Esperanza was on the verge of tears.

—Calm down. Start from the beginning, he said. —Refresh my memory.

—I have these bills. Before Santo died. You have to help me.

—How much do you owe?

And he started to write down figures for her:

• Original bill, 2,000 dollars
• 40 dollars a month (30 in interest, 10 on principal)
• 18 percent interest

—To pay a bill of two thousand dollars, it will take thirty years. And you will have paid five thousand in interest and two thousand for your original purchase when you’re finally done. You continue this way and you’ll be paying for another twenty-two years.

Esperanza’s eyes welled up. I would’ve spent seven thousand dollars?—I’ll be dead before I see the end of it.

—Hopefully not. The young man started typing some numbers.

—You were smart to come here. But this time, you must follow my advice. First you have to find a way you can pay more than forty dollars a month. A big chunk, to lower the principal. Maybe you can sell something you don’t use. There must be something you have of value.

She thought about the tin can she kept on her dresser. It had been over a year of savings. She had to have at least 365 dollars, but definitely more. —I have a little saved for a house.

The financial adviser passed her some tissue. People at the credit union were staring.

—It’s not easy being alone. I lost my husband five years ago, she said. Why couldn’t her children be professionals? Dallas was still young, but Bobby? She was afraid to ask Bobby for anything. What if he got himself into trouble again? No, he had just come home. It was too soon to ask him for help.

—Look, if you can find a chunk of money, three hundred to five hundred dollars, come to the credit union to get an account. I will help you refinance your debt, with one of our loans so you can start paying less interest. We’ll make a plan. Don’t worry, Ms. Colón, it’s less scary than you think. Maybe we can clear up your debt and get you to start investing. If you had been putting forty dollars toward an investment fund with eight percent interest, instead of paying the minimum on those credit cards, you could’ve had fifteen thousand dollars by now, maybe even more.

—Really? Do you really think I have hope?

—More than hope.

Reality is like the moon. You know it’s there, but you don’t always see it. And if you do acknowledge it, it can only help and maybe even inspire, thought Esperanza. And she wanted to see the moon and jump over it. Something in her life had to change.

She rushed home to look in her tin can. She closed the door behind her and took it over to the bed. The tin was embossed with a nativity scene. Mrs. Hernández had given her the tin of cookies. Chocolate-mint ones.