Tight enough that I’d been quietly setting aside what little I could from grocery runs, knowing Mike’s spending habits weren’t exactly responsible.
He slid the last $20 bill we had across the table and said with a grin, “Here, make Thanksgiving dinner with this.”
I laughed. “Mike, $20? That won’t even cover a turkey.”
“Well,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “Mom always managed to make amazing dinners with no money.
Figure it out. Don’t embarrass me in front of my family.”
I couldn’t believe it.
For two years, I had poured my heart into this marriage, only to have him throw this at me.
As he walked away, smug and oblivious, something in me snapped. I wasn’t going to cry this time.
I wasn’t going to fight. I was going to plan.
Because if Mike thought I could “figure it out,” I’d show him just how clever I could be.
For the next few days, I played along, keeping my anger bottled up beneath a calm façade. Every time Mike asked if I’d “figured out” Thanksgiving, I smiled and assured him everything would be perfect.
He even had the nerve to brag to his brothers over the phone about how “resourceful” I was.
Meanwhile, I quietly started putting my plan into motion.
That $20 Mike so generously offered? It stayed exactly where he left it.Continue reading…