The Pickwick Portfolio

Currency
By Brianna Anderson

Three stories, one family, unable to escape that ever-living demon we call “debt.”
The kind of black hole that sucks away the life of every soul.
The overwhelming load of bills piled too high to ignore or forget.

43 years old, father and head of the household.
He’s awake again in the middle of the night.
The tenants above him are fighting again, their drunken insults piercing through the thin walls of low income apartments.
He changes the TV channels a dozen times, too tired to care if he’ll find something worth watching.
The neighbors are enough entertainment for one night; he just wants to get some sleep.
Sleep needed for a 10 hour shift that starts at 6 AM, earning a paycheck that only brings him closer to bankruptcy.

45 years old, mother and educator of her children.
She can’t fall asleep because the pain in her back is so unbearable,
so she just lies there, praying the pain will go away soon.
Soon enough for her to start her day cleaning other people’s houses while putting away a few dollars she’ll never spend on herself because her children’s needs are more important.

20 years old, sister, student and oldest child.
The neon colored postcard in her hand practically screams “not good enough,” reminding her that tuition payments are late again.
Taking the semester off is not an option; she’ll have to work two jobs.
She refreshes the webpage of her online bank account, making a wish after every click,
waiting for a miracle to happen at the stroke of midnight.
But its 12 AM Thursday morning and payday is still another 24 hours away.

Three stories, one family, all part of a greater plan,
one that started long ago, starting with the fall of man.
Their souls were bought at the highest price; the blood of God’s son used as currency,
paying off their debts in full.

Father, mother and daughter alike have atonement for life.
The transaction of transferred holiness already made;
a kind of bond never to be repaid.