She stood, walked to the refrigerator, and opened the door. The bright shelves were packed with groceries from Saturday’s shopping trip. — You know what, Mike? You’re absolutely right.
Her voice was almost unnervingly calm. — We do have a budget. So if we’re going to be rational, let’s be fully rational.
Her husband looked up from his phone. Suspicion flickered in his eyes, like a stray dog realizing the hand reaching out might not be offering a hot dog. — Meaning what?
— Meaning this. Every month you transfer me a fixed amount for groceries. Five hundred dollars.
The rest is my paycheck. Sammy doesn’t eat much, and neither do I. The biggest line item in this house is your appetite.
— I’m a grown man, I work hard, I need meat! — Mike snapped immediately, sensing a threat to something he considered sacred. — I’m not arguing with that. Paula took a clear plastic container and deliberately moved the leftover cheese from an open package into it.
— So starting tomorrow, we’re doing this transparently. Your five hundred dollars is your personal food budget for the month. I’ll give you the second shelf.
That’s your territory. My money goes toward me and Sammy. We eat from our shelves.
Fair? Mike snorted and relaxed. The idea struck him as not only harmless, but maybe even advantageous.
In his mind, five hundred dollars was a huge amount, enough to fill half a warehouse store and live like a king. He had never paid attention to what laundry pods cost, or toilet paper, or a pound of decent butter, or those steaks he liked. — Fine by me, — he smirked…
