Court Papers in the Locked Drawer of a Community Doctor
Each transaction was completed at the drive-up machine behind the pharmacy near David’s clinic.
It was always the same amount, always on a Friday, and always in cash.
I ran the yellow felt tip over the first date, August twenty-fifth.
Then September first.
The bright yellow stripes lined up down the white margins like yellow warning signs on a highway.
Who was he paying with three hundred and fifty dollars in cash every single week?
Marcus had told me David was paying him three hundred dollars a week to watch me.
If Marcus was getting three hundred, what was the extra fifty dollars for every Friday?
The yellow marker squeaked against the dry paper as I marked the eighth withdrawal.
I closed the cap, the plastic click sounding sharp and final in the small space of the car.
Eight weeks of withdrawals meant he had taken two thousand eight hundred dollars from our joint savings.
I put the envelope into my glove box and turned the key in the lock, securing it.
By two in the afternoon, our neighborhood was completely silent.
