He Set The Test, I Set The Divorce

Eleven months into my husband's unemployment, I was working a side gig at a hotel when I happened to walk into his promotion party. The big screen in the ballroom read: Congratulations to Neil Rhodes on his promotion to Regional Vice President. One of his friends raised his glass and asked with a smile, "You've been faking unemployment for almost a year, and your wife still hasn't left. Doesn't that prove she's not a gold digger?" Bianca Frazier, his childhood friend, swirled the wine in her glass and said slowly, "Don't be so sure. Real gold diggers are great at putting on a show. At first, they'll spend a little of their own money and act devoted, just waiting for the man to hit it big. You have to hit her where it hurts before you find out who she really is." Neil smiled and didn't argue. A year ago, he had come home with a layoff notice. To pay the mortgage and support the family, I worked days and took side jobs at night. I got by on 6 hours of sleep a night. My younger brother, Bryce Fleming, was at the party too. "Don't worry, Neil, she hasn't suspected a thing. Yesterday she even asked Mom to tell you not to rush into a new job." Satisfied, Neil sent Bryce $100,000. Then he looked at Bianca. "You tell me. What should we do next?" I turned and walked out of the ballroom, then called my supervisor. "I'll take that transfer." ***** Neil: I have an interview the day after tomorrow. Send me $1,000 for a new suit. I had barely stepped out of the hotel when my phone buzzed. It was Neil. I thought back to the custom dark gray suit he'd been wearing at the party. It had cost at least $100,000. And now he was asking me for $1,000 for a suit? I looked down at my hand. My nails had dug into my palm hard enough to break the skin. What I'd thought was mutual support had been a test aimed only at me. My stomach cramped again, and I gasped from the pain. There was a pharmacy right next to the hotel. The cheapest stomach medicine was $12 a box. But for the past year, every time my stomach hurt, I'd just walked right past. I always told myself to tough it out. Twelve dollars could buy a day's worth of lunches or cover one of Neil's interview prep costs. But this time, I pushed open the pharmacy door, bought the stomach medicine, and grabbed a bottle of vitamins, too. The total came to $45. Spending money on myself wasn't as terrible as I'd thought. When I reached the bus stop, Mom called. "How's that job you were supposed to find for Bryce going?" "No updates yet." Her tone turned icy. "Have you even tried? That's your own little brother! If he does well, it reflects well on you, too." I stared at the rain dripping off the ribs of my umbrella. An hour ago, Bryce had been sitting at Neil's promotion party. He knew I worked a full-time job during the day and took side jobs at night. He knew I had sold Grandma's gold bracelet to raise $80,000 so Neil could pay a connection who had promised to get him hired. And he hadn't breathed a word of it to me. "Helena? Are you even listening to me?" I snapped out of it. "He can find his own job." I hung up. The phone rang two more times, and I turned it off. Neil didn't get home until 11:30 that night. He walked into the kitchen, glanced at the bare dining table, and frowned. "Where's my dinner?" "It was cold, so I threw it out." He stopped short. In the past, no matter how late he came home, I always reheated his meal. One night, when I was at my busiest, I fell asleep watching the pot, and oil splashed onto the back of my hand and blistered it. I still showed up to work as usual the next day. Neil stared at me. "I texted you. Why didn't you reply?" I put the stomach medicine in my bag. "Didn't see it." "You had your phone in your hand the whole time, and you're telling me you didn't see it?" He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "I just want $1,000 for a suit for my interview. Didn't you say couples should get through hard times together? Now you won't even spare me $1,000? Helena Fleming, are you looking down on me too, because I'm broke?" He put a bitter weight on the word too, sounding wounded. Back when he looked at me like this, I always scrambled to explain myself. This time, I pulled open the drawer, set my bank card on the table, and said, "The PIN is your birthday. There's $1,200 in there. Is that enough for you?" That was the money I'd set aside for a professional training course. It had taken me more than a month to save. Neil didn't take the card right away. He studied my face as if waiting for me to cry, complain, or tell him how hard it had been to save that $1,200. I said nothing at all. "What's gotten into you lately?" he asked. "Nothing," I answered flatly. "Then why are you being so quiet?" I zipped up my backpack. "Probably just tired." He opened his mouth to press further, but his phone rang. He picked up and headed out to the balcony. I was by the table looking something up on his tablet when I noticed his shopping app was still logged in. An order was right there, a women's diamond watch priced at $80,300. The recipient was Bianca, and the payment date was the day before the anniversary of my grandmother's death. I'd had to work late that day, afraid the flower shop would close before I could get there, so I'd asked Neil to pick up a bouquet of white lilies for Grandma's grave. I never got those flowers. When I asked, all he said was "Forgot." He hadn't forgotten at all. He'd just been too busy picking out a gift for another woman. On the balcony, Neil was murmuring in a low voice, as if reporting back to Bianca. "She didn't throw a fit." I sat on the couch, not moving, until the tablet screen went dark. Then I took down Grandma's photo and put it in my suitcase. I opened my laptop, found the email about the relocation to the Glenhaven project, and clicked confirm.