Chapter 3
Margaret's face froze, totally caught off guard.
She opened her mouth, struggling for words, but for a long moment, nothing came out.
Carl looked painfully uncomfortable.
I ignored them both and headed straight for my bedroom.
At dinner, Carl and Margaret kept dropping hints about Henry's birthday, hoping I'd cave in.
"So, Henry, any special requests for your birthday dinner?" Carl asked.
Henry perked up, grinning. "Pot roast!"
Carl glanced at me, but since I just kept my head down and ate, he ended up glaring at Margaret.
She jumped in right away.
"Pot roast. What a good choice. I actually saw a lovely cut at the butcher's this morning," she said.
"Just butchered this morning—so fresh. If we roast it, Henry will definitely love it," she added, grinning at Henry.
Carl jumped in, "Yeah, meat's not that expensive these days. Two pounds is around 20 dollars.
"A birthday should have meat.
"Remember Henry's birthday two years ago? We did the whole spread."
I watched them tag-team, but neither would just say it outright.
They just didn't want to be the ones spending money, but they still wanted the meat. They just needed me to be the one to buy it. That way, later, they could turn around and blame me for it.
"She just doesn't know how to manage money. Always wasting it." They'd have another story to tell the neighbors.
Thinking about this, I looked up and smiled.
"Wasn't it you, Margaret, who complained about that whole spread for a full year afterward?" I said.
"I've learned my lesson this time. I'm not buying anything extra," I added.
As soon as I said that, the atmosphere at the table instantly froze.
Carl's fork stopped mid-air, and the cabbage leaf he was holding fell back into his plate.
He looked at me, frowning.
Margaret's face tightened, and she stammered, "Th-That's not..."
I set my fork down and gave them my most obedient smile.
"I'm finished. Margaret, don't forget to pick up plenty of vegetables tomorrow," I said.
They didn't say another word, just kept their heads down and ate in silence.
But I could tell they were still hoping I'd cave.
They were still waiting for me to fold. They must have thought I was bluffing—that when tomorrow came, I'd sneak out and buy meat anyway, just like I always did before.
*****
At the crack of dawn the next day, Margaret was already pacing around the living room, making a show of it.
"Oh boy, the market's gonna be packed today. If you don't get to the butcher early, all the good cuts will be gone," she said, dropping not-so-subtle hints.
Carl heard her and gave me a nudge.
I pushed his hand away, rolled over, and went right back to sleep.
I headed to work a little later than he did.
Before heading out, he reminded me, "Henry's bringing his friends over for lunch. Just handle it, okay?"
I just gave a noncommittal grunt and kept eating my breakfast.
*****
When I came home after work, Margaret was sitting right there in the living room.
Her eyes went straight to my hands, and when she saw them empty, her composure cracked.
"You didn't swing by the butcher's on your way back?" she blurted out.
"Why would I go to the butcher's?" I asked, acting clueless.
Margaret just kept fiddling with her clothes, mumbling for ages.
"Henry's bringing his friends over soon," she said, sounding a little anxious.
"Yeah, I know. I'll just make do with what you brought home," I replied.
With that, I turned and headed into the kitchen.
The greens Margaret had scavenged that morning were already limp and sad-looking.
I sorted through them and managed to salvage just enough for one proper dish.
I added yesterday's leftover cabbage and a few potatoes from the pantry.
In the end, there were only three plates—a simple salad, plain mashed potatoes, and buttered cabbage.
I'd used the barest hint of butter, salt, and pepper—frugal, just like they'd always preached.