Chapter 66

“Did you get paid?”

The moment he opened the door with his key, a somewhat anxious face appeared before Anderson’s eyes. Meeting his wife’s gaze, he looked guiltily toward the floor, then turned and carried the boxes from outside into the house. In a muffled voice, with a trace of impatience, he answered, “No.”

“No?” Mrs. Anderson’s skin, long deprived of care, had already gone slack. Nasolabial lines, crow’s feet, forehead creases, dull and rough skin, disappointment filled her face, and her hands clasped together unconsciously. “Then what are we going to do this month?”

The bills would be arriving in the mail any day now. If they could not pay them, they would be placed on a high-risk list. If they defaulted again after that and still failed to repay what they owed this time, the bank or the companies involved would begin an investigation.

So long as a Special Agent decided they no longer had the ability to continue repaying, then the goods they had bought on installment, even the house itself, would all be auctioned off, and the proceeds used to cover the debt.

More terrifying still, the moment one of them started an investigation, every company with whom they had installment payment agreements would start one too. That was enough to destroy a household outright.

Several such cases had already happened around them in recent months. Those neighbors had been forced to sell their houses and move into worse, more dangerous communities.

Those places were full of every kind of criminal, working girls with “skills,” pimps, and all the rest. They were hell, though for certain people they were heaven as well.

Anderson carried the three cardboard boxes into the house and went straight to the sofa to sit down. His wife hovered around the boxes in circles. “What’s inside?”

Faced with his wife’s nagging questions, his head felt ready to split. “Things the factory used to offset wages. Maybe you’d do better to go ask the neighbors whether any of them need this stuff, instead of standing here giving me a headache. What do you think?”

The two looked at each other for a moment. Mrs. Anderson did not leave the room. Instead, she fell silent and began cleaning, moving around with a rag in hand, wiping here and there.

In truth, before Anderson came home, Mrs. Anderson had already given the house a thorough cleaning. For most full-time housewives, aside from tending to children and husband, there were only a few things left for them to do.

Watch television, chat with the neighbors, clean the house, and for a few of them, have affairs.

Whenever Mrs. Anderson’s emotions reached a critical point, she would start doing housework, doing it in silence, as though she had cut herself off from the entire world and would no longer be disturbed by anything outside it, until her mood returned to normal.