— Deal. And don’t come raiding my shelf for sausage when you run out.
— I won’t, — Paula promised. The corners of her mouth barely moved. The next day, an invisible but very real border appeared in the kitchen.
The second refrigerator shelf, proudly handed over to Mike, looked impressive at first. He personally took the money from the household budget and went to the supermarket. He stocked it with two big smoked sausages, a huge pork roast, a jar of pickles, premium frozen dumplings, and, for some reason, three cans of sardines.
Paula just watched in silence as he proudly arranged his haul. She carefully added up the receipts he casually tossed on the table. Two hundred ninety-three dollars.
More than half the monthly limit was gone in one trip. — Watch and learn how to manage money, — he said smugly, shutting the refrigerator door. Then came the hard reality of separate groceries.
For the first three days, Mike lived like a man who thought he’d cracked the system. He theatrically fried pork for himself in the evenings, sliced thick rounds of sausage, and ate it all while watching YouTube videos. On her side of the line, Paula made light soups, cooked oatmeal for Sammy, and baked chicken breast with vegetables.
Mike’s stomach ran into arithmetic on day five. His luxury spread disappeared faster than gas in a pickup. The sausage vanished into him, leaving behind nothing but the little string around the end.
On day eight, Mike opened the refrigerator and stared at his shelf for a long, thoughtful moment. In the quiet kitchen, you could almost hear the sadness rattling inside the sardine cans. Paula sat at the table grading third-grade English worksheets.
She tutored in the evenings for extra income. — Paula… — came his voice from the refrigerator. It had lost its swagger and picked up a pleading edge.
— Where’d the dumplings go? — You ate the last serving yesterday at eleven-thirty, — she said without looking up from the papers. — With the mayo, which is also gone, by the way.
The refrigerator door shut with a soft thud. Mike shifted awkwardly by the sink. — Listen, I miscalculated a little. Can I borrow a couple hot dogs from you and Sammy? My stomach’s tying itself in knots…
