Chapter 1
I worked tirelessly to run the household, but Margaret Fisher, my mother-in-law, always said I spent too much.
Every time I spent a dime, she'd be on my case about it.
She'd say, "Why bother buying groceries? Just pick up whatever's left at the market."
And if we ran out of medicine, she'd shrug and say, "Why take medicine? Just build up your body a bit, and you'll fight it off."
If the wiring sparked, she would say, "Don't call an electrician. Fix it yourself. No point wasting money."
Back then, I thought these were normal costs—things you just had to pay for.
Eventually, my husband, Carl Fisher, decided I was hopeless with money, always throwing it away.
Once our son, Henry Fisher, was grown, he saw the neighbors spoiling their kids with new cars and houses, and he'd complain that I never managed to save a dime.
Then when I fell ill and landed in the hospital, they wouldn't even pay for my medicine. In the end, they just let me die there, alone.
They told me it was my own fault. If only I'd saved a little, I wouldn't be in this mess, and I'd have money for treatment.
When I got a second chance at life, I did exactly what they wanted and started pinching every penny. And guess what? They ended up regretting it.
*****
Staring at the meat on the counter, I realized I had gone back. This was one specific day from my previous life.
While I was still spaced out, the butcher called out to me.
"Need pork, ma'am? Fresh this morning. How much?" he asked.
That snapped me back. This was the same stall I had always bought meat from before.
Every time I brought meat home, Margaret would always gripe about it.
She'd nag, "Do you really need that much? Did you ever think about saving?
"All you ever do is spend money. Why not just pick up what's left at the market? instead of buying groceries?"
"My poor son. He must have done something awful to get a wife who throws money away like this."
After a while, her griping became the soundtrack of my life.
It didn't matter what I spent on. She always had something to say.
At first, Carl and Henry were on my side.
But after a while, even Carl began to believe it and see me as careless with money, just like she said.
"Give her a dollar," he'd say, "and she'd spend two. Never saved a cent in her life."
As Henry grew up and saw the neighbors buying their kids cars and houses, his attitude shifted too.
He started pointing fingers at me too, blaming my spending for our empty savings account.
He believed if I had listened to Margaret, we wouldn't be scraping by like this.
When I got sick and was stuck in the hospital, I begged them to help me, but they wouldn't pay for my medicine. They just watched me waste away in that hospital bed.
They said I'd brought it on myself. If I'd only been thriftier, they said, I'd have had the money to get well.
But after I was gone, Carl pulled out 700,000 dollars for Henry's wedding. Just like that.
So the money was always there. It just wasn't ever meant for me.
Given a second chance at this life, and with Margaret's harsh words echoing in my mind, I shook my head at the butcher.
"No, thank you. Not today," I said.
The butcher looked surprised. "Passing on it today? This is the fresh batch. Last time you said it was your son's birthday and asked me to set aside two pounds for you."
"Not this time," I replied.
*****
When I got home, Carl looked at the cabbage in my hands and just froze for a second.
He finally snapped out of it and scratched his head, asking, "Why didn't you get any meat? Isn't Henry's birthday tomorrow?"
I forced a smile, swallowing my anger.
"Meat's expensive. You're always telling me to pinch pennies, aren't you?" I said.
"Didn't you say I blow every cent you give me and never save a thing?" I added.
I paused, tossing his old words right back at him. "And you always mention how Mrs. Next Door makes do on 800 dollars a month, and how I'm never satisfied, even with 1,500 dollars.
"So now I'm doing what you wanted. I'm saving. And suddenly, that's wrong too?"
"But..." he muttered.
Carl frowned, his eyes locked on the cabbage in my hands.
He opened his mouth, ready to argue, but nothing came out.
He had said all those things, after all.
Every time Margaret complained about me spending too much, he'd either agree with her or stay silent.
Over time, he'd really started to believe I couldn't manage a household.
But now, with me coming home with just a cabbage, it didn't sit right with him.
"But we can't just serve cabbage for Henry's birthday, can we?" he muttered.
I looked him straight in the eye. "Last time I made a big dinner for Henry's birthday. Margaret nagged me about it for a whole year.
"She told me again this morning not to buy any meat.
"You didn't say a word back to her then, did you?"
He was just about to say something when Margaret walked in.