As soon as the check arrives from Big Savings I can’t help but think that this money could have been wired to our account by now. Standing in line at the bank I avoid mentioning this to Andrew, mostly because I don’t want to be reminded it would have cost for the convenience. When the bank tells us that due to the amount of the check there will be a hold of seven business days it’s a little harder to keep “I told you so” from entering our conversation.
Through the week I continue to poke Andrew about the contracts. The Agency has three different service plans to choose from, though we only need to consider two of those. Andrew and I are hardly the kind of family that needs private security and a full time nanny while in China. Not that I wouldn’t mind a private translator.
The cheaper plan appeals to Andrew but I make a point of not knowing how to handle getting all of our documents authenticated. The mid-range plan does this and provides extras like care packages sent to our child’s orphanage. After reading stories of care packages being sent from waiting parents being lost in the mail, and faced with the daunting prospect of authenticating documents I’m sold on the mid-range plan.
There are a few things we don’t need – like the personalized website, and I doubt we’ll need the cell phone in China, after all our phones have worked everywhere else in the world. Despite these things I’m still committed to the mid-range service plan.
In the evening Andrew reads through the contracts again, and I watch him, his head bowed and lips just slightly pressed together. Paper blankets his lap and covers the sofa cushions surrounding him. I fidget while waiting to hear something from him. Minutes begin to accumulate on the clock sitting on the bookshelf. My attention wavers between the television and a book. No part of me really cares about the presidential candidates or pretty red-headed War at the moment.
“Maybe you should call the Agency tomorrow,” I say. Andrew looks up at me and his chin dips in a short nod. His thin arms are folded in his lap. He’s still not sold on the mid-range plan.
“That’s not a bad idea, I will,” he says. He starts to gather up the papers, neatly arranging them back into a pile.
“After all, they can explain it better to you than I can,” I say. I close my book and lay it aside. Andrew rises, returning the stack of contracts and information booklets to the dining room table. He nods and expels a syllable of agreement. I stare at his back then pick up my book again.
“Call them tomorrow?” I ask. A syllable of agreement. I close the book and stare at him. “I’m in the same place you are, I know as much about these programs as you do. The Agency can answer your questions far better than I can right now.”
“I’ll call them,” he says with a slight edge to his tone.
Quickly I seal my lips and keep from saying anything, because nothing could come out of my mouth now that isn't thick with my frustration. I can't push him and I have to be careful not to do that.