Chapter 4
But the truth was that I wasn't the one who set up the payment.
After leaving the bank, I stood by the side of the street.
The sun shone on my face.
It finally hit me that Andrew had been deducting 1.3 thousand from my salary every month to pay off the mortgage for his ex-wife, Bonnie.
He started doing this from the second month after we got married, and it had been going on for five years.
Altogether, that was 78 thousand dollars.
I triple-checked the numbers because I could hardly believe it myself.
But the bank records never lied.
There were twenty-three pages, sixty payments.
It was all right there in black and white.
On my way home, I walked past a fruit stand.
Mangoes were three dollars a pound.
I bought two mangoes.
I never let myself buy them before.
But today, I suddenly thought it was pointless to save these three dollars.
It would just get sucked into Bonnie's mortgage anyway.
When I got home, Andrew wasn't back yet.
I sat at the table and sliced up a mango.
I ate half of it, leaving the other half on the plate.
Andrew walked in and spotted the mango on the table.
"Hey, mangoes! Not bad," he said, grabbing the other half.
"Yeah, it costs three dollars a pound," I told him.
"Kinda expensive," Andrew commented as he took a bite.
"Is there anything you actually think is cheap?" I retorted.
He looked up at me.
"What's wrong?" Andrew asked.
"Nothing," I replied.
He finished the mango and chucked the pit in the trash.
Then he headed to the sink to wash his hands.
I watched his back as he walked away.
His T-shirt collar was pilling.
But I finally realized that his way of saving and mine were worlds apart.
All the money I tried to save, he just handed over to someone else.
As for him, whether he saved or not, it didn't make any difference.
He was spending my money anyway.
After confirming the truth, I didn't confront Andrew right then and there.
It wasn't that I was keeping my cool.
It was just that there was still one thing I couldn't wrap my head around.
I wanted to find out if Emma knew about all this.
The deductions started in the second month after we got married, back at Emma's home, the night Andrew "borrowed" my phone.
If Emma didn't know, why did Andrew pick her house to make his move?
But if she did know, I wondered what she was really thinking all those years when she grabbed my hand, telling me Andrew would treat me right.
I waited all weekend.
On Saturday, Emma came over for dinner.
She came by twice a month. Every time she visited, I cooked, and she sat in the living room. Andrew would watch TV with her.
I whipped up four dishes and made a soup.
At the dinner table, Emma said, "Daniella, school's starting soon for Jimmy. Make sure to get him a backpack and some school supplies."
Jimmy was Andrew's son from his previous marriage. He was eight years old.
Before, whenever Emma brought up Jimmy, I never really minded. He was Andrew's son, after all.
Buying him a backpack and some school stuff was no big deal.
But today, those words hit me differently.
"How much does a backpack usually cost?" I asked.
"Not too much, maybe two hundred bucks. Just don't get anything too cheap. Kids want to look good in front of their friends," Emma replied.
I was barely making it on 800 dollars a month, and she expected me to cough up another two hundred for Andrew's kid from his ex-wife.
Andrew just sat there, drinking his soup, not saying a word.
I glanced at him.
He kept his head down.
"Alright, I'll check online," I said.
Emma smiled. "Daniella, you're so thoughtful."
After dinner, I headed to the kitchen to do the dishes.
Halfway through, I overheard Andrew and Emma talking in the living room.
Their voices were low, but with just a half-open door between the kitchen and the living room, I could still hear them talking.
Emma asked, "Did this month's payment get deducted?"
Andrew replied, "Yeah, it went through automatically on the fifteenth."
"Bonnie hasn't been asking about it, has she?" Emma asked.
"No, it's always automatic. She doesn't need to do anything," Andrew said.
"Alright, just make sure Daniella never finds out," Emma said.
Andrew replied, "Mom, she'll never find out. She never checks the bank statements."
Emma said, "That's good. The apartment is for Jimmy anyway. We're just doing it for him."
The faucet was still running.
Water ran over my fingers.
I gripped the bowl in my hands.
My fingers were clenched so tightly that the rim of the bowl pressed into my palm.
"Daniella, turn off the water. You're wasting it," Andrew called from the living room.
"Okay," I answered.
I turned off the faucet, put the bowl in the rack, and wiped my hands.
Then I wiped them again.
My hands were dry now.
But my heart was sinking, like something inside me was dropping into a bottomless pit.
"Just make sure Daniella never finds out," Emma said.
"She won't ever know. She never even looks at the bank statements," Andrew replied.
It had been five years.
He wasn't clueless about how wrong this was.
He knew.
They both knew.
That was why they kept it from me.
That was why they always made sure I never checked the bank statements.