BR - Real life

“Love?” Beth says kindly.

It’s afternoon, and Beth’s been watching TV in the suite’s main room. You had lunch at a nice restaurant a few hours ago, but now you have an email from FUTA and you’re trying to make sense of it. It’s about money and your contract and stuff.

“Huh?” you look up at her.

“Are you OK?” she asks, looking a bit worried. She can probably see how bad you are at this stuff.

“Just, uh, trying to do money stuff,” you say, embarrassed. “I should probably call my mom.”

“Maybe I can help,” she says, sitting down beside you. Your suite has a cute table by the balcony. You’re getting used to hotels; it might be tough to go back to the cabins at FUTA after this break in the season.

“What did you do with this?” you ask, handing her your phone with the complicated documents pulled up.

“Oh. You don’t have to do anything with it,” she says with a smile. “It’s just FUTA making you an offer, Riley.”

“Offering what?”

“Financial advisors. I suppose it’s because we’re all young. They must’ve done a contract with this company. They think because we don’t all have agents or managers that we might need help with money.”

“Help with money? But they pay us pretty good money,” you say.

“No, help with what to do with the money,” Beth explains patiently. “What have you been doing with yours? If it’s not too personal,” she adds politely.

“Well, I have a scholarship for soccer,” you say, embarrassed. “So I don’t have tuition. I was just putting it in the bank.”

“What sort of account?” Beth asks.

“Uh…” you reply. “A bank account?”

She gazes at you for a moment. Then she reaches out and pats your hand. “Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to fill that out,” she says, handing the phone back.

“What for?”

“To have a financial advisor. It’s not scary. I can go with you, if you like.”

“All right,” you say uncertainly, beginning to type with your thumbs. “What?” you say, seeing her looking at you.

“I love you very much, Riley.”

“I love you too,” you reply uneasily.

She rests her chin on her hand and watches you fiddling with your phone to get the form submitted. “You’re lucky you’re with me and not with Duni. She’d be going on about compound interest right now.”

“About what?”

“Nothing. You’ll see. Done?”

“Done,” You say, frowning. “They have an appointment open today.”

“Perfect. Let’s get dressed.”

You sit there and watch her get up and head for her suitcase. Great. Money stuff. Very exciting and romantic. Is this adulthood? When did that happen?