“Then Jessica can help him read the instructions his doctor gave him,” I said.
Patricia hung up. A few minutes later a photograph arrived from an unknown account: Michael and Jessica at a restaurant, their hands linked over the table. The caption said, A real family starts with honesty.
I stared at the photograph, then closed the app. My pregnancy did not need to compete with their performance. I took my vitamins, ate half a sandwich, and wrote down the message’s time. Every small ordinary action felt like an act of resistance.
CHAPTER 5: THE HOUSE ACCOUNT
Camille asked me to assemble three years of bank statements. I had always managed the grocery budget, while Michael handled the mortgage and investments. He said it was easier that way because his salary was larger. Now I understood how little I knew about the money we supposedly shared.
The mortgage payment had risen sharply six months earlier. I called the lender and, as a joint borrower, requested copies of statements and documents I was entitled to receive. A customer service representative confirmed that a home-equity line had been opened the previous autumn. I remembered no such conversation and no signing appointment.
