Seven Months Pregnant, I Stole Husband's Three Thousand, He Jailed Me

After I got pregnant, I lost my only source of income.

So I wouldn't starve, my husband told me to do the housework in exchange for living money.

But I couldn't bend down.

I couldn't reach under the couch.

My feet were swollen.

By the time I got home from buying groceries, he'd already finished his takeout.

I clutched the plastic bag.

I looked at him, at a loss.

He tossed me five dollars.

"That's all there is."

Five dollars wasn't enough for a cab.

I had to squeeze onto the subway both ways.

Back home.

I watched him put together a five-hundred-thousand-dollar welcome package for his new intern.

And finally I broke.

"Jeffrey Mason, I'm your wife! Can't you give me a little more money?"

He snapped a photo of a limited-edition Chanel bag for the intern.

"This is my money."

The further along I got, the less I earned.

That day I was kneeling on the floor, going through his wallet.

He pushed the door open with the intern beside him.

I gripped the three thousand dollars in my hand.

"Please, I'm begging you. Having the baby costs money too!

"I'll pay you back!"

He shook his head.

And reached over and dialed 911.

The policewoman frowned.

"She's doing it to have the baby too. Isn't it your responsibility to give her the money?"

Jeffrey smiled.

"When my dad needed the money for his treatment.

"Didn't she keep a death grip on the family's money then too?"

I lowered my swollen, tear-reddened eyelids.

I wiped my eyes with my puffy hands.

And held them out.

"Go ahead. Arrest me."

...

The two hands I held out trembled faintly.

The handcuffs tightened again and again in the policewoman's grip.

Finally she whipped around.

"Mr. Mason! You really mean to let your pregnant wife go to jail?

"Three thousand dollars is half a day's profit for you. Do you really have to make it this hard for her?

"She's seven months along!"

Jeffrey's hand rested lazily on the waist of the intern, Jean Swanson.

"She's already admitted it. So arrest her."

"You—"

The policewoman stared at him, not without surprise.

Jean covered her lips and smiled.

"You don't know, do you. Back when Mr. Mason's father was critically ill, she was the one in charge of all the family's money.

"Three thousand dollars for the surgery, and she flat-out refused to give it to Mr. Mason.

"And so old Mr. Simmons died full of regret."

At that.

Jean dabbed at the corner of her eye, all regret.

Thinking of his father.

Jeffrey's face darkened a little.

He lit a cigarette with a cold smile.

"When it comes down to it, she brought it on herself."

"This..."

The policewoman couldn't find her words either.

She turned to look at me.

Her tone softened a little.

"Ma'am, is there anything else you'd like to say?"

I lifted my head, eyes red.

Looking at Jeffrey.

"Dad... he knew everything."

Jeffrey went blank.

"What are you talking about?"

Jean looked a little startled.

"Yes, that was the hardest time Mr. Mason ever had, but he handed over his whole salary to you every month.

"Taking a little here and there was one thing, but of all times, when the old man got sick you went and..."

She stopped at just the right moment.

And looked over at Jeffrey.

Jeffrey's brow tightened.

"Take her away."

The handcuffs went on.

My swollen feet made every step hard.

As I passed Jeffrey.

I stumbled and nearly fell.

Jeffrey stepped back.

It was the policewoman who caught me.

I lifted my head.

He had one hand shielding Jean behind him.

His eyes dropped to me without a trace of warmth.

The corner of Jean's mouth curled up in a mocking little smile before she could help it.

I swallowed.

And quietly followed the policewoman out.

In the car.

The policewoman sat beside me.

"Did you really withhold his father's surgery fee back then?"

I looked out the window.

"There really was no money."

"How could that be?"

The policewoman was taken aback.

I gave a bitter laugh.

"Don't look at his seven- or eight-figure salary now. In the beginning, he and I both only made five or six thousand.

"He handed it all to me to manage.

"Rent in Los Angeles isn't cheap.

"After the rent and utilities, after the daily necessities, and with my mother-in-law's asthma, I had to set aside part of it for her medicine.

"Whatever was left, sometimes I still had to borrow from a friend."

Pity flickered in the policewoman's eyes.

She pressed her lips together.

"I know. It was the same for me when I first started.

"I still had to lean on my parents to get by..."

I gave a bitter smile.

The car fell silent.