I Finally Took My Ex-Husband’s “Three-Thousand-Dollar” Card to the Bank—Then the Manager Brought Out an Envelope with My Name
“I wrote three hundred as a starting point.”
“Medical?”
“I’m getting the exact figures.”
I wrote the two-dollar bus fare on the page.
It was small, but I had counted it too many times to pretend it didn’t belong in the plan.
David listened while I added the amounts.
He didn’t interrupt with an offer until I had finished.
“Let me think about what I can do.”