Chapter 2

Myron opened his mouth but said nothing.

I turned to the teller. "Could you reset my password and print out my transaction history?"

Myron grabbed my hand.

"Alison, what are you trying to do?" he asked.

I pulled my hand away.

"I want to know where all my money went," I said.

It had been eight years.

It was neither an especially long nor a particularly short stretch of time.

Myron and I met through a blind date. He was three years older than me, worked at a design firm, and made over four thousand dollars a month.

At the time, I had only been out of college for two years, making two thousand dollars a month, and I thought he was a pretty good catch.

He was good to me, too.

He always fought to pick up the check when we went out, never missed a holiday gift, and would take care of me when I wasn't feeling well.

Before we got married, he said, "Honey, I don't care about your house or your money. I just want you."

I was so touched.

The first month after we got married, he volunteered to handle our finances.

"I'll keep track of the accounts. You just spend whatever you want," he said.

I thought he was being considerate.

After that, my payroll account stayed in the drawer at home, barely used all year.

Whenever I needed to spend money, I'd tell him, and he'd give it to me.

For the first few years, he gave me the money without hesitation.

Needed new clothes? He'd send it. Had to attend a friend's wedding and bring a gift? He'd cover it. Even when I wanted to buy something for my parents, he'd transfer the money right away.

But things started to change.

When my mom's birthday came around, I wanted to buy her an emerald bracelet.

"That's over four thousand dollars," he said. "It's way too expensive."

"Can't I use the money in my own account?" I asked.

"That's our savings. If you spend it whenever you want, how are we supposed to buy a house?" he replied.

I didn't say anything.

I ended up buying my mom a crystal bracelet for two hundred dollars.

Last year, my mom's back was giving her trouble, and I wanted to get her a massage chair.

Myron frowned. "A massage chair? That thing's pointless. It's just for comfort, nothing more."

"Even a cheap one that costs around 700 dollars or 1,000 dollars would be fine," I said.

He shook his head.

"We don't have spare money for that," he replied.

I couldn't figure it out.

He earned five thousand a month, and I earned three thousand. We had no mortgage. Our child went to public kindergarten. Our monthly expenses were at most four thousand.

So where did all the money go?

"Don't we have any savings?" I asked.

"We've saved a little, but not much," he said. "I need to keep it for the future."

"For what?" I asked.

"Buying a house, getting a new car, our kid's education. There's always something that needs money," he replied.

I thought that made sense.

After all, having some savings made life feel a little more secure.

I didn't ask any more questions.

Then his mom ended up in the hospital with acute appendicitis and needed surgery.

The surgery and hospital stay came to four thousand dollars.

Myron said, "Honey, there's no money in our account right now. Can you borrow some from your mom?"

I was stunned.

"No money in the account?" I repeated.

Myron shrugged. "I put all our cash into an investment. It's all tied up right now."

I let it go and called my mom, asking if I could borrow five thousand dollars.

My mom sent the money over without a word.

Myron said he'd pay her back, but a year and a half went by and he still hadn't. In the end, I had to pinch pennies from our daily budget to pay my mom back myself.

Then there was our kid's kindergarten.

I wanted her to go to a good private school, but the tuition was ten thousand dollars a year.

Myron said it was way too expensive.

"Public kindergarten is great. It only costs hundreds of dollars a month," he said.

I said education shouldn't be skimped on.

He said, "We just can't afford it."

We couldn't afford it?

We were making almost 100 thousand dollars a year together, and we still couldn't send our kid to a good kindergarten?

I bit back my anger.

After all, the public kindergarten wasn't that bad.

After all these years, I had gotten used to this routine.

Before buying anything, I'd always check with him first.

If he said yes, I would buy it.

If he said no, I would drop it.

I thought this was called being thrifty with household expenses.

I thought he was saving money for our future.

Until today.

At the bank counter, those words hit me like a punch.

Over 700 dollars.

I clutched the milkshake he had handed me, and a wave of nausea hit me out of nowhere.

It wasn't the milkshake that turned my stomach.

It was me.

I was sick of myself.

Eight years, and I had no clue how much money was actually mine.

"To reset the password, we need your ID and the card," the teller said.

She handed me a form.

I signed it.

Myron stood off to the side, his expression growing uglier by the second.

"Alison, do you really have to go through with this?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied.

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but I didn't bother with him.

Five minutes later, my new password was set.

I slid my card into the machine and entered the password.

It read: [Balance: 721 dollars.]

I took a deep breath.