I was always told there is no money.
This was my uncle’s bed — I always wanted a California King like my brother had. More room.
For years, a full size bed.
Now I am wondering about the money. Where did it all go?
I don’t know.
It was never something we discussed after buying the house. I just assumed that he was like my grandfather and knew what to do — head of household and all that.
So, today is appointment.
I’m not sure what has happened to me, here.
This kind of bed represents me and how I like to sleep.
Linens, books, bedside tables and so forth.
I’m looking around the house to see how I can reassemble myself.
Yesterday he took some books out.
This house needs paint. It always came last.
I always came last.
I have spent nothing for years. Nothing.
How did he do that? How did he train me to think of myself as worthless?
All I ever did was bring things to him.
Any houses I ever live in in the future are going to be plush and comfortable — like I like my beds to be.
I wish I was buying a new mattress. I will soon. The linens cost me next to nothing. I love linens. The bed has these elements — and I hung up two paper lanterns and I am about to hang some sheer curtains later this afternoon. One room at a time. One day at a time. Breathing. Not hungry. Going to try and eat a peach and a banana.
I am starting to realize how sad this is, how sad I have been in this marriage — all these years.
Whatever happens next will be happy again. Happy for the rest of my life.
It will be.