“Absolutely. Somebody explain why three adults discussed what percentage of my paycheck I should be allowed to access before I came home.”
Brooke finally spoke.
“You’re framing it badly.”
“I’m describing it.”
“Lauren wants more structure.”
“We have structure.”
“Not really.”
I turned toward her.
“You know a surprising amount about my banking arrangement.”
Lauren’s chair shifted.
“Eric.”
“What?”
“You’re being rude.”
“I walked into my house and discovered a committee had reorganized my salary.”
“We’re supporting Lauren,” Melissa said.
“Support her.”
I pointed gently toward the living room.
“Emotionally. Spiritually. From over there. Just stay several feet away from my direct deposit.”
Melissa sat back.
Lauren slapped her palm lightly against the table.
“This is exactly why I wanted them here.”
I looked at her.
The sentence told me more than she intended.
“Why?”
“Because every time I try to talk to you about money, you make me feel stupid.”
That was not a joke anymore.
My tone changed.
“When have I called you stupid?”
“You don’t have to say the word.”
“Then tell me what I do.”
“You question everything.”
“When you ask to control my paycheck, yes.”
“You see?”
“No, Lauren. I don’t.”
I finally sat.
“You keep presenting this as a discussion about financial planning. It isn’t. You’re asking for control.”
“I’m asking for responsibility.”
“We already share responsibility.”
“That arrangement isn’t working for me anymore.”
“Then explain why.”
She hesitated.
Barely a second.
But I saw it.