I had my alarm set early this morning because I wanted to kick-start my homework. Right after it went off, I heard the front door open. Charlie was just getting home from work and it was after seven in the morning.
I have done my best to be supportive in his choice to return to working weekends at the club, but as one of their few reliable employees, he generally gets asked to take on more and more responsibility. First it was just Fridays and Saturdays, then the occasional front-door duty, then holidays (night before Thanksgiving, weekend before Christmas, New Year's Eve), and now they're asking him to take on assistant general manager duties “just every once in a while.”
After I left for work last Saturday morning around 5:45 am, I was shocked that my car wasn't parked on the street. I ran back in the house to check the spare bedroom (he likes to sleep in there so he doesn't wake me up since he gets in late and I leave really early), and he wasn't there. My walk to work was fueled by rage, fear, anxiety, worry, you name it.
My mind raced through a series of possibilities; he stayed late, got drunk, got pulled over, and is in jail; he went home with some girl; he was driving home and a drunk-driver hit him; he's passed out on the floor of the bar . . . I couldn't imagine where he could be.
When I got to work I finally just called his cell and left a message, telling him I was worried. I didn't expect to hear anything back, but he called me within a couple of minutes, saying he was just now pulling up in front of the house. His “closing duties” training had lasted a lot longer than he'd been told it would. Rather than getting off work around 2am, as the manager had insisted, Charlie didn't leave until almost six in the morning.
As much money as that place brings in a night, I guess I'm not surprised.
What surprised me was that the manager was able to talk him into giving it all “just one more try.” Which leads us to this morning; I was getting up as he came in the door. The sad thing is that we'd had plans for today. He's told me before that he has never once gone to the art museum. I looked up their Sunday hours on their Web site and we planned to head out around noon. Considering it's now 11am, and he's been asleep for, maybe, four hours, I am not going to go wake him up to see if he's still interested.
I imagine he might sleep till about one, feel like shit, and take a nap later. I have a meeting at four this afternoon, so that doesn't leave us much time to do lunch and the museum.
As usual, I have to be at work again tomorrow morning at seven, so I'll be in bed relatively early tonight. When you include my meeting, my working yesterday morning, and his working last night and Friday night, we might see one another a total of about five hours this weekend.
I know the whole reason he's doing all of this is because of the money. They offered him a lot to just work weekends so they'd have a regular “door guy.” They offered him about fifteen bucks more per hour to do the occasional close. I know he's been able to sock away enough for at least a semester and a half back at school and he's worried because he'll only have maybe a year left of the GI Bill, whereas he's got at least two years back at school to get his second Bachelor's.
I wish there was some realistic way we could both be in school without him working seven days a week just to save money. I'm struggling enough as it is just to take my gen-ed courses at Ivy Tech, so there isn't a whole lot I can do. And he swears I am under no circumstances allowed to quit school and get a full-time gig while he's in. I should get my first BA before he gets his second, he says, with which, somewhat guiltily (is that a word?), I agree.
I've offered to put some of my own financial aid toward his courses but he wants to do this on his own. As a result, we don't see one another all that much.
Our sixth wedding anniversary is next month and, while we had planned to go out of town since it's the Friday before President's Day and he gets a three-day weekend, I don't know how we could afford to do much.
I suppose it's just time to sacrifice more in an attempt to have more opportunities down the road.