The Importance of Being Dangerous by David Dante Troutt Page B

on the checkout line, and Sidarra waited until they were outside the store before she answered that one.
    â€œWell, comfortable means just enough and maybe a little more.”
    â€œWhat’s a little more than just enough?”
    â€œIt could be something a little extra, just in case. It could be something special, like a treat. That’s about it.”
    And for several months, that’s all it was. The $3,000 credit limit on her alias charge card bought the comfort of a new wool pantsuit gracing her skin as she slipped into it. Comfortable meant not being afraid to get help and attention at Bergdorf’s or Bloomingdale’s. And good shoes, not great shoes, not fabulous, but good shoes, more than one pair. And boots for the winter, with strong high heels that lifted her a little taller over her female colleagues and put male colleagues closer to eye level so that no one talked down to her. For many months, that’s what comfortable meant to Sidarra. Comfortable also meant something she could never thank Yakoob enough for: cash advances.
    One Tuesday out of Griff’s earshot she mentioned to Yakoob that she was afraid to shop at the same place twice.
    â€œThat’s probably a good idea,” he said.
    â€œI have a brother, Kenny,” she explained. “Kenny took chances. He’s the only one of us who does. Well, Kenny has spent most of his adult life in prison. He’s a thief. Was a petty thief,” she added nervously. Yakoob just nodded in understanding. “I’m not a thief,” she giggled. “But I’m not trying to get busted.”
    â€œThat’s never gonna happen, Sid.”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œBut you could use a little cash on occasion is what you’re saying.”
    â€œRight.”
    So Yakoob got her a personal identification number for the card, which enabled her to take a cash advance at ATMs—though never the same one twice. Cash advances meant another kind of comfort. It brought Aunt Chickie closer when she needed to be because Sidarra would call up a car service and send for her. It was only ten dollars here and ten dollars there, but it was cash she could never spare so easily before. She and Raquel would have to go get her, or wait for Michael to come down from the Bronx and drive them. It wasn’t even a mile away. The cash advances closed that distance in a hurry.
    With a little more courage, a cash advance could do more wonder than that. The Board of Miseducation had great health benefits for its regular administrators, but Sidarra was irregular; the small staff of Special Programs received the cost-cutting minimum. Sidarra’s health plan got her and Raquel regular checkups at a clinic within walking distance from their home, and the wait was never more than two hours. But there was no dental coverage. By the time Sidarra got through taking care of Raquel’s teeth, her own were left to the team of Dr. Crest, Dr. Colgate, and Trident the hygienist. None of them could fill a cavity or replace a broken filling. Sidarra had two of one and three of the other, which for years she would quietly nurse with Tylenol, finger massages, and true grit. All until cash advances went to work on her smile.
    Just enough and maybe a little more, that’s what comfort felt like. The paint on the walls of her brownstone apartment still cracked and chipped to the floor under the winter’s steam heat. It faded ugly with the sunlight of spring. The gold lamé dress still hung on deposit at the store on 125th Street, but dollar by dollar,the deposit inched upward. Sidarra took care of some things and left others for later. She kept Raquel’s questions to a manageable minimum. She even found a way to take some of that cash advance into a bank and put a little bit of Raquel’s college fund back into a money market account.
    â€œThe rate will change eventually, but right now it’s almost two percent,” said the little