When Anvils Fall

A child's laugh was the gentle bell of happiness. Innocent eyes grew wide, and beauty caught in a brilliant smile. Little hands applauded, and legs kicked up into the air, spiraling a series of giggles. And a jubilant face shined with anticipation, but her happiness was lost on the one, who fell further into despair.

It was early afternoon. They said they would call at two. The shrill ring of the telephone was the last sound that she wanted to hear. Her hands curled around her daughter, trying to capture her happiness, but her heart held to misery. She glanced at the bills piling up on the kitchen table nearby, and she felt like she was being drowned. And her burden was growing heavier, pressing her back to the wall, and she was denied from escape, denied from a simple laugh at a Looney Tunes cartoon.

"More. More." Her child bounced up and down on her lap. "Meep meep." She screamed with happiness.

Her eyes fell on the cable box. Time slowly crept by. Tension slid down her back, tightening nerves, and pain etched their way into her hands. Fingers dipped into black, soft curls, and touched smooth baby skin, but no smile fell across her lips. A tired gaze returned to the television set, and part of her begged for sleep. But so many nights now were lost to the darkness that held her prisoner, a bottomless pit with no end in sight.

"Don't worry," he said. "We'll survive." Doubt raced across his tone. "We'll find a way."

"How? They cut your hours down to nothing, Bill."

"But I didn't lose my job unlike other employees."

"No, but we're barely getting by as it is, and now it's not looking too good at my job."

"Don't worry. They won't lay you off."

"How do you know?" He tried to end the conversation. "Bill, people are talking."

"People will always talk, Jane."

"Not like this. They're scared. They're afraid of finding themselves bankrupt, living off the streets."

"That won't be us, Jane."

"Can you promise that? What if I lose my job?" She held his gaze. "How do we survive then?"

"I don't know what to tell you," he said. "We can only hope for the best."

Hope for the best. He said that to her a week ago. The next day, she was told to go home. She didn't lose her job, but they couldn't pay her either. Originally, they said they would call to tell her when to come back, and she wasn't worried. She busied herself by making up lost time with her daughter, but she saw the hurt look on the babysitter's face when told her services would be on hold for the time being. Even a high school student was feeling the economic crunch, and when she graduates college, would a job be waiting for her? Or would she be stuck, riding the rail to a dead-end job in retail?

The phone rang yesterday. She nearly dropped it in excitement. Plastic pressed against her ear in search of a voice, but silence was her answer. Her finger twisted around the cord. She knew someone was there, but why weren't they talking? Or was she afraid to hear them speak?

"I got laid off." Sobs rattled against the voice of her coworker. "They just called me." She could almost taste her tears. "They said that they had to let a few of us go, and they would be calling today and tomorrow."

"Beth, I'm... I'm so sorry."

"Did they call you?" She didn't know if she should answer. "Did they?"

"No." Her eyes fell on the bills scattered across the kitchen table. "No, they didn't."

"It's after two." Puzzlement crossed her face. "They said they would call up to two, so that leaves tomorrow." Her mouth went dry. "If they don't call you by two tomorrow, you're safe."

"Why are you telling me this? We weren't friends at work. You don't owe me anything."

"Because you have the right to know, and you won't be the last one that I call." Silence lingered across the line. "Good luck."

"Thank..." The line went dead. "You."

1:55 p.m. Her nerves felt like tightly wound coils, ready to snap. Dry tears stung her eyes. Frown lines pulled at her mouth. Age was hardly a flaw on her skin, but she felt older. Her mind spun over the bills that she and her husband barely touched, and she worried about her son, who was just finishing his second semester at college. What would they do? How could they survive?

Her daughter rolled with laughter, oblivious to her torment. Small hands gripped hers, and a brilliant smile dared to chase away her fears. A jubilant body bounced up and down on her lap, and a small laugh escaped through her lips. And her daughter seized upon that moment, forcing yet another laugh, and before she knew it, she was spiraling with giggles. And her daughter screamed with excitement.

"Meep meep."

"That's right, Isabel. Meep meep."

Who was she kidding? Her daughter was having the time of her life. The world was still her playground. She would have no worry of finance or security or even the games of politics. She was a free spirit soaring high, and nothing could tear her down. Her laughter was contagious, erasing all her fears, doubt, and concerns, and she couldn't stop giggling. And she knew that her problems wouldn't be solved with a moment like this, but a moment like this reminded her of the true grain of life. But why did living have to be so damn hard? It would be the dilemma that would chase her around and around, and as the anvil descended upon the wily coyote, a telephone ring was heard in the background.