Pennies for Him, Freedom for Me
As soon as I get off the surgical table after my miscarriage, my husband, Presley Quinn, sends me a text message.
"You were ten cents short when you paid your share of the power bill this month. Transfer the money to me immediately."
I can only sit on the cold bench in the hospital on my own. The anesthesia has yet to wear out, but my belly is already hurting so much that I can practically feel it constricting on itself.
The next thing I know, a new post appears on my social media homepage. It's a post made by Vivienne Ashford, the intern Presley is in charge of tutoring.
In the photo, Vivienne can be seen holding a bouquet of flowers folded from money bills. A bright and radiant smile blooms on her face.
The four-leaf clover necklace adorning her neck is the same necklace I've seen in Presley's purchase history two days ago.
The caption of the photo writes, "I don't want a lot of money. I want a ton of love instead."
Only then do I remember that today is Valentine's Day as well as my fifth-year anniversary with Presley.
Over the past five years, Presley and I have been splitting every single bill, down to two decimal places.
If I take a shower for more than 20 minutes, Presley demands that I pay extra for the water heater's power bill.
When I cook myself some supper in the middle of the night, Presley wants me to split the gas bill generated by the stove.
Even when my mom is hospitalized due to kidney failure and is waiting for her surgical bills to be settled, Presley refuses to lend me a single cent. Instead, he sends me a few links leading to web loans.
As I stare at the social media feed, I chuckle all of a sudden.
It turns out that Presley does know how to spend money. It's just that he doesn't have the heart to spend it on me.
I smile once again as I leave a like on the post. Then, I transfer the ten cents to Presley.
From now on, I don't owe him any single penny.