Marcus - Part 2

February 2027

Marcus sat at his home office desk in a button-up shirt and slacks, laptop open, spreadsheet of job applications in one tab, LinkedIn in another. Through the closed door, he could hear NPR playing on their Alexa in the kitchen.

He’d applied to forty-seven jobs since January. Four callbacks. Two phone screens. No second interviews. The rejection emails all sounded the same: We appreciate your interest... decided to move forward with other candidates... wish you the best in your search.

This morning’s email was worse. A senior analyst role at a competitor. He’d made it to the final round.

“After careful consideration, we’ve selected a candidate with more recent AI-collaboration experience. Given the rapid evolution of market intelligence tools, we’re prioritizing candidates who have demonstrated proficiency in building next-generation platforms.”

AI-collaboration experience. He had that but only indirectly. At Ventus, he hadn’t worked with the platform directly. That was Jeff and the product team’s job. Then he’d review the reports to make sure they were sound. He puffed up his cheeks and let the air out slowly. The thing that took his job was now the reason he couldn’t get a new one.

Marcus opened the Texas Workforce Commission unemployment portal. He’d bookmarked it weeks ago but hadn’t been able to pull the trigger. He filled in his name, his social, and his former employer. The form asked for a mailing address.

He stopped.

The confirmation would come to the house. Jess might see the envelope, and if she did, she’d have questions.

Marcus closed the tab.

From the kitchen, he heard the NPR host introducing a segment: “Congresswoman Danielle Morrison of Texas is pushing her colleagues to pass the AI Transition Workforce Act. She aims to expand unemployment benefits and create retraining programs for workers displaced by artificial intelligence. Critics say the bill amounts to a handout for people who should simply adapt to the new economy...”

He closed the entire browser.

Marcus groaned as he leaned back in his chair to check the bank accounts on his phone. The transfer of the severance check money from his secret bank account to the joint account hit on the fifteenth of every month. He double checked. The numbers looked good. The amounts matched his old paychecks plus some to account for his “raise.” His stomach churned. It didn’t feel right, but he’d figure it all out. Right?

—

Later that afternoon, Marcus picked Nina up from school before getting started on dinner. Nina grabbed a spot on the couch in the living room and started streaming some cartoons. The chicken was in the oven when Jess got home with Caleb.

“Dad, can I use the Xbox?” Caleb asked, dropping his backpack by the door.

“Homework first.”

“I don’t have any.”

“Then help your sister set the table.”

“But she’s not doing anything. She’s just watching TV,” Caleb complained.

“Caleb!” Marcus snapped.

Caleb flinched, and Nina looked up from the couch.

“Fine.” Caleb grabbed the plates and silverware from the cabinet, making his anger known by clattering them out loudly onto the table.

Jess came into the kitchen, setting down a brown paper pharmacy bag with Caleb’s seizure medication in it. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Marcus turned back to the stove. “I had a long day. The new role is harder than expected.”

She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist as he pushed sizzling vegetables around the frying pan. “I’m proud of you, you know,” said Jess. “Senior Analyst. You’re finally getting the recognition you deserve.”

Marcus kept stirring.

Late March 2027

Another rejection. Marcus was sitting in his car outside a Panera, his laptop open on the passenger seat as he compulsively refreshed his email every few minutes. The email was from a logistics company. He was so sure the interview had gone well, but it was just more of the usual.

“We’ve chosen to pursue candidates whose skill sets more closely align with our evolving technological ecosystem.”

Marcus closed the laptop. A spring rainstorm had just thundered in. Rain drummed the roof of his car and ran down the windshield in thick sheets. The last of his severance check hit the account three days ago. There was nothing left. Nothing.

His chest tightened.

Marcus gripped the steering wheel, white-knuckled. He felt his heart start to pound. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead onto the backs of his hands. The rain thundered down. Marcus tried to take a breath, but it came in shallow. His hands started to shake. The rain blurred the parking lot into smears of gray and yellow. He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, heart hammering. What about Nina’s soccer? Or Caleb’s medication?

He couldn’t breathe.

He sat back in the driver’s seat and loosened his tie. Why was he even wearing one? Who was it for? He undid the top button of his shirt. The air was too thick, unbreathable. Everything on the edge of his vision started going dark. Was he dying? Was this a stroke?

Fumbling with the door handle, Marcus managed to get the door open. Rain poured in as he gasped for fresh air, but the air was thick with the rain. Time seemed to slow as he sat there, hunched over and shaking against the open door, his eyes wide and hand on his chest. All he could hear was the thundering rain, his heart pounding in his chest.

What about Jess? Oh, God, what about Jess? He was such a failure. What if she found out? Would she leave him? Would she take the kids?

A woman walked past his car, her umbrella low against the rain. She glanced at Marcus and saw him, an unfamiliar man with his car door open, gasping, soaking wet from the rain. She didn’t look him in the eye. She looked down at the ground and quickened her pace as she walked away.

Marcus couldn’t move. He felt weak, his whole body still shaking.

All he could do was focus on his breathing. How long was it? Five minutes? Ten? The storm passed, and the rain ebbed to a patter. He could breathe again, but he was left soaked and trembling. And he was alone. Alone in his car. Alone in the parking lot. Alone and terrified of losing everything.

That same evening

Marcus got home before Jess. He changed before anyone else got home and threw his wet clothes in the dryer.

The dinner he made was simple: just some pasta and a marinara. Nina told a story about her teacher’s dog, who had apparently eaten someone’s homework while she was grading, so for once it wasn’t a lie. Caleb had a story about science class. A couple of kids were throwing a crumpled-up piece of paper around like a ball, and one of them bumped into the class terrarium. Now, Rufus the bearded dragon was going to live with their teacher for a bit. Jess’s day was busy. The rain led to an unusual number of car accidents, and the hospital had to shuffle staff around to make sure the patients could be properly stabilized and treated. Marcus told everyone it was another busy day.

“Caleb,” Nina was jumping around in the conversation, “can you bring Rufus here? We can take care of him.”

Caleb offered Nina an exaggerated smile. “No way,” he said, finishing the last of the pasta on his plate. “Bearded dragons love to eat the fingers of little kids.”

Nina’s eyes went wide as she swung around to Jess. “Mom? Is that true?”

Jess laughed as she shook her head. “No, of course not.” She turned to Caleb. “Stop trying to scare your sister.”

Caleb shrugged.

“Alright, kiddos,” Jess stood up and walked her plate to the kitchen. “Please clear the table.”

“But I cleared it last time,” Nina complained.

“You did not,” Caleb said.

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

Nina squealed, and the kids both laughed as Caleb tried to catch Nina as she ran off into the living room.

“Hey!” Marcus yelled. “Clear the table. Both of you. Now!”

Immediately, Marcus felt guilty. That was louder than he’d intended. The kids froze, and the house got quiet. Nina’s face went red, Caleb stared, and Jess was still.

“Go on,” Marcus said, quieter now.

Without saying anything, the kids cleared the table before going upstairs. When they were gone, Jess turned to Marcus, who was at the kitchen sink, turning on the hot water.

“What was that?” Jess stood on the other side of the kitchen counter with her arms crossed.

Marcus could feel her staring him down, but he didn’t turn to look at her. “It’s nothing.” He picked up a plate and started rinsing off the streaks of marinara. The water was still too cold. “I’m just tired.”

“You said that last time,” she said. “You never used to yell at the kids.”

He couldn’t look at Jess. So he looked anywhere else. The plate that was slick with suds and pasta sauce. The window over the sink that was dark and reflecting his rigid face back at him. That spot on the floor where he’d dropped a dish, and it’d chipped the tile.

“It’s the promotion,” he lied. “More responsibility. More pressure. I’m still adjusting.”

The only sound was that of the water running. Nothing from upstairs.

Jess uncrossed her arms. “Okay. Just... talk to me, okay? I’m here.”

“Sure.”

Later that night, after Jess had gone to bed, Marcus was standing at the kitchen counter with his laptop open. The whole house was dark, and the only light was that coming from the screen, casting an eerie blue-white glow across the kitchen and the living room.

He had their joint bank account open in one tab and his secret bank account open in another. The account that once held his severance check was down to $3.27. From here on out, every dollar that went out was a dollar they didn’t have coming in.

He opened another tab. Plasma donation centers in Austin. BioLife paid $50 for the first visit, $75 for the second. He could do it twice a week. That was $500 a month if he kept at it.

He opened another tab. Credit cards. They had a joint card with a $15,000 limit. It was mostly for emergencies. But that would show up on statements Jess could see.

He typed: Credit card with low APR

The results loaded. He clicked through to a bank he recognized and started the application. Name. Address. Income.

The text cursor blinked in the income field. What should he put? Zero? His old salary?

He put his old salary.

A creak on the stairs. Marcus’s heart skipped a beat as he switched over to a different browser with an old spreadsheet.

Jess appeared at the bottom of the stairs, rubbing her eyes as she tried to see in the dimly lit kitchen. “Babe? It’s late. Are you coming to bed?”

“Yeah. Just finishing something up. Another deadline.”

She walked over and wrapped her arms around him. She was so warm, her hands soft. Marcus felt a pang of guilt, of love, of desire, all of it twisted and confused.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Jess whispered before kissing him on his neck and disappearing back upstairs.

Marcus stood there, heart pounding, the kitchen counter cold under his palms.

May 2027

Marcus was at the CVS pharmacy, Caleb’s prescription bag in one hand, the secret credit card in the other. He was tapping it on the counter as he stared at the card reader. The pharmacist, a middle-aged woman with reading glasses on a chain, squinted at her screen.

“It looks like your insurance changed. That’s why your copay went up,” she said. She grimaced. “It’s $340 now.”

Marcus nodded, the now all-too-familiar knot twisting in his stomach. They’d switched over to Jess’s insurance after he got the “promotion.” He’d explained away the loss of his insurance as a corporate restructure. The “raise” was supposed to make up for it. He stared at the credit card machine, and the $340 stared back at him. The copay used to be $180.

“Have you looked into assistance programs?” the pharmacist asked. “With that amount, you might qualify…”

“No.” Marcus cut her off. “It’s fine. It’s just temporary.”

He swiped the credit card, the one Jess didn’t know about. It was already carrying $4,200 in groceries, gas, and the minimum payments on their joint card to keep Jess from noticing the accounts were off.

He’d also taken out a title loan on his car. $3,000 against his Honda Civic, due in 90 days at 15% interest. The paperwork was hidden in a folder in his desk drawer, under some old tax returns.

The credit card machine dinged. The transaction went through.

Two weeks later. The first week of June, 2027.

Marcus came home that evening, his arm sore from donating plasma a few hours before. It was his sixth time doing so in the last few weeks. To his surprise, Jess was sitting at the dining table alone. The kitchen and dining table were clean and the kids must have been upstairs.

In front of Jess was an open envelope. She was holding a credit card statement.

Marcus’s stomach dropped through the floor.

Jess’s jaw was set. Her posture was upright and stiff. She held up the statement. “Explain this,” she said. Her voice was calm and measured. Somehow, that was worse than yelling.

Marcus set down his keys on the kitchen counter. His hands were already shaking. “Where did you find that?”

“It came in the mail. It’s addressed to you from a bank we’ve never had an account with.” She picked up the statement and read from it. “$6,847.32. Cash advances. CVS. HEB. Gas stations.” She put the piece of paper down on the table and flattened it out. “Marcus, what is this?”

He stood across from her. His mouth was dry, making it hard to form words as his tongue stuck to his palate and his teeth. “It’s…” He reached for the statement.

Jess had her hand on it. She inched it back. “No. Explain.”

“I was… I was trying to…” Marcus was stumbling over his words. “It’s for emergencies. A backup, you know, in case…”

“Backup for what?” Jess asked. Her eyes were red, but she wasn’t crying. She was beyond that. “What kind of emergency needs a secret credit card?”

“Jess…”

“And this.” She pulled another piece of paper out from under the credit card statement. It was the title loan agreement. Marcus’s throat tightened. She’d been in his desk. “You put your car up as collateral? For what? What have you been doing?”

Marcus’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“When did you lose your job, Marcus?”

The question hung in the air. He was frozen. He watched Jess’s face shift from genuine confusion to suspicion to something colder as she watched him shrink in his chair.

“What…” Marcus fumbled. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t.” Jess’s voice cracked. “Don’t you dare. I called Ventus today. I was going to surprise you, take you out to lunch to celebrate your promotion. I thought, wouldn’t that be a treat? He’s clearly been so stressed lately. Why don’t I do something nice for him? I took off work and everything.”

Marcus sat down. His legs wouldn’t hold him up any longer.

“Jeff was just as surprised as I was. He said you haven’t worked there since January. January, Marcus. That was five months ago.”

Marcus put his head in his hands. He couldn’t look at her.

“When did you lose your job?”

“You already know,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Jeff’s right. My last day was January seventh.”

Silence. The AC kicked in, and the vents creaked and groaned as the pressure in the house changed. The neighbor’s dog barked.

“Five months.” Jess’s voice was shaking now. “You looked me in the eye every single day for five months. You told me about meetings. About projects. You even made up the promotion, didn’t you? All while what? Sitting in parking lots? Lying about going to work?”

“I was trying to protect you…”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Marcus flinched. Jess’s lips narrowed into a thin white line. She never swore.

“Don’t you dare make this about protecting me,” she said. “You were just protecting yourself.”

“That’s not…”

“How much do we owe, Marcus? Total. Right now.”

He tried to do the math in his head, but he could barely think straight. The credit card. The title loan. The overdrawn checking account. “About eight thousand.”

Jess took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“I thought I could fix it,” Marcus said. “I’m well qualified. I thought it’d just take a few weeks…”

Jess held up a hand and stopped him. “It doesn’t matter, Marcus. You lied to me. Every single day. For months.” She stood up, pushing the chair back with her legs. It scraped against along tile. “I can handle almost anything, Marcus. I can handle you losing your job. I can handle the money troubles. I can handle being scared. But I can’t handle not being able to trust you.”

“Jess…”

“Don’t.” She was gathering her keys, her purse off the kitchen counter. “I’m going to my sister’s.”

“But the kids…” Marcus was out of steam. He felt hollowed out.

“Figure it out. Tell them whatever you want. You’re good at that.”

She walked to the door. Marcus stood up, but he didn’t follow. What could he even say?

Jess paused with her hand on the doorknob. When she turned, her face was streaked with the tears she’d finally stopped fighting.

“If you lie to me again,” she said, “we’re done. And I’ll take the kids.”

She closed the door behind her, not with a slam, but with a quiet click.