"You're the father, I'm not. Take some responsibility!""I'm doing the best I can! Listen, Melinda. The Depression's getting the best of everyone. It's turning businessmen into egg-sellers in the blink of an eye. And the dominoes just keep falling. You can't do anything about it, and neither can I."
"REALLY! Say that to the bills piled on the desk, the empty cupboards, and the eviction notice!"
"Don't try to hide anything from me! I found it in the drawer yesterday!" There was a pause.
She tried to calm herself. She took a deep breath. In a quiet, shaky voice, she said,
"How are we going to tell the kids?"
She waited for a reply.
Her husband put his head in his hands.
"I don't know," he said finally.
Melinda wasn't satisfied, but she let it go - after all, she couldn't come up with anything better. She didn't even have the nerve to ask where they would live. They both sat there in silence. It was late at night. They might go to sleep, but their problems wouldn't. There were so many other questions, but they all had the same answer: I don't know.
Finally, Melinda decided to call it a night. She went to the bedroom, and laid her head on the pillow. She memorized those four walls, because she knew it might be their last night there.