I bit the bullet and called the dealership around 11:30am, scheduling an appointment to sign the papers on the new Hot Mess Express. I knew if I put it off, I’d lose the car, and then I’d regret it forever.
As promised, Shawshank called after lunch. He’s in a really bad headspace, and was nearly at a breaking point when he got me on the phone. When we spoke on Wednesday night, he explained they’re sending his roommate, Irish, home this week. Well, I guess Irish left yesterday, and now he’s feeling very alone again. The room is too quiet now, and it was difficult to sleep. He’s not sure if he’ll get another roommate. The facility tries not to mix races or languages in each room, and he’s by himself again. I wisely opted not to thank him for the warning about the transcripts; he didn’t need that on top of things while trying to hold back the waterworks. He didn’t need to worry about whether or not I spent last night poring over every word said during his questioning.
“I want to talk to Captain America [the ICE agent on staff] and tell him to just send me home,” he said. “I won’t fight anything. I’ll skip court and everything.” I explained that wasn’t going to happen, because in three hours I was going to be signing the papers on a new car and I wasn’t going to buy him plane tickets home. He didn’t know he’d need to pay for the flight himself, and asked that I verify it for him. “Just to make sure,” he said. After I got off the phone, I checked. Not only would he have to pay, but his conviction means he’s not even eligible to leave that way.
It sucks.
I broke that news to him during the after dinner call. He’s not happy about it at all. I don’t know why, exactly. My assumption is it’s just one more “unknown”; if he had the option to go before the judge and say “I’m not fighting this, send me home,” he would have just a little less unpredictability. As it was, I could hear the frustration in his voice when he was asking what he should be doing or saying at court. It felt bad to tell him I honestly don’t know what his options are when he gets to court.
Aside from the trip to the dealership, I didn’t have a lot of stuff planned for the day. I went to the post office shortly after we finished our call after lunch. He called just as I was pulling into the parking lot. Our first call was cut off, and he felt bad. After he apologized, he promised to call me tonight. I know he’s lonely today, so I’m not going to kick up a fuss over it.
He was happy I decided to get the new car, but felt bad the Subaru couldn’t be used as trade. It’s not the best situation, but it’s not the worst, either. For now, the Forester’s sitting in the driveway. If I can find a way to get Chase to come and get it, lovely. He’s not worrying about the last $900 worth of payments. To be on the safe side, I backed it in the driveway, for ease of repo removal.
Unfortunately, he’s also sad he couldn’t be there for me this afternoon. I’m not the best with doing things – big things – on my own, and he felt bad I did it alone.
Remembering the last time I dealt with a car dealership, I made my appointment for mid-afternoon, expecting it to take a few hours. Shawshank, a former car salesman, warned me as well. “Plan for a couple of hours in there, at least,” he said. I figured I’d spend a couple of hours doing paperwork, leaving in my new car just before dinner. Nope! I was in and out in about an hour, and heading back home. After fiddling with things, I could comfortably reach both the pedals and the steering wheel. I headed back out; I went to Walmart, bought a couple of things, and went home for little while before going to get my Friday Fast Food Feast.
Don’t ask why I went to Walmart. I’m an idiot, that’s all. To quote BossRPh, “You fool, you could’ve DIED.”
But, I’m home now. Aside from possibly going out tomorrow because I just realized I don’t have tortillas for tomorrow’s dinner, I’m not leaving. Besides, Chaucer is cozy and won’t let me up.
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