Chapter 3 · Why Should I Pay For Your Affection

I let it go. I wasn't about to argue with her.

If I were family, Michael wouldn't have borrowed 27,000 dollars from me without bothering with an IOU.

And if I were truly family, after five years of paying the mortgage, my name on the deed wouldn't still be nothing but a promise tossed around at the dinner table.

I said to her, "Georgia, the mortgage payment is due next week. If you've got time to talk me into it, maybe you should remind Andrew to get the money ready."

I hung up and muted her calls.

Finally, the room was quiet.

I opened my banking app and requested the transaction history for the past five years, sending it straight to my email.

At first, I only wanted to stop paying the mortgage.

Now, I wanted to know how much on earth I had spent on the Carter family in the past five years.

On the third night, Andrew showed up at my new place.

I'd finished working overtime and was stepping out of the elevator with a bag of daily essentials when I saw him waiting by the door.

There was a thermos at his feet, and he was holding the two coats I'd left at home.

"Mom made some soup and asked me to bring it over," he said.

I punched in the code and unlocked the door.

"Give me the coats, but you can take the soup back," I said.

"She spent all afternoon making it," Andrew said.

"She's got high blood sugar. Cutting back on sugar would help her more than making soup for me ever could."

Andrew's face stiffened for a moment, but he still followed me inside.

The place was tiny. One could see everything at a glance. There was only a folding table and two chairs in the living room, and the sheets I'd washed were hanging out to dry on the balcony.

The fridge was an old model, humming softly as it ran.

He set the thermos down on the table and looked around.

"Are you getting used to living here?" Andrew asked.

"It's pretty convenient," I replied.

"Because it's close to work doesn't mean it's great for the long haul. Is it noisy? The place seems kind of run-down."

I put the toiletries away in the bathroom, not bothering to respond.

Whenever I traveled for work, he'd always check the hotel locks and windows for me. After we got married, he spent half a month each time picking out the best smart lock for our home. Twice.

All that care used to make me feel safe.

Now, he's fussing over my door locks while planning to take care of another woman and her kid for the long haul. I didn't know what to say to that.

Andrew opened the thermos and poured out a bowl of soup, setting it on the table.

"Have some soup first, then we can talk," he said.

"Alright, I'm listening," I replied.

"I've already talked to Mom. I'll handle the mortgage this month, so don't keep giving her the cold shoulder."

I looked up at him. "I'm not giving her the cold shoulder."

"You stopped paying the mortgage, moved out, and won't answer her calls. How is that not giving her the cold shoulder?" Andrew shot back.

"It's your mortgage and your family's house. Why should I need anyone's approval to stop paying?" I retorted.

"Do you have to talk to me like that?"

"How am I supposed to say it, then? Should I apologize first and promise to keep sending the money on time?"

Andrew pulled out a chair and sat down, exhaustion written all over his face.

He said, "Look, Sarah. I know you don't exactly have the warmest feelings toward Em. I was caught off guard when she reached out to me, too.

"She's had it rough these past few years. Her ex owes a ton of money, and he's always drinking. When they split, she walked away with nothing. Now she's back in town with her kid and nowhere to go."

"So what?" I asked.

"I got her an apartment near her kid's kindergarten. I already paid the rent for six months up front."

"How much did you pay for the rent?"

"Six thousand five hundred dollars."

"What about the kindergarten?"

"She's enrolling next week. Tuition and meals will run about 7,000 dollars."

I looked at him.

Last night, he said he'd help Emily for a few months. But barely a day later, he'd already shelled out almost 13,000 dollars for her.

And that was not counting what he'd have to spend on her living expenses down the line.

"How much is left on the card?" I asked.

"A little over 20,000 dollars," Andrew replied.

That card was for our everyday expenses. Each month, I kept 1,000 to 1,500 dollars for daily needs, and whatever was left, I saved up for emergencies or any unexpected family costs.

After Georgia's last hospital bill was settled, the card still had 22,000 dollars left.

At least 13,000 dollars of that was money I'd transferred myself.

"Not all the money on that card is from your salary," I pointed out.

"I know," Andrew replied, his voice a little uneasy. "I'll make sure to reimburse you for whatever you transferred."

"I'll organize the transfer records."

"Sarah, this isn't like you."

He finally let out what he'd been holding back. "You never used to count every penny with me.

"Em needs to get through this tough time, and I'll pay you back eventually. But now, you're suddenly so fixated on the money. It's like I barely know you anymore."

I retorted, "If her ex isn't paying child support, she can take him to court. If she can't find a job, she can start applying for jobs. If the rent's too much, she can find a cheaper place.

"You're covering six months of rent and kindergarten fees all at once. So what does she have to do for herself?"

"She just got divorced. She's struggling emotionally."

"So are you her therapist now?"

Andrew's eyes darkened in anger.

"I'm trying to help her the best I can," he said.

"Then do it with your own money," I shot back.

"You still think there's something going on between her and me, don't you?"

He leaned back in his chair, like he finally got what was on my mind.

He snarled, "Sarah, whatever was between Emily and me ended years ago. She's got a kid now. What do you think I could want from her?

"You're blowing this way out of proportion and stopping the mortgage payment. That's too much."

Chapter 3

I let it go. I wasn't about to argue with her.

If I were family, Michael wouldn't have borrowed 27,000 dollars from me without bothering with an IOU.

And if I were truly family, after five years of paying the mortgage, my name on the deed wouldn't still be nothing but a promise tossed around at the dinner table.

I said to her, "Georgia, the mortgage payment is due next week. If you've got time to talk me into it, maybe you should remind Andrew to get the money ready."

I hung up and muted her calls.

Finally, the room was quiet.

I opened my banking app and requested the transaction history for the past five years, sending it straight to my email.

At first, I only wanted to stop paying the mortgage.

Now, I wanted to know how much on earth I had spent on the Carter family in the past five years.

On the third night, Andrew showed up at my new place.

I'd finished working overtime and was stepping out of the elevator with a bag of daily essentials when I saw him waiting by the door.

There was a thermos at his feet, and he was holding the two coats I'd left at home.

"Mom made some soup and asked me to bring it over," he said.

I punched in the code and unlocked the door.

"Give me the coats, but you can take the soup back," I said.

"She spent all afternoon making it," Andrew said.

"She's got high blood sugar. Cutting back on sugar would help her more than making soup for me ever could."

Andrew's face stiffened for a moment, but he still followed me inside.

The place was tiny. One could see everything at a glance. There was only a folding table and two chairs in the living room, and the sheets I'd washed were hanging out to dry on the balcony.

The fridge was an old model, humming softly as it ran.

He set the thermos down on the table and looked around.

"Are you getting used to living here?" Andrew asked.

"It's pretty convenient," I replied.

"Because it's close to work doesn't mean it's great for the long haul. Is it noisy? The place seems kind of run-down."

I put the toiletries away in the bathroom, not bothering to respond.

Whenever I traveled for work, he'd always check the hotel locks and windows for me. After we got married, he spent half a month each time picking out the best smart lock for our home. Twice.

All that care used to make me feel safe.

Now, he's fussing over my door locks while planning to take care of another woman and her kid for the long haul. I didn't know what to say to that.

Andrew opened the thermos and poured out a bowl of soup, setting it on the table.

"Have some soup first, then we can talk," he said.

"Alright, I'm listening," I replied.

"I've already talked to Mom. I'll handle the mortgage this month, so don't keep giving her the cold shoulder."

I looked up at him. "I'm not giving her the cold shoulder."

"You stopped paying the mortgage, moved out, and won't answer her calls. How is that not giving her the cold shoulder?" Andrew shot back.

"It's your mortgage and your family's house. Why should I need anyone's approval to stop paying?" I retorted.

"Do you have to talk to me like that?"

"How am I supposed to say it, then? Should I apologize first and promise to keep sending the money on time?"

Andrew pulled out a chair and sat down, exhaustion written all over his face.

He said, "Look, Sarah. I know you don't exactly have the warmest feelings toward Em. I was caught off guard when she reached out to me, too.

"She's had it rough these past few years. Her ex owes a ton of money, and he's always drinking. When they split, she walked away with nothing. Now she's back in town with her kid and nowhere to go."

"So what?" I asked.

"I got her an apartment near her kid's kindergarten. I already paid the rent for six months up front."

"How much did you pay for the rent?"

"Six thousand five hundred dollars."

"What about the kindergarten?"

"She's enrolling next week. Tuition and meals will run about 7,000 dollars."

I looked at him.

Last night, he said he'd help Emily for a few months. But barely a day later, he'd already shelled out almost 13,000 dollars for her.

And that was not counting what he'd have to spend on her living expenses down the line.

"How much is left on the card?" I asked.

"A little over 20,000 dollars," Andrew replied.

That card was for our everyday expenses. Each month, I kept 1,000 to 1,500 dollars for daily needs, and whatever was left, I saved up for emergencies or any unexpected family costs.

After Georgia's last hospital bill was settled, the card still had 22,000 dollars left.

At least 13,000 dollars of that was money I'd transferred myself.

"Not all the money on that card is from your salary," I pointed out.

"I know," Andrew replied, his voice a little uneasy. "I'll make sure to reimburse you for whatever you transferred."

"I'll organize the transfer records."

"Sarah, this isn't like you."

He finally let out what he'd been holding back. "You never used to count every penny with me.

"Em needs to get through this tough time, and I'll pay you back eventually. But now, you're suddenly so fixated on the money. It's like I barely know you anymore."

I retorted, "If her ex isn't paying child support, she can take him to court. If she can't find a job, she can start applying for jobs. If the rent's too much, she can find a cheaper place.

"You're covering six months of rent and kindergarten fees all at once. So what does she have to do for herself?"

"She just got divorced. She's struggling emotionally."

"So are you her therapist now?"

Andrew's eyes darkened in anger.

"I'm trying to help her the best I can," he said.

"Then do it with your own money," I shot back.

"You still think there's something going on between her and me, don't you?"

He leaned back in his chair, like he finally got what was on my mind.

He snarled, "Sarah, whatever was between Emily and me ended years ago. She's got a kid now. What do you think I could want from her?

"You're blowing this way out of proportion and stopping the mortgage payment. That's too much."