Monday, September 25, 2006

Arthur: Money, Honey.

I don't think I mentioned this earlier, but I was kind of working Elizabeth's job for free for the past couple weeks. At least it felt that way; Elizabeth is paid via direct deposit and her ATM card was not something she included with her luggage. I didn't think it was a big deal at first, since I figured I'd cash her check and start a new checking account. Besides, who wants to just leave their ATM card around for a stranger to find? Maybe you'll get lucky and the nightmare will end, and you'd rather not have your account depleted.

But, once I started to assume her life, things got tricky. I'd done the same thing, and kept my ATM card, but I gave it to Jeremy after withdrawing a couple hundred bucks last Wednesday. The plan had been to go to the bank and report my card stolen, but what if they ask for a PIN or something? Describing why it's identity theft is an amusing thought, but no-one will believe me anyway.

Fortunately, it doesn't look like it'll come to that. I got an envelope in the mail today that had "Elizabeth Lee" on it - just like that, in quotes. The postmark was from Montreal, which was kind of unexpected. I'm glad it had the quotes as some kind of signal that it's supposed to be for me. I'm still a little nervous opening Liz's mail, which is silly, considering I wear her clothes and sleep next to her boyfriend and I can't make people believe I'm not her. I still don't want to invade her privacy any more than I absolutely have to, even though that seems to be a lot.

So, I open it up, and the first thing that falls out is a debit card, along with another letter from the real Elizabeth Lee. She says that she's living in Montreal under the name of Marie Desjardins, but not to write to her or try to communicate unless it's a real emergency. Marie's boyfriend is bad news, and jealous at that, and he's already kind of freaking out over her suddenly being much more comfortable speaking l'anglais. Heck, part of the reason she was sending me her old ATM card was so that he wouldn't find it and ask questions. She says that if I need to get in touch with her, it's probably best to do it through Ashlyn. I got her address for Jean-Michel Therriot, which is apparently Ashlyn's new name. But contact her sparingly, too.

This makes things a little easier, I guess, but it also pulls me into her life deeper. I'm not writing anything but this right now; I'm working her job. Now I'm just a little deeper into her life. Convenient or not, it's not the direction I want to be going.


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