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 am just asking.”

“I know.”

He went quiet.

He lived in Omaha, far enough away that concern usually reached me as a telephone call, followed by an offer he could make without seeing my expression.

“Let me think about what I can do,” he said.

“You can call your mother more often.”

“I can do that.”

“You do not have to send me money.”