Bust Out Magazine

Winter 2004

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Bye-Bye

by Bud Debo

I suppose that I should have seen it coming. It had been that kind of week.

On Monday evening the phone rang. “Hola, Señora Dee-lon. Habla Maria. I call to say you I no come to clean the house no more. I going back to San Salvador. Mi hermana is have a baby and need me to be by her.”

My mother says the two most important things a working woman can have are a trustworthy mechanic and a reliable housekeeper. In the San Francisco Bay Area, both are harder to find than a straight single man over 40.

Bye-bye, Relaxing Saturdays.

When I got home on Tuesday, there was a note from Jerry, my handyman. “Karen, I cleaned out the gutters but I'm not sure it's going to do much good. They're rusted out in both the front and back of the house. Recommend replacing before the winter rains. Cost estimate is about $3500.” I checked my savings account balance — it was not encouraging.

Bye-bye, Winter Vacation on Maui.

On Wednesday, Karl called me at work. “Mom, I'm burned out. I'm about to lose it. I'm dropping out of school and coming home.”

Stunned silence on my end.

“Honey, it's only three more weeks till finals and your grades have been good,” I finally managed to say. “Can't you stick it out through the end of the semester? At least you'll have some college credits for the money I've spent.” What I didn't say was that I had just finished converting his bedroom into an honest-to-goodness office — no more working at the kitchen table, I had thought — and I was unwilling to give it up without a fight.

“Mom! I'm roached! I can't handle any more studying. If I have to take my finals, I'll flunk 'em. But if I drop my classes now, I'll get an Incomplete Passing and it'll be a lot easier to go back later.”

My friend Jill had said, “Don't get too comfy in that empty nest.” Jill's twenty-four-year-old daughter had just moved back in. Her intuition was scary sometimes.

Bye-bye, Home Office.

Early Sunday morning the phone rang again. “Karen, have you seen the numbers?”

“I just opened my eyes, Jill. I haven't even seen the bathroom yet.”

“I'm so excited I can hardly breathe. Are you sitting down?”

“I'm lying down, for chrissakes…'cause I'm still in bed. What's got your panties in such a knot so early in the morning?”

“Karen, we won! Our lotto numbers came in!”

Silence from me.

“Karen, are you okay? Talk to me!”

More silence.

“Karen…please, please, please, please, please…tell me that you did buy the lotto tickets yesterday.”

Bye-bye, Big Dream.


Bud Debo lives in San Rafael, California.

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