$945 (Part 1)

Every month or so I tuck a few dollars away in a high yield savings account. It's not much so I don't miss it but I do it regularly so it's added up. I began doing this back in 2018 when my friend Henry had his accident. I knew Henry and Reg were going to have a hard time with medical bills and I wanted to be able to help. I haven't made any withdrawals since Henry died in 2024, but I have continued making deposits. I want to be able to help my friends out if the need arises but I don't want to need them to pay me back. After all, I'm an old lady on a fixed income. 

The fund is up to $945. It's not a fortune, but I could cut a check for up $750 without blinking.* It won't go that far, but if a friend is having trouble getting their car repaired or needs to replace their window a/c, I'm their girl.

My friends don't know about this money. 

I suspect I'll be making a withdrawal soon. But here's my quandary: What to do when the person in the greatest need is an asshole?

Reg, Henry's widower, is literally homeless. After Henry died, Reg concentrated on going through Henry's things and downsizing. I would have liked to have the chance to see what was left of Henry and maybe gotten something small – a photo, a birthday card, a mug – I could treasure, but Reg is not speaking to me. He called me, quite drunk, about a year ago. I was literally in the dentist chair, having my teeth worked on, so I couldn't pick up. He kept calling. And calling. My phone kept ringing from my purse in the corner. It was embarrassing. The dentist teased me about being as popular and in demand as Taylor Swift. When I got home, I listened to all of Reg's slurred messages, "He loved you so much! Do you know how much he loved you?" I waited a few hours (remember, I had spent considerable time that day with the drill and deserved time to recover) and texted him and explained why I was unable to talk when he called. Apparently he thought I was lying, just blowing him off, and was furious with me. He blocked me on Facebook and hasn't reached out since. 

Which is fine because, well, fuck you. Reg's drinking got in the way of Henry's care. I realize that Henry's TBI was serious and my darling friend was likely never going to recover fully, but I'm still mad. I have compassion for Reg – the love of his life was now wholly dependent on him, and Reg was faced with making daunting decisions on a daily basis. I get all that and I'm sorry, really I am. But he was also pickled almost all the time, and because he couldn't stay away from liquor there was always booze in the house. So Henry was always drinking, too. At least two of his subsequent hospitalizations were complicated because he was detoxing. Henry had a brain injury and was not able to make informed decisions about his alcohol intake. I blame Reg. Maybe I'm not being fair, but if Reg ever admitted his own problem or gotten help, maybe my Henry would have suffered less.

After Reg finished going through Henry's things, he put much of their stuff in storage, gave up their apartment, and took off with their chihuahua for a road trip. He needed to get away. I know he spent some time in up in Maine, where his family lives. He told our mutual friend Patrick that he intended to relocate up there, but after two months he decided to go back to South Florida.

During those months, and maybe for some time before, Reg wasn't checking email. I don't know all the details, but he lost a lot of money in automatic withdrawals. Some of it had to do with penalties for abandoning the apartment he shared with Henry: cable bills, utility bills, security deposit, etc. Then there were overdraft fees. I don't know what else was involved. None of it was illegal. He could have disputed these charges within a specified time frame. He wasn't hacked. Beyond that, I don't know all the details. 

But now, Reg and that poor dog are living in his car. Apparently they are alternately parking at Walmart amid the RVs and a campsite. (They can't stay consecutive nights at a Walmart parking lot; the things you learn!) Between his FICO score being in the toilet and all those unexpected charges/penalties from his most recent landlord, he can't get an apartment.

He's 67 years old. He is not in good health. Apparently he has been making gas/spending money driving for Uber Eats, but I don't know for sure.

I know Henry wants me to send Reg $750. Right now. This moment. Henry loved his husband. Also, you have no idea what a good person Henry was. There was never a friend or colleague or fellow parishioner who didn't experience his kindness. Even after his accident debilitated him, he supported those around him. He often wore a bracelet that said, ONE HUMAN FAMILY and that's how he lived.

But I can't. I've wrestled with this. I've prayed on it. I'm not done wrestling and praying, but right now I just can't. 

1) Reg isn't Henry. He has not always been nice to me since 2018. I know that Reg's trauma, responsibility and loss have been enormous, much greater than mine. But I did not deserve the treatment I received when Reg lashed out.

2) I haven't missed him. There are people in my life who are actually in my life who may need this money soon. 

3) He's in such a deep hole that I don't think my little "Friend Fund" would even make a dent. 

4) If I knew it would go the care of that poor little dog, I'd send it in a heartbeat. I know that dog. He's a loving little creature and he must be getting old now. But I'm not sending Reg money for cigarettes and vodka.

5) He was just in Maine. Why isn't his family stepping up? What about his friends? I wonder who else he's alienated since Henry died. There's so much going on here I don't know.

6) He hasn't asked. I know that as a Christian, that shouldn't matter. But try as I might, I often fall short. If this makes me sound petty, well, I'm guilty as charged.

This post has left me quite conflicted and sad so I just feel up to detailing the other candidates for my princely sum.

 

*I never want the balance to drop to $0.  

Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash