a day in the life of two years

I wake up at 5:45AM. I am half way through my internship for my massage school. I hate that I have to get up so damn early. Who gets massages at seven in the morning? I get ready: shower, shave, do my hair, put on my uniform. I get ready to fly out the door. Where are my keys? I always am loosing my keys. Always. I search everywhere. Frantic. If I am late, the sessions will not count and I will not get to graduate in time. On a whim, I go out to my car, although I know they can’t be there since I was able to let myself in to the house last night. My car is locked. I put my hand up to the window and peer in. My keys are laying on my car seat. Seriously?
I go back into the house and go into Carlos’s room. “Babe, you can you wake up?” He turns over and looks at me, bloodshot eyes—didn’t sleep well. . .again. “Did you use my keys last night?”
“Oh, yeah. I did. I left something in your car. I had to get it. Oh, I locked your keys inside your car. I didn’t want to wake you?” Groggy, unfocused.
“You didn’t want to wake me! I am going to be late! I can not be late! You should have woken me up!”
“I was trying to be nice and let you get some sleep. Quit being a jerk!”
“Fine, I’m sorry. I’ll figure it out. Go back to sleep.” He rolls back over as I shut his door.
Luckily, I belong to AAA, and they get there in record time. He unlocks my car and I am on the road, flying down the highway. I am going to make it. I can not believe this. Luck really is on my side. Gut feeling happening. I hate that. My gut is rarely wrong. I pick up my wallet that I always keep in the side pocket of my car door. “Oh, shit.” Do I really want to know? Just leave it where it is. Don’t bother with it.
I fish out my Visa card, flip it over and dial the 800 number on the back. I really don’t want to know this. A service lady picks up the phone. “Hi, I know this is a strange question, but I was wondering if there was any activity on my card in-between midnight and now?”
Long pause. I can hear the clacking of the keyboard on the other end. “Yes sir, around four this morning there was a charge of $74 dollars applied to your Visa.”
My insides feelS dead. “What was it for?”
“It was charged from a pornography site in India.”
“Is there any name on the account or password?”
“Yes, sir. It is your name on the account and the password is: ‘donkeylove.” Dying a little more inside every second.
“That is impossible. I was not even up at four. I did not make those charges. I am not going to pay them. Is there anyway we can fight this?”
“Yes sir. We can. However, I have to let you know, if you know anything about this or who did it, you will be charged with attempted fraud. Are you sure you don’t know who did this?”
“No, no one I know would do this.” It is the first time that I can remember lying since the fourth grade.
I manage to get to my internship in time and get the five hours of massages done. With each one, my dread of what is to come builds. I pack up quickly and speed home.
Carlos is still in bed when I get there. I go into his room and wake him up. “We need to talk about this morning.”
“What now? I am trying to sleep. We have already talked about this morning. I am sorry I didn’t wake you up. Geeze.”
“I am not talking about that. I called my credit card company. There were charges made this morning to a porn site based in India. At four this morning.”
“There is no way you are going to accuse me of this? I just got something out of your car that I left in there. I did not touch your wallet.” Growling.
“She said the password was: ‘donkeylove.’ We both know who uses that password.
Carlos sits up, eyes flashing. “That doesn’t mean a thing. Computers get hacked into all the time. Just because someone used my password doesn’t mean it was me. Some of my friends have had this very thing happen.”
“What I don’t get, Carlos, and what hurts is that you felt you had to steal from me. Why? I am paying for your school, your food, half the time,S your gas. I don’t make you pay any of the mortgage. All you would have had to do is wake me up and ask me if you could use my credit card to get porn. I would have said yes, and you know it. Instead you steal from me, put it back, lock me out of my car, don’t even tell me, and then go back to sleep!”
Yelling: “You are just like my mother. Always accusing me of things, never trusting me. You say you love me and then you accuse me of shit like this. We have nothing together if this is the kind of stuff you are going to do to me. You are crazy. You are making all this up and trying to blame me!”
We go back and forth for nearly half an hour. By the end, I am in tears, of course. I know what really happen, but I suspend what I know and accept the impossible. “I am sorry. I was not trying to hurt you or accuse you. It just didn’t make any sense. If you say you didn’t do it, then you didn’t do it. I am sorry.” I crawl into bed with him and gradually quit crying.