My years at home became time I had not worked.
I said:
“You wanted me to stay home.”
“I’m not criticizing you.”
“You just did.”
“No.”
“I’m explaining reality.”
I folded my arms.
“What reality?”
He leaned against the counter.
“You’re pregnant.”
“You have two children.”
“You haven’t practiced architecture in years.”
“Your professional registration lapsed.”
“You don’t have current income.”
“Your health insurance is through me.”
“Most of your credit history is tied to our household.”
Then he gave a tiny shrug.
“So when you threaten to leave every time we disagree, I’m asking a reasonable question.”
I had never threatened to leave.
Not once.
But I let him continue.
“Where would you actually go?”
