I looked at this man who had shared a bed with me for three years. Not only did he not have my back, he thought I was the one being unreasonable.
I didn't say anything. Just went back to the bedroom.
You can't reason with someone this spineless.
Early the next morning, before I'd even brushed my teeth, someone was pounding on the door hard enough to shake the walls. The second I opened it, Lola bulldozed her way in. She didn't even take off her shoes—just made a beeline for the pile of unopened delivery boxes in the corner.
Riiip.
She tore into a package with her bare hands and yanked out the face towels inside.
"I came to see what you've been buying every single day, all these precious things. I'm checking for Alex so he doesn't get the family savings emptied out by some spendthrift woman!"
I looked at Alex, who had just shuffled out of the bedroom. Not only did he not stop her—he walked over, pulled open the TV stand drawer, fished out a handful of shopping receipts, and handed them to his mom.
"Mom, look at these. Last week's supermarket receipts. Check if anything shouldn't have been spent. I'll keep a closer eye on her from now on."
I laughed—actually laughed out loud.
Fine. You want to audit me? Let's audit.
"Go ahead! Look all you want! Not just last year—this year, the year before, I'll give you everything. And starting today, I'm done managing this household's finances. Whoever wants the job can have it!"
Lola snatched my phone in one grab and plopped down on the couch. She licked her index finger, then jabbed at the screen.
"Oh! Cherries? $299 a box? Is this thing made of gold? You eat it and live forever?"
"Starbucks? Twenty-eight dollars for bitter water? Does Alex print money? You're sitting at home doing nothing and drinking coffee this expensive—you're drinking my son's blood!"
"And what's this? Yoga classes? Two thousand dollars? You learning poses or learning to burn cash? Mop the floor—you'll lose the weight anyway!"
Every line, she lifted her head to glare at me, spit flying. Alex nodded along beside her like a bobblehead. "Yes, yes, Mom's right. The yoga class really isn't necessary. We won't sign up again."
Lola slapped the phone onto the coffee table and announced:
"This can't go on. From now on, Alex's paycheck goes to me. You want to spend money? File a request. A stalk of scallions, a head of garlic—you explain to me exactly how much and why."
I crossed my arms. "And the IVF next month? The deposit alone is $30,000."
I'd been trying to get pregnant for two years with no luck. Quitting my job, staying home to rest—it was all to prepare for IVF.
Lola sighed dramatically. "We've spent so much money and your belly's still flat. I don't think there's any rush to throw more at it. I know a folk remedy—drink enough of it and you'll definitely conceive."
I didn't say another word. Turned around, went back to the bedroom, pulled out my phone, and dialed my former boss directly.
"Hello, Mr. Lambert. That project—do you still need people? Yes. I can start anytime."
Since everyone thinks I'm a reckless spender, fine. I won't spend a dime.
Let's see what kind of life the Finch family can live without me, the "spendthrift woman."
I cut off the supply completely.
When the toilet paper ran out, it got replaced by the stuff Lola bought by the pound at the morning market. Rough as sandpaper—one wipe and it shed crumbs. Press too hard and it'd scrape you raw.
The organic vegetables that used to fill the fridge? Gone. Now it was wilted clearance greens from the supermarket's 8 p.m. markdown bin, and freezer-burned mystery meat that had been frozen since god knows when.
