Alani was grateful to be tapped out the ring. She stood to her feet, finally having an excuse to run from the room. As she stepped into the hall, the woman’s expression caused Alani to frown.

“Your insurance company says the policy has lapsed. You do not have a current life insurance policy. Is there another policy, perhaps, at home?” the woman asked.

“What do you mean? I pay this policy every month,” Alani whispered, her face heating with embarrassment.

“I’m only delivering the information as it was told to me,” the woman replied. She handed Alani the documents back. “You can call them to find out more. Can you take a loan from the bank or a family member, in the meantime, to cover the burial expenses?”

Alani snatched the papers out of the woman’s hands. “There’s no one. It’s just me. It’s always on me,” she mumbled those last words, as she gathered her shame. “I need to call about the policy. I’ll be back.”

The rain welcomed her back. This time, she was grateful for it. It mixed with her tears, helping to hide her torment, as she rushed back to her car. She pulled out her phone, but as she went to dial the number on the rain-stained papers, she heard the automated voice echo in her ear. “Please contact AT&T about your account.”

Alani tossed the phone at the dash board, as frustration mounted, and she gripped her steering wheel in ire. Nothing could ever be easy. Every day was always one, big struggle. She was always behind, always robbing Peter to pay Paul, always playing catch up. She had managed over the years. She had always been able to make the pieces to the puzzle fit. Sure, things were paid late, but they were always paid. This time, she didn’t know if she would be able to pull it off. Her mind wasn’t even in the right state for her to think of how to make the impossible possible. Right now, she just wanted to have a hall pass, not to cheat, but to cry. It seemed black women were never given that luxury of emotional release. Her mind was submerged in grief and that blocked all logical thought. All she knew was that she didn’t have the money she needed, and the fact that her daughter and brother were lying on a cold slab, waiting for her to come to the rescue, was damaging to her soul. She had always been their nurturer, their problem solver, and now she felt useless. She found her car key and went to turn over the ignition. The sound of it revving and then stalling caused her to laugh.

“Of course,” she said, in disbelief. Her car wasn’t starting. “When it rains, it fucking pours.”