danette’s attention back on the plastic tube Tiffany holds in her hand. “Perhaps, Hanley would like it also?”

Tiffany takes Danette’s wrist, then smears a streak of the red lipstick across the back of her hand.

“Wow!” Danette says. “I see what you mean. It’s a wonderful shade.” Danette pauses, chewing her bottom lip. “Well, I’m sure Hanley wouldn’t mind if I spent a little extra money today, especially if it’s something he would like as well.”

Shaking her head, Danette’s flashback ends.

“Oh, Danette,” she says, raising her hands in the air. “Why did you listen to Claudette and, even more mind bending, why did you listen to anything Tiffany had to say? Looking back, I see they’re not genuine people. They only wanted my money. I’m never going back there again not if I can help it, anyway.”

Danette steps towards the hat that has fallen on a pile of books. Picking the hat up, she turns the price tag over in her hand. Forty-five dollars ninety, she reads. Well, at least I can return the hat, but the dress? That was on sale, and Claudette said they could not give any refunds on that.

Danette pauses. Her cheeks burn then, her eyes low, she pops the lid off a black and silver shoebox lying on her bed, and pulls out a pair of camel-coloured tie-up gladiator sandals, thinking, and should I really have bought these?

She slides them on her feet and ties up the straps. “Well, of course I had to. You know me, I can’t buy only a top or a pair of shorts. I hate having tops and bottoms that don’t match. So, when I shop, I don’t only buy garments, I buy outfits.”

Danette admires the sandals, while holding her new dress against her body, imagining what the items would look like together. Then, she sinks back onto her bed.

“They were also on sale,” she says, slowly. “So, I can’t return these shoes either.”

Reaching for her tissue, she swipes at her eyes once more.

“What if we can’t afford our phone bill again, like last month? I’m sure Hanley will flip. He didn’t last time, but how patient can a man be? If only we had more money.”

Danette sighs as her stomachache returns.

“I really didn’t want my marriage starting out like this. I had hoped that I wouldn’t be the bad guy in this relationship. Not that any marriage should have a bad guy in it.”

 Chapter Two

A car engine roars up the driveway, interrupting Danette’s disturbed thoughts and shooting fresh shivers down her spine.

Oh, no. That sounds like Hanley’s Jeep. He’s home.

Tugging the dress’s straps off its coat hanger, she quickly dumps the dress back inside its pink-and-white-paper shopping bag, then pushes the bag under her’s and Hanley’s double four-poster bed, along with the gladiator sandals, straw hat and shoebox.

Kahooga! Kahooga! She hears Hanley’s altered car horn hoot.

Danette grimaces.

That usually slaps a smile on my face.  Especially back when we were dating and he would toot that funny horn every time he turned his car around the corner of my childhood street, on his way to pick me up for a date.

Closing her eyes, Danette remembers those days with fondness, which, really, weren’t that long ago now. Only six months, in fact.

I remember how, back then, that ridiculous din always shot a flutter of nervous adrenaline through my heart, then, paralysed my brain. And, at the end of the afternoon on dropping me home, he’d honk that silly car horn again. Kahooga! Kahooga! It ensured that the neighbours were always aware of his arrival and then aware of his leaving my home. And he always brought me back home on time. Not a minute before and not a minute after my father’s curfew.

Opening her eyes again, Danette steps towards her bedroom window. She pulls the breezy, white curtain aside slightly, then peeks out the window.

But that horn’s not making me smile now, though, she thinks, as she watches Hanley slide out of the front passenger seat, unlocking the garage door below her.

Having slipped his yellow jeep into the garage and closed and relocked its door again, Hanley’s cheerful whistling resonates throughout their house, growing louder and louder as he comes closer and closer to where she’s standing.

Her lips curve slightly as she recognises the tune Hanley is whistling.

La Cucaracha! The tune that cute little Mariachi band played as we ate dinner our first night together as husband and wife, in that enchanting little café in Mexico, overlooking beautiful Tortuga Beach. We loved it there.

Then, a head pops through the doorway of their bedroom.

“Hey babe; you in here?” the head says.

Danette smiles sheepishly, but says nothing.

“Oh, there you are,” he says, turning on the light. “That’s better, don’t you think? Now you won’t have to worry about werewolves.” He grins.

Danette chuckles, but her cheeks feel warm and she still doesn’t speak.

Hanley’s head disappears, then she hears the toilet door swing open, then closed.

A moment later he’s back.

Crinkling his brow, Hanley gives her a quizzical look.

“You okay, babe?” he says. “You haven’t moved from that spot since I arrived.”

Danette runs a hand through her springy brown hair. “Yes, of course, Hanley. I was simply thinking.”  

“About what?” Hanley says smiling, until his eyes narrow as he inspects her face more closely.

“Your cheeks look red,” he says, taking her hands in his, his eyebrows rising, “and your eyes look wet. Were you crying?”

“No,” Danette says, faking a laugh. “Of course not.”

“Babe,” Hanley says.

“Okay,” Danette says, raising her hands defensively. “Well, yeah, you caught me, but only a little. Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

“Wait.” Hanley grasps her hand again. “What were the tears for? I know you sometimes struggle with believing that God has really forgiven you for your sin, and you still worry that you’re on your way to Hell. Did you have another anxiety attack related to that?”

Danette swats the air with her free hand. “Oh, no, nothing like that. I was simply watching the animal channel and an eagle caught and killed this poor defenceless rodent, and then ate it, in one big gulp.

Isn’t that silly?” Danette shrugs her shoulders. “I mean it’s the food chain, the circle of life. We learnt about it in grade eight biology. It’s not something anyone should get emotional over, is it?”

Hanley hugs her tight, then brushes her cheek with his own. “Aww, babe,” he says. “That’s what I love about you. Now, are you sure you’re okay?”

Danette hugs Hanley back, saying, “Yeah, of course, Hanley. I’m fine.”

“All right then, so, what’s for dinner?”

“Oh,” Danette stutters. “Dinner, right.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, babe,” Hanley says. “I have a better idea. You’re obviously not up for cooking tonight, so how about we go out instead? I know - how about that little Brazilian restaurant you like so much? It’s on Celosia Boulevard?

“The Purple Maracujá. Right. Great idea. I do love that restaurant. Good memory.”

“Except?” Hanley asks.

Danette’s mind fills with the numbers 175.26 again: the measly amount of money still available in their shared bank account.

If we eat out tonight, we definitely can’t pay our phone bill this month.”

Danette holds her breath, wringing her fingers. Should I tell him I’ve overspent our money again?

Danette stares into Hanley’s warm brown eyes, which always look as though they're melting when his look back at hers, then snaps her eyes away again, her cheeks burning.

Wow. His eyes. So warm. So trusting. I can’t tell him what I’ve done yet. I don’t want him realising that he’s married a dud this early in our marriage.

Culminating her thoughts, this time, Danette takes Hanley’s hands in hers.

Smiling up at him apologetically, in a soft voice, she says, “I’m fine, Hanley. I can cook. Let’s have a quiet night in.”

Hanley smiles. “Cool. Sounds cozy, Can’t wait.” Kissing her on the forehead, he adds, “I’ll jump in the shower, have a quick scrub, then meet you downstairs.”

Danette breathes easier, relieved Hanley’s going along with her plans.

As she turns to leave, Hanley calls out once more. “Oh, and by the way, nice colour.”

Danette squints. “What do you mean,” she says.

“I mean, cool lipstick. Red. That’s a great colour.”

Danette shoots him a thin smile. “Thanks, she says. “I bought it at Vergemont.”

“Nice. Hope it was on special.”

Danette pauses. “Ah, kind of,” she says, then vanishes down the hallway, her cheeks burning, before he can ask any more questions.

 Chapter Three

As glittery sunbeams stream through the slats of the white shutters in the living room downstairs, Danette awakens.

Whoops, she thinks. We’ve fallen asleep on the couch again.

Sighing with contentment, she feels Hanley’s arms cupping her as he sleeps, a light snore escaping from his nose.

I love our marriage, she thinks. I wonder if we’ll always love each other like this.

Then, the numbers 175.26 shoot back into her brain, large, looming and booming, plunging her into worry and confusion all over again.

Danette groans.

Not if I keep splurging like this. What am I going to do? she wonders. How can I get my spending habits back under control?

Bleep. Bleep. Bleep, her phone alarm rings softly.

“Six am, already, she thinks.

Stroking Hanley’s arm with her fingers, Danette switches the television off.

“Bun, it’s six am. You should get up. Don’t wanna be late for work, do you?”

Hanley yawns, then hugs her tighter. “Hmm, six o’clock, already?” he mumbles.

“Yep,” Danette nods. “That’s what I was thinking. Can you believe we fell asleep on the couch again?”

Hanley yawns again but doesn’t move.

“Come on,” Danette says, stroking his arm again. “Get up. I’ll make us coffee and some toast. Do you want a hard-boiled egg also?”

Hanley stands, yawns a third time, then stretches his arms above his head.

“Nah, thanks, only the toast.”

Rubbing her behind her ear with his fingers, he asks, “So, what have you got planned for today?”

“Well, I have uni, remember? So, I’ll go to Media Ethics class. Then, hopefully, I’ll run into Valda again, and, if she has time, she’ll hopefully have lunch with me in the student lounge.”

“Media Ethics class?" Hanley says, as he walks towards the staircase that leads to their bathroom. “Cool. That sounds riveting.”

Then, before climbing the stairs, he stops, shoots her a smile and says, “I’m glad you’ve made friends so quickly. I knew you would.”

While Hanley has another wash in the shower, Danette drops two pieces of wholemeal bread into the toaster and boils a pot of water.

I know Hanley doesn’t like wholemeal, she thinks, but it’s good for him. He’ll thank me one day. No sugar in his coffee today either.

As the water in the kettle simmers, Danette strains her ears, trying to guess what each thud and clump coming from up above means.

Then, something bounces on the bathroom floor, upstairs, and makes a twirling noise.

What’s that?.

When the twirling sound slows, a new one begins. This noise, however, sets Danette’s stomach churning because it sounds as though a rolling object upstairs is traveling, with great speed, toward her and Hanley’s bedroom.

Oh, no, Danette thinks. What if that mystery object rolls into our bedroom and underneath our bed? Then, Hanley might look, and if he looks underneath our bed...?

Danette plants her face in her hands, Oh, no. I don’t want to even think about that.

“You okay, babe?” Danette hears.

Looking up, she sees Hanley has returned and is looking at her with a furrowed brow.

Danette pastes a smile on her face. “Oh, yeah,” she fibs. “Except, I have an assessment due today. I only remembered that right now. Isn’t that awful?”

“Yowch,” Hanley says, grinning. “I’ve done that before. It doesn’t feel pleasant. Well, try improving your organisational skills, then maybe it won’t happen again.”

Danette’s smile fades, then frowns at his chiding.

Hanley raises his eyebrows, inspecting her face. “Hey, babe, cheer up,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I wasn’t criticising or anything, simply showing some support.”

Hanley grins again.

“I only thought that perhaps you might still be upset about that dead rodent.”

Danette’s forehead crinkles. “Dead rodent?” she says, drawing her feet up underneath her and looking in all directions.

“Yeah, the one from yesterday that the eagle gobbled up.”

“Oh, the dead rodent from the documentary?” Danette says, her cheeks  feeling warm. “Nah, I’m golden.”

Hanley picks up his coffee cup as soon as Danette finishes pouring it.

“Thanks, for the coffee, babe. I’ll drink it in the car,” he says.

Danette pushes the plate of apricot-jam toast towards him.

“What about this?” she says.

Hanley scrunches his mouth up, grimacing.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” he says, kissing Danette on the cheek. “You know I don’t like wholemeal,” he says, then vanishes out the front door.

Danette doesn’t move until the sound of Hanely’s yellow Jeep disappears into the distance. Then, she lets out a long, loud sigh.

What a relief. I felt so sure he’d find evidence of my hidden shopping spree.

Finishing a bite of hot buttered toast, Danette stands and walks upstairs.

Now, it’s my turn for a shower and boy, do I want one. I need some thinking time.

Sometime later, Danette steps out of the shower, dries herself with a towel, then wraps it around her body.

A blue t-shirt and jeans today, she thinks, pulling them on. And slides on my feet. Now where’s the hair dryer?

Combing her dried hair straight, she ties it into a low side ponytail with a twist, Hanley’s favourite hairstyle.

Okay, now let’s get to work.

Danette crawls on her hands and knees under the bed, collecting the straw sun hat, layered-cake dress and gladiator sandals.

I’ll stash all of this in a bag, she thinks. “And let’s see if I can’t make the whole thing disappear before Hanley gets home.

 Chapter Four

Running down her street, huffing and puffing, Danette rushes around the corner of Sitella Lane, noting her bus, the 581, has arrived but sits idling, the bus driver reading a newspaper in his seat.

Great. At least something’s going my way today.”

“Good morning, Bill,” she says. “I’m glad you’re still here.”

Bill gives her a look. “I thought I should wait a little while longer. It’s not like you’re known around here for your time management skills.”

Danette pays him the fare, her cheeks warm.

“Sorry, Bill,” she says.

“It’s lucky you live in a small country town, you know,” Bill continues, as he counts out her change. “If this was the city, you know, I couldn’t have waited around.”

Danette draws her mouth into a thin line. “It’s not that small anymore, Bill,” she says. “And don’t worry. I won’t make you wait for me tomorrow. I’ll get here on time.”

Bill points at a sign next to his till, which Danette reads: “Correct Change Is Helpful.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to have the right change either,” Bill says, giving her another stern look.

Her mouth still pulled into a thin, stiff line, Danette nods and, although no other passengers sit on the bus, she takes a seat right at the back, as far away from Bill as possible.

As the bus pulls past her house, Danette wonders if blue hydrangeas and white Brugmansia flowers would look as sublime in her own front garden, as they did in her grandmother’s or maybe she should try growing yellow angel trumpets.

Deciding to discuss it with Hanley before she makes a decision, Danette pulls out a novel, eating up as many pages of the book she’s reading as she can, before her bus arrives at Cape Ashwell University.

About twenty minutes later, the bus brakes, stopping beside a park bench acting as the university’s bus stop.

As she disembarks, Bill gives her another look, points at the sign beside his till again, saying, “Remember what I said.”

Danette shoots him a look of her own, saying under her breath, “Get along, Bill.”

Walking along the pavement, Danette hears an alto voice behind her, calling out her name. Turning, Danette looks over her shoulder.

“Oh, hi, Valda,” Danette says, stopping and waiting for her friend to catch up. “I hoped that I would see you today.”

“Me too!” Valda replies.

Valda leans in close, towards Danette, and says, “Is Bill acting irregular again?”

“Why do you ask?” Danette replies.

Valda looks back at Bill, then laughs. Danette looks back also, noting Bill’s bus hasn’t moved an inch and he still sits there with his arms crossed, shaking his head at the two of them.

Smiling at Valda, Danette says, “I see what you mean. Yes, he’s still acting as though our generation are the bane of his existence. I told him off today though. But only under my breath. Do you think he heard me?”

Valda giggles and says, “Looks like it.”

Danette laughs also. Valda narrows her eyes, saying, “Did you do your readings last night? Did you read the section about the Benetton ad campaigns?”

“Whoops, no,” Danette says. “Hanley and I fell asleep on the couch again last night watching a movie.”

“Ooh,” Valda says, nudging Danette in the side. “That sounds cute, but it won’t get you an A in Media Ethics. Better not do that too many more times. Hey?”

Despite Valda’s criticism, Danette smiles. Wow, I hate it when people chide me. Hanley would never have gotten away with that, as he well knows, but Valda really mellows me out.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Danette says aloud. “Hey, Valda, do you think you can give me a quick rundown on that Benetton thing before we get to class? I hate not knowing what the lecturers are talking about.”

“Sure, Danette,” Valda says. “Last night’s readings were about the Benetton Group, a clothing design company which, in 2000, achieved a Guinness World Record for having the most controversial ad campaigns of that time.”

Danette raises her eyebrows. “Controversial in what way?” she asks.

“Controversial in that its adverts were quite graphic and their marketing techniques morally questionable and reprehensible. They’re an Italian company, but they had stores all over the world.”

“Sounds icky,” Danette says.

Valda nods her head vigorously. “It was,” she says, then continues her run down.

As Valda talks, Danette casts her eyes sideways at her.

“I’m glad I made friends with Valda.

It’s a good thing I read that article before enrolling at Ashwell that said the person you sit next to your first day in a new place usually remains friends with you until your time of parting. After reading that, I decided I’d sit down next to the most normal looking person in the room, and after knowing Valda a week or so, so far so good.

“Well, here we are,” Danette says, pushing the door of Block C’s room 108  open. “Media Ethics class, and now, thanks to you, I’m kind of prepared.”

Valda smiles, saying, “no probs, pal,” as they take seats sitting beside each other.

Danette casts another side glance at Valda, wondering if she should talk to Valda about her overspending and inability to stop herself from doing it.

She’s not married, I know, but maybe she’s had a similar problem and might have some ideas on how I can get my spending under control.

Valda smiles at Danette. “You look like you’re thinking deep thoughts,” she says.

Her cheeks feeling warm, Danette nods. “I am,” she agrees. “Do you think we could discuss them after class?”

Valda’s face becomes serious. “Uh oh,” she says. Then, she smiles and nods.

 Chapter Five

Sitting in the student lounge, Danette unwraps the sandwich she prepared that morning.

Valda takes a seat also, then swirls a teaspoon around inside her giant mug of tea.

Danette opens her mouth, attempting to voice the thoughts that had perplexed her before class that morning, but nothing comes out.

Valda swirls her teaspoon again, glancing at Danette every now and then.

Danette opens her mouth once more, but then closes it as quickly.

“So, how about Media Ethics class?” Valda says.

“Yeah,” Danette replies, breathing out slowly.

Great. Let’s start gradually. I still don’t really know Valda that well. Only a week or so now. And most likely she won’t have any helpful advice for me at all.

Valda tries again to open Danette up. “I found what Professor Dodson said about photojournalism really interesting.”

“Yeah,” Danette agrees. “I liked that picture he showed us of the barricades used during the Paris June Day Uprising of 1848.”

“For sure. So poignant. I wonder if we’ll ever shoot pictures like that ourselves.”

“Well, not me,” Danette replies. “I mean not unless we have a huge war right here in Morella Bay. You see, I’m married, and I’m hoping my husband and I will have children within a couple of years. I can’t go jet-setting around the world covering war scenes any more. In fact, I don’t think Hanley and I will ever move much further out than Dennison, if at all.”

“Wow! Kids!” Valda thinks awhile, then adds, “Yeah, I’d like to have children too someday.” She shrugs her shoulders, smiles and says, “Well, wouldn’t anyone?”

Danette nods, her eyes glowing. “Yes, they’re so cute, and I really love spending time with them.”

“What will you name them?”

“I’ve always liked Melanie as a girl’s name,” Danette says, “and Jake for a boy.”

“Melanie and Jake,” Valda says, trying the names out. “Yes, I think those are lovely choices.”

“Well, what about you?” Danette asks.

Valda creases her chin, as she thinks a while. “Hmm, I’d choose Aaron and Kate,” she finally says. “Something simple and modern. Not clunky and old fashioned like Valda.”

Danette smiles. "I don’t mind it.”

Valda smiles back at Danette, then raises her eyebrows. Facing her palms towards the ceiling, Valda lifts her elbows off the table and asks, “So, Danette, are you going to tell me?”

Her cheeks feeling warm, Danette smiles at Valda, then flicks her eyes away, hunching her shoulders. I wish I hadn’t said anything now. I hate feeling vulnerable.

Valda continues staring at Danette, her eyebrows high up on her face.

“You said before class this morning that some thoughts were bothering you.” Valda says. “You said you wanted to share them with me, remember?”

Danette remains quiet.

Valda grins. “You didn’t all of a sudden have an attack of guilt over giving Bill, the bus driver, some of his own back did you?”

Danette grins back but remains a closed book, her eyes still looking away.

Valda rests her hand on Danette’s arm. “Look, Danette. I know we still don’t know each other that well, but I like you and I hope we can have a kind of friendship where we can talk to each other about the things that bother us. Would you like that from me too?”

Danette pulls her eyes towards Valda’s and takes a deep breath. “Yes, Valda, I would like that from you too. Sorry I’m dragging my feet. I don’t like admitting that I’m not perfect.”

Valda snorts with impatience. “No one’s perfect,” she says. “So, what is it?”

Danette opens her mouth and, speaking slowly, says, “Last month, I spent a lot of money, and I didn’t spend it on important stuff like donations to charities, electricity bills or kitchen appliances. I spent it on lip gloss and nail polish and dresses and shoes.”

Valda swipes the air with her hand. “Oh, is that all?” she asks. “Everyone splurges from time to time. It’s not a big problem. Simply tighten your belt this month, and you’ll be back in the black in no time.”

“No, Valda,” Danette says. “You don’t understand. I did it again this month too and I have a terrible feeling I’ll do it again next month. It’s like whenever I’m shopping, I get this overwhelming desire to buy everything I see, and I simply can’t stop myself.”

“Hmm, okay. That’s a bigger problem then.”

“And Valda, it’s not even my money,” Danette continues. “I’m still a student, but Hanley works hard all day as a railway moulder. It’s not right for me to buy so many things. When he finds out I’ve overspent again this month, I’m sure he’ll get mad – any other guy would – and then our marriage won’t feel as wonderful anymore.”

Valda creases her brow. “Couldn’t you simply return the items that you’ve bought? I mean, you could say you’re not satisfied with them or that you’ve suddenly changed your mind.”

Danette lifts the bag she stashed the dress, shoes and straw sun hat in at the beginning of the day and places it on the table. “Well, now that you mention it, I can return this awful hat I bought yesterday, but everything else? It’s on sale and the sales attendant said, absolutely non-returnable.”

Valda pulls open the bag. “I’m not very into these sandals,” she says, “but let me try this dress on in the restroom over there. If it fits, I could take it off your hands.”

“Really, Valda?” Danette says, relief in her voice. “I’d love you for that!”

Ten minutes pass, then Valda returns. “Sorry, Danette. No cigar. The dress doesn’t fit me, but how about we stop off at the clothing shop that these items came from? I’m told I have the gift of the gab. I’m sure I could work out a deal for you.”

Danette slips her a small smile. “The sales lady was adamant, but if you think you can persuade her, I’ll give it a try.”

 Chapter Six

With Media Ethics class now over, Danette looks at her watch.

“It’s eleven am,” she says. “Valda, are you still sure you can get me a refund at that store I bought my outfit from?”

Valda smiles. “No probs at all, pal,” she says.

“And when do you think you could do that?” Danette says, smiling a small half smile, her cheeks feeling warm.

Valda stares at Danette’s helpless-looking grin. “Well, as this looks like an emergency, how about we do it now?”

“Are you sure?” Danette asks. “I don’t want to put you out.”

“No probs at all,” Valda says again. “I’ll simply push a few things around this afternoon, and I’m sure I’ll still get everything I need done today done.

“Thanks Valda,” Danette says, squeezing her arm with her hand. “You’re really turning out to be a genuine friend, but do you think we could walk there instead of catching the bus?”

“Walk to Vergemont Shopping Centre from here?” she says, raising her eyebrows.

Danette’s eyes plead with Valda’s. “Please. It’s only a couple of blocks away. Since it’s only eleven am, that means Bill will still be doing his bus route. I am beginning to feel a little guilty about how I spoke to Bill this morning. Even if he didn’t hear me, and even though sometimes he’s a pain, he’s getting older and I should show him more respect.”

Valda grimaces. “Yuck! Guilt. I hate that feeling. ”But then she chuckles and says, “I guess you’re right. How old would he be now? Seventy-three?”

Danette refrains from smiling. “That’s a bit of an overestimation,” she says. “I’d say sixty-three and it’s not like he’s getting paid kazillions for driving me around.”

“Okay,” she says. “Let’s walk. After all,  living a healthier life was one of my New Year’s Eve resolutions.”

“Wow! Love those purple, white and yellow viola flowers,” Danette says, as they walk past a well-kept garden. “I wonder if Hanley would mind if I put some in ours.”

“Oh, do you garden?” Valda asks.

“I sure do,” Danette says. “I love the smell.”

“What does it smell like?” Valda asks.

“Earthy.”

“Earthy?”

Danette nods. “You know how when you drive to the beach, the air starts smelling like sea salt?

“Sure.”

“Well, I’ve heard it’s the same the other way around. Like, if you’re cruising on a ship, once you start heading landward, the air starts smelling earthy.”

“Cool fact!” Valda says. “I’ll have to try that out sometime and see if you’re right.”

“Stepping through glass sliding doors, Danette says, “Well, here we are. Are you still sure we can do this?”

Valda smiles. “I’m the queen of confrontations,” she says.

Danette smiles back but is doubtful. “Maybe so, but these sales ladies are pushy.”

Valda hardens her face. “Well, I’m pushier. Now, let’s watch them a while. I want to know my enemy.”

They stand across the way from the shop, where a grey manikin, in a yellow and white polka-dotted dress with one pink heart at the left hip, decorates the window display.

“There’s two of them,“ Danette says, pointing at two women. “Claudette and Tiffany.”

“I see,” Valda says, ”and look at them go.”

 A woman, her arms full, stares through the shop’s window display, the words ‘Help me!’ written all over her face.

“Yes, that poor customer,” Danette agrees.

“It looks like they’re talking her into buying a lot more than what she came in for,” Valda says.

Then, the female customer dumps the items Tiffany and Claudette have loaded her arms up with on the counter, scrunches her mouth up and waves her hands from side to side.

As she leaves the store, she notices Danette and Valda standing there. Passing by, she says, “Buyer beware. They’re pushy.”

“Wow!” Danette says. “I wish I could have done that yesterday.”

“Simply dump the dress, hat and shoes on the counter and get out of there?” Valda asks.

“Yep.”

“Well, betcha you could,” Valda says, pushing Danette forward. “Give it a go.”

 Danette shakes her head. “That’s not a great idea.”

“Go on,” Valda says, pushing her forward again. “Have a try.”

“Hi, there,” Danette says, as she approaches Tiffany and Claudette. “I came in here yesterday and bought this hat, these shoes and this dress.”

“Yes, darling,” Tiffany says, smiling broadly. “You’re the newlywed with the fantastic eye for wonderfully pigmented lipstick.”

Danette smiles a half smile, saying, “Yeah, that’s me. Only, I don’t want them anymore.”

Within seconds, the welcoming smile on Claudette’s mouth vanishes. Creasing her brow, she takes Danette’s items, and snaps, “Well, why not? What’s wrong with them? Are they torn or stained or damaged in some way?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. I simply don’t want them anymore.”

Her mouth still in a straight line, Claudette says, “Well, I can give you a refund on this hat, but I told you yesterday that the dress and shoes are on sale, so there’s no refund for them.”

“Please,” Danette begs. “I’ve overspent this month. I really need the money back, so I can pay some bills.”

Tiffany crosses her arms. “Dearie,” she says. “We can’t refund your money simply because you’re short on finances. I mean, we have bills we must pay also. If we return your money and every other customer’s whenever they overspend, how will we pay our bills?”

Danette bites her bottom lip, tears welling up in her eyes.

“But,” Tiffany continues, “we’re happy to give you a complimentary perfume sampler as an act of goodwill.”

Danette takes the tiny bottle Tiffany holds towards her. “Thanks,” she says softly.

“And you might also like this wood-bead necklace,” Tiffany says. “It’s only fifteen dollars, and on sale right now. Lucky you!”

“I can’t believe this!” Danette hears a voice say from behind her.

Turning around, Danette thinks, It’s Valda. Go get ’em, girl!

 “Danette doesn’t want perfume,” Valda says. “She wants her money back. She’s in a predicament: didn’t you hear her? And despite knowing that, not only do you not return her money, but you also try bilking her out of more by suggesting she buy that hideous necklace.”

Tiffany takes a step backwards, then crosses her arms. “And who are you?” she asks.

“I’m Valda Murphy, Danette’s study partner and friend, and I want you to give her money back right now.”

Chapter Seven

Danette flips open her laptop, then waits for her screensaver to appear. Typing in her password, she dabs at her eyes with a tissue.

“Poor Valda,” Danette sniffs. “Despite her best attempts, my money stayed in Claudette’s and Tiffany’s till. Well, except for these forty-five dollars and ninety cents which Claudette refunded me for the bow-knot straw sun hat I bought yesterday.”

 Danette recalls their conversation afterward.

“What will I do now?” Danette had asked.

“Go home,” Valda said, hugging her. “Try selling it on eBay, Market Place or even Gumtree. You never know, someone might want to buy them from you.”

Danette nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

As Valda walked away, she turned to Danette and said, “Or, you could simply try telling Hanley what you’ve done. I mean, I’m not married or anything but it’s possible he might not feel as angry about it as you think.”

Now, sitting at her desk in the alcove under the living room staircase, Danette ignores her friend’s advice. Instead of preparing herself for telling Hanley the truth, she takes pictures of her unwanted dress and shoes.

I can’t tell Hanley.  I don’t want this stage of our marriage getting ruined by him knowing what I’ve done.

Then, a familiar roaring engine sounds inside her driveway, causing Danette to jump at what she is sure is Hanley’s Jeep.

Quickly, she stuffs the dress, coat hanger and shoes in the bottom drawer of her work desk.

Kahooga! Kahooga! The jeep’s horn blares, but, once again, it doesn’t spread a smile on Danette’s face.

Scurry! Danette urges, as she uploads the photos. I can’t let Hanley see me doing this.

As she hears the garage door roll open, she rushes as, with great pace, her fingers type in a description of the items she’s selling.

Next, whistling of Cielito Lindo, another happy tune Hanley and Danette had heard while in Mexico on their honeymoon, sounds throughout the house.

Uh oh, Danette thinks, as she hears Hanley’s tuneful whistling resonating down the hallway. I generally like that song, but not now because, at the moment, it sounds more like the song Mi Problema – So haunting!

Pushing her fingers to type faster, she finishes up the listing.

Great work! Danette encourages herself, as the lights in the living room flick on. Now, one more thing.

Danette points her mouse at the bottom of her screen, as the sound of footsteps treading across the living room’s wooden floorboards creak behind her.

 Just as he approaches, she presses ‘submit,’ in rapid fire, on eBay, Market Place and Gumtree.

“Hey, babe,” Hanley says, as he rounds the corner of the under-staircase alcove.

Danette jumps, then spins her chair around so she faces Hanley. Attempting an innocent look, she shoots him a wide-eyed smile. “Hi, bun, ” she says.

“Hmm,” Hanley replies. “You’re sitting in the dark again. You didn’t watch another one of those creepy documentaries on the animal channel again did you?”

Danette grins. “Nope, not today,” she says. “I’m golden.”

Hanley looks at her a moment.  “Are you sure?”

Danette nods.

Hanley grins. “Glad to hear that, ” he says. “You know, you can turn the lights on when you get home. We aren’t that stretched for money, and I’ve heard those werewolves have a real bite on them.”

“Really?” Danette says, a little too quickly. “We’re okay money wise?”

“Sure,” Hanley replies. “I mean we’re not millionaires, but we’re managing so far.”

“That’s good to hear, but sometimes I wish we had more money.”

Hanley places one hand on the desk in the under-staircase alcove and leans forward, glancing at the computer screen.

“Why?” he says. “What were you buying?”

Danette swallows. Taking Hanley’s hand, she stands and walks towards the kitchen, hoping Hanley will follow her lead.

“Oh, I checked out the price of a few textbooks,” she lies.

Hanley follows her across the living room floor, saying, “Well, if you can’t find any decent second-hand ones, buy them brand new. It won’t break the bank. I promise. Now, how about The Purple Maracujá or we could get pizza.”

Remembering their bank account, Danette’s cheeks burn.

Shaking her head, she says, “No, I’ve got it. I found a new recipe I want to try out. We can have take-out another time.”

Hanley raises his eyebrows. “Well, okay,” he says.

Danette narrows her eyes. “What’s the matter?” she says. “You don’t like my cooking?”

Hanley rubs her hand with his, then kisses her forehead.

“Don’t be silly,” he says, smiling. “I love your cooking, but I also like a bit of grease.”

Danette kisses Hanley back.

“Well, how about next pay day?” she says.

“Pay day? That’s a little while away. Why do you want to wait that long?”

Danette’s cheeks warm. “Oh, no reason. I just have an assessment due that day. Eating out will help me feel better if I do badly or lift my spirits higher if I do well.”

“That’s right,” Hanley says, touching her arm. “You had an assessment today, didn’t you? How’d that go?”

Danette creases her brow,

“An assessment?” she says.

“Yeah, you said this morning that you had forgotten about it, and so you didn’t think you’d do well.”

Danette’s cheeks burn.

“Oh, yeah,” she says. “Valda filled me in on a few things as we walked to class, so, you never know, perhaps I’ll do better than I thought.”

Hanley smiles. “I sure hope so,” he says. “I said a prayer for you as I drove into work.”

Kissing her one more time, he heads towards the stairs. “Well, I’ll go scrub up,” Hanley says. “I know you don’t like my railway moulder odour.”

Now, standing at the bottom of the stairs, Hanley turns and says, “I’ll meet you back here on the couch?”

“Sure,” Danette replies.

  Chapter Eight

Danette holds a clump of brown soil up against her nose.

Mmm, she sighs, as she inhales a big breath of fresh garden air, earthy.

Then, digging her fingers deeper beneath the garden bed’s brown surface, pulling up the blue-flowered scurvy weed that has grown up amongst the nasturtiums, she hears a voice behind her calling her name.

Oh, that’s Hanley. Then, turning her head, Danette creases her brow, concerned that he used her name instead of “babe.” Is he unhappy with me? Danette tries reading his face but fails. Then, her eyes zero in on his hands, holding her new dress and shoes.

How did he find them? I was going to move them when he wasn’t looking, but acting secretively isn’t easy when you have a spouse living right in your own home with you.

Danette wipes her muddy hands on her gardening apron, then removes it, folding it slowly and placing it on the ground.

Time to face the music.

Standing up, she dawdles across the grassy slope that leads towards the back door of their house.

She tries not to cry, but already can feel tears pricking her eyes.

“Hi,” she says, now standing before him, attempting a bright cheery smile. “What’s up?”

But when her eyes stare into his, instead of seeing warmth, she sees disappointment.

Come on, Danette. You can’t act like nothing’s wrong anymore. Hanley deserves better than that.

Danette frowns, then bites her lower lip. Taking the dress and shoes from his arms, she says, “You found them.”

Hanley nods. “I did. “I was doing some cleaning, trying to help you out, and I found them stuffed in the draw of your work desk.” Inspecting her face closely, he says, “What are they?”

Staring at the ground, Danette wrings her hands. In a faint voice, she says, “I’m so sorry, Hanley. I did it again. I went on another shopping spree. I simply couldn’t help myself. Whatever I saw, I bought, and now the amount left over in our bank account is low.”

Hanley stays silent a while, his ears turning pink and his nose becoming white. Finally, he says, “I see,” he turns on his heel, walking inside, then places the offending items on the arm of the sofa and walks up the stairs.

That’s it? “No yelling? No shouting? Well, of course not: Hanley grew up inside of an explosive marriage, and he said he didn’t want us repeating that in ours. So far, he has stuck to that, but it still unnerves me and makes me cry.”

Wiping away tears, Danette leaves her muddy-soled shoes on the doorstep, then walks inside the house.

Hearing the shower turn on, she climbs up the stairs. On reaching the top, she walks to hers and Hanley’s room then sits down on the bed, waiting for the bathroom door to open.

Moments later, a puff of steam escapes through the opening doorway and Hanley appears, in a towel, scuffing his wet hair with his fingers.

Glancing at her, without smiling, Hanley says, “There you are.”

Rifling through his second drawer, he says, “I’m upset, Danette, that you did this.” Then, raising his arms in the air, he says, “How could you have done this again?”

Sniffing, tears in her eyes, Danette says, “Hanley, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happens to me. When I’m at a shopping centre, this huge feeling overwhelms me and it’s like I must have every single thing that I see.”

Glancing at her, Hanley says, “That sounds like greed.”

Danette pauses, then dabbing her eyes, she says,

“I think you’re right, and you know what’s worse? It’s not even my money. I’m still studying. You’re the one who’s doing all the work. I must show more responsibility.”

Hanley stops and, turning towards her, inspects her face. “Babe,” he says. “I never want to hear you say that again. I know only I’m working right now, but it’s not my money. It’s ours.”

On hearing the word ‘babe,’ Danette’s tears slow.

“But you’re right,” Hanley continues. “You must show more responsibility, and although I’m mad right now, I am here to help you with any problems you have now and any that you will have in the future.” 

Danette stands, then hesitating, she hugs Hanley, her arms loose around him. “I’m so glad to hear you say that,” she says, “and once again, I am truly sorry that I overspent again.”

Hanley hugs her back, but tighter, saying, “Of course, babe. I’m here for you.”

Pulling back, her arms still around him, Danette smiles up at Hanley. “I’m glad to hear you say that, but, you know, I think this incident has exacerbated the lack of assurance I sometimes feel about my salvation.”

“How so?” Hanley asks.

“Well, I’m still so wicked,” she says. “I try hard to live like a true Christian, but in the last few days, I’ve spent our money irresponsibly, lied, hidden the evidence and made our marriage harder than it needs to be.”

Tilting her face towards the floor, she adds, “I also haven’t shown much kindness to Bill.”

Unclasping his hands from around her waist, Hanley narrows his eyes, “Bill?”

“Yeah.” Danette grins. “He’s my bus driver.”

Hanley smiles back. “You know his name? Well, things can’t be too dire if you’re both on a first-name basis,” he jokes.

Danette chuckles “I am serious, though: every time I sin, my mind races and my heart tells me I’m on my way to Hell, and I don’t know how to stop that.” Danette pauses, wondering if she should unload more of what she’s thinking, then continues, “I haven’t told you this before, but as a child, I had an unusual pastime. My parents owned a baby-name book which they had used while choosing names for their children. They kept it on the top shelf of the bookcase in our study and I used to enjoy standing on tiptoe, pulling it down and reading it, wondering which names I would choose for my own children when I grew up. I liked reading the common nicknames associated with the names in the book, the name’s country of origin and the different ways of spelling each name but, most of all, I liked reading the meanings of each name and I loved reading that my name meant butterfly princess. I thought that was so pretty and I felt sorry for girls named Catherine, Candace and Karen."

Hanley raises his eyebrows. “Why’s that?” he says.

“Their names mean pure. ‘How boring,’ I would think. ‘How ordinary. How lacking in mysticism.’ But my thinking about the word pure has changed now because, the longer I live, the more sins I become guilty of, so the longer I live, the less pure I sometimes feel. As a born-again Christian, when God looks at me, I know that instead of seeing my sins, He sees Jesus’ perfectly lived life, His death and His resurrection. So, in God’s eyes I know I am clean, but when people who have known me a long time see me, they remember the times I have either fallen or jumped into sin. They know that beside my name should sit the word sinner. That’s not a nice word, but it well and truly belongs beside my name. When I first realised that, as you know, I seriously doubted my salvation. It was so bad, it often kept me awake at night, and it grew so intense, walking up or down stairs terrified me.”

Hanley furrows his brow. “That doesn’t sound fun.”

Danette shakes her head. “It wasn’t. I would wonder, ’What if I trip and fall?  What if I die, and shoot straight into the flames of eternal Hell?’”

Hanley stays quiet a moment, as if searching for the right words to say. “That’s a lot to take in,” he says finally. Then, nudging her shoulder with his own, Hanley continues, “But it’s reassuring, don’t you think? That we’re saved by grace through faith and not by how long we can go without sinning?”

“My brain knows what the Bible says,” Danette agrees. “I know we are saved by grace and through faith, but how do I make my heart feel secure in that, especially when I’m so prone to misbehaving?”

 Chapter Nine

Back in the university student lounge, Valda leans forwards towards Danette. “So,” she says. “How did things go? Have you told Hanley what you’ve been getting up to these past few days?”

Danette shakes her head. “I wish I had told him of my own volition, but it turns out that wasn’t necessary.”

Leaning closer, as if eager for some salacious gossip, Valda says, “Oh, really, why not?”

 

“Well,” she says, cheeks burning. “Hanley figured out something was going on by himself. You see, while cleaning my desk, he found the dress and shoes that I had hidden after trying to sell them on eBay, Market Place and Gumtree.”

“Any luck with selling them, by the way?” Valda asks.

Danette shakes her head. “Nup,” she says. “No one wants them.”

“Blimey,” Valda says, reaching for her phone and swiping it open.

Pausing, Danette watches Valda fiddle with her phone.

“Oh, go on,” Valda says, looking up at her. “Don’t mind me. I want to hear your full story. Share every fact. Tell me exactly how you felt and how you’re feeling now.”

Taking a deep breath, Danette divulges every detail of what happened the day before, finishing up by saying, “Well, I felt awful. I mean, who wouldn’t? After all, I don’t want to be the bad guy in our relationship, but I misspent our money, lied about it, and hid things from Hanley. What kind of a wife does that?”

Swiping her phone closed and then putting it back inside her bag, Valda says, “And that’s a wrap.”

Danette creases her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

Stacking her books then placing them in her bag, Valda says, “I mean exactly what I said. That’s a wrap.”

Danette’s eyes dart around Valda’s face, as she sits motionless, feeling confused.

Valda stops momentarily, then says, “That’s a media term for ‘We’re finished filming.”

Danette narrows her eyes. “Filming?” she says. “What are you talking about? Did you film me with your phone?”

Valda nods, a smirk spreading across her face.

Danette sputters. “Why?”

“Hello,” Valda says, “Don’t you remember what our lecturer said in Media Ethics class? We have an assessment due next week, and I know what I’m doing mine on.” Valda points at Danette. “You and Hanley!”

Danette scrunches up her mouth. Then, shaking her head she says, “I still don’t understand.”

Valda rolls her eyes. “I’m filming an ad for a fictitious divorce law company named Separate Now, and you’re its leading star,” she says. Then, holding an invisible microphone up to her mouth, in a deep voice, Valda says, “Feeling betrayed? Can’t trust your mate? We know exactly how you feel. So, don’t trust just anyone. Let us walk you through the next steps of your divorce proceedings. Separate Now? See us first.”

Danette sits speechless a moment, then slamming her hands on the table in front of her, she stands up. "I can’t believe what you’re saying. I had no idea you were filming me.”

Ignoring Danette’s words, Valda stands up also, then, slinging her book bag over her shoulder, walks towards the quadrangle.

Danette follows her. “Valda,” she said, “This is a Media Ethics assessment and you’re a Media Ethics student. You can’t film me without my consent and then broadcast it wherever you want.”

But Valda keeps walking.

Catching up with her, Danette places her hand on Valda’s shoulder then pulls on it, forcing Valda around until she faces Danette.

Her voice becoming desperate, Danette says, “But Valda, what about those Benetton Group crooks you sounded so well read up on? Didn’t you learn anything from them at all?”

Her mouth straight, Valda places one hand on her hips. “I certainly did,” she says. “I learned that despite their questionable morals, the Benetton Group’s name is recorded in the world-famous Guinness Book of Records.”

Danette shakes her head again, her eyes wide. “Yeah,” she says. “Their names are in there, but not for anything good. Valda, they’re in the Guinness Book of Records because they’re crooked.”

Valda holds her hand up in the air, her fingers spread wide like a traffic cop directing traffic at an out-of-order stop light. “Stop it, okay? What you might not know is that they still won the 2012 Cannes Film Festival, and the only reason I’m at this university is because I’m on a scholarship. But if I don’t get good grades, I lose it. So, if unethical advertising can work out for the Benetton Group, why shouldn’t it work out for me?”

 Chapter Ten

Back home, Danette dabs tears from her eyes. “I can’t believe it.”

Hanley squeezes her shoulder, then encircles her in a warm embrace.

“I met Valda in a Media Ethics class but she’s proven herself to be as unethical, well, as unethical as I have been lately.”

“Yeah, I know,” Hanley says, snuggling his chin into the crook of her shoulder, then kissing it. “The irony of it all.”

“Valda said she will use the footage as part of the class assessment, which is due next week, to advertise a fictional divorce law firm. Can you believe she thinks we’d divorce over something like this?” Then, lowering her eyes, a worried expression washing through them, she says, “Well, we won’t, will we?”

Squeezing her shoulder with his hand again, Hanley shoots a puff of air out the side of his lower mouth. “Of course not,“ he says, kissing her on the cheek.  

“That’s never going to be us, babe, but will this come between you and Valda?”

Danette thinks awhile, then says, “That all depends on Valda, I guess. Will she apologise? Will she change? And even if she does, I can’t imagine myself trusting her at all anymore.”

“Well,” Hanley says. “Here’s something that you hopefully will trust in, implicitly. I found it surfing on the web only a few moments ago. It’s a letter written by an old, reformed pastor. Thomas Brooks, his name is, and apparently, he had a friend with a strong, rock-solid Christian faith, but while lying on her deathbed, she had an attack of anxiety, causing her trust in God’s faithfulness to lapse. She feared that when she died, God would go back on His promise of forgiveness and everlasting life and cast her into Hell instead. But in this letter to her, Thomas wrote eight reasons why Christians no longer need to fear judgement after they’ve died.”

Danette raises her eyebrows. “That sounds interesting.”

Hanley places the computer printout in her hand, then points at reason four. “Take a look at this one,” he says.

Reading aloud, Danette reads, “Death frees Christians from all reproach and disgrace on their names. Heaven wipes away all blots. In Heaven, God will print the names of all the saints in characters of gold.”

Danette looks at Hanley, her head tilted to one side.

Hanley smiles. “Don’t you understand?” That means that, in Heaven, our names will no longer carry all the transgressions we have committed. In God’s eyes and in the eyes of others, the word ‘pure’ will be alongside our names.”

Danette throws a wide smile back at Hanley. “That sounds wonderful,” she says. “Thanks for this, Hanley. I now no longer view the word pure as a boring meaning for a name. Instead, it’s a joy knowing that someday, or even soon, not only will the names Catherine, Candace and Karen mean pure, but my own name will mean pure also.”

But, later that night, while attempting to sleep, Danette tosses and turns in her bed.

“What’s up, babe?” Hanley says, yawning.

Danette sighs. “I love knowing that my name will soon mean pure, in gold letters, but I don’t think it’s enough. I still feel scared that when I die, God won’t want me.”

Hanley hugs her tight under the bedcovers. “That’s heartbreaking,” he mumbles, sounding as if he’s fighting off sleep. “Well, let’s see if this helps,” he says, squeezing her hand. “I also found something else on the net, written by William Plumer in the mid-1800s. He speaks of a ‘triumphant death’. That’s what the reformers called when a Christian dies without fear or anguish regarding the judgement to come, but rather with joy and longing, rejoicing at the thought of meeting their Lord and Saviour in person.”

“A triumphant death?” Danette says. “I would love one of those.”

Hanely rubs her arm with his hand. “Me too!” he says. “But Plumer writes that, unfortunately, not all Christians have this feeling of peace towards death immediately. Instead, he says, some Christians suffer from what’s called a lack of assurance of salvation. Plumer says that, in his experience, even a strong believer may feel afraid of dying but  eventually they get that deep-down knowing that they can trust God, even in death.”

Danette sits up. Fumbling for her phone, she says, “What’s the name of that article, again?”

Hanley yawns, then propping himself up on one elbow, he rests his chin on his hand. “Fear of Dying by William S. Plumer, I think.”

She skims her phone screen. “Hey, listen to these words of an old preacher, who regularly visited dying Christians, that William quotes in his article: ‘Though a believer may have his darkness, doubts and fears and many conflicts of soul while on his dying bed, yet usually these are all over and gone before his last moments come and death does its office and work upon him. From the precious promises of God to be with his people even until death, from the scriptural account of dying saints and from the observations I have made during my life, I am of the opinion that, generally speaking, the people of God die comfortably, their spiritual enemies made as still as a stone, while they pass through Jordan or the stream of death. The prevailing sentiment of every Christian community is that, in death, Christ shows great grace to His elect and fulfills the promise “as your days – so shall your strength be.’”

Danette smiles in the dark. “That’s it!” she says.

“Really?” Hanley asks.

Danette nods. “These words comfort me no end because, although I still struggle with believing that God could forgive sins as big as mine, thanks to Plumer and you, I do believe  that, by the time I reach my last hours on Earth, God will stay especially close to me and impart the peace and joy I hope to display as I pass from life here with you to life with God in eternity.”

“Great,” Hanley says, stroking her fingers with his. Then, closing his eyes, Hanley says, “Now, do you think we can get a couple of hours of sleep before work tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Danette says, sliding her phone under her pillow. She lays down beside Hanley holding him in her arms. “Sleep tight,” she says, closing her eyes.

But soon, a soft snore escapes from Hanley’s nose, popping Danette’s eyes back open. Hmm.  That makes it a little hard to sleep.

Danette closes her eyes again, attempting to drift off.

Nope, she thinks, as Hanley snores again. That’s not happening anytime soon. I might as well see what’s selling down at Tiffany’s and Claudette’s.

Slowly, Danette slides her arm out from under Hanley’s waist, so as not to wake him. Then, inching her phone out from under her pillow, she swipes it open.

Wow! Look at those sunglasses. They’d go great with  my non-returnable dress, and look at that…

“Yelp!” Danette shrieks, as a hand softly clenches her wrist.

“Babe?” Hanley says. “If you’re buying more stuff, I’ll do a Mexican hat dance on your head.”

 Epilogue

Sitting in The Purple Maracujá with Hanley, Danette says, “You know, I’ve been thinking. Dying is something I have never done before, and I always get a little nervous when I’m about to do something for the very first time, but when I get nervous, there’s always something to hold onto.

Hanley raises his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” he says.

“Remember when we went on The Zipper for the first time at Evenwood Amusement Park? Well, I clung onto that safety bar with all my might and when I took my very first driving lesson, I gripped the steering wheel so hard, my fingers hurt. Then, when I moved out of home and had to stand on my own two feet for the first time ever, I crossed my arms and held onto myself, but when you die for the very first time, what’s there to hold onto?

Hanley rolls his eyes, as if thinking, “Do you really need to ask?” Then, putting his fork down, he takes both her hands in his, saying, ”Danette, when you die for the very first time, you’ll hold onto God’s word.

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