My husband, Alden, had taken my name off our joint bank account. Then he held his paycheck up in front of me and laughed. \u201cWhoever brings this home calls the shots,\u201d he said. I smiled at him. \u201cOkay, honey. I\u2019ll have something special waiting.\u201d<\/p>\n
My name is Joanne Kittle. I carried the mail on a rural route out of Yellville, Arkansas, for thirty-one years. Even now, I read every piece of mail twice. It\u2019s a habit that has saved me from missing more than one important line.<\/p>\n
My pension didn\u2019t show up on the third of the month. I noticed before the coffee finished, and drove to the bank with my checkbook in my lap. My reading glasses swung on their beaded chain while I drove.<\/p>\n
The teller had been a little girl on my route. She leaned toward me and lowered her voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cMiss Joanne, Alden closed that joint checking on Tuesday.\u201d<\/p>\n
I gripped the checkbook. \u201cAnd my pension?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMa\u2019am, I can\u2019t see where it goes now. I\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
In the parking lot I checked on my phone. My pension was going into an account number I\u2019d never seen. Alden had set up my pension login years earlier, and I\u2019d never changed the password. That part\u2019s on me, I guess.<\/p>\n
Alden was home between truck runs. He drove long-haul, two weeks out and three days home, and had done that for thirty years. I set the bank slip beside his plate. He didn\u2019t look at it.<\/p>\n
That little trucking outfit in Harrison still cut paper checks, and Alden liked holding his. He pulled his paycheck out of his shirt pocket and waved it at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhoever brings this home calls the shots, Joanne.\u201d<\/p>\n
He laughed like he\u2019d just told the funniest joke in town.<\/p>\n
\u201cTake my picture. My sisters\u2019ll get a kick out of it.\u201d<\/p>\n
So I took his picture. He grinned at my phone like he\u2019d won the lottery. I looked at that paycheck, then at him. Forty-five years of marriage, and I\u2019d never seen him so pleased with himself.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay, honey. I\u2019ll have something special waiting when you get back.\u201d<\/p>\n
He went to bed thinking he\u2019d won. I went to bed knowing I had let too much go on for too long.<\/p>\n
My daddy died the spring before our wedding, in 1981. He left me the farmhouse and the forty acres around it. Just me. I was twenty-three and grieving, and Alden was good at handling money. I let him take the lead.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll take care of it\u201d turned into \u201cask me first.\u201d<\/p>\n
When the water heater quit last winter, he said money was tight. I heated bathwater on the stove for six weeks. That same month, he bought himself a $12,800 zero-turn mower. He rides it around the front pasture like he\u2019s on parade, and calls this place \u201cmy place\u201d whenever he talks to the men at the feed store.<\/p>\n
Across the road live the Yoders. Miriam and her husband milk a hundred and twenty goats. For three years, Miriam had asked to rent my front pasture.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy boys can string goat fence along your daddy\u2019s old posts in one afternoon. My girls are starving for grass.\u201d<\/p>\n
Every time, Alden answered for me.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot my pasture.\u201d<\/p>\n
The next morning, his rig pulled out at five. I was at the county courthouse on the square when the doors opened. Vonda, the clerk, had been on my route since she was in pigtails. I asked her for a certified copy of my deed.<\/p>\n
She read it, then looked over her glasses. \u201cJust your name, Joanne. Since 1981.\u201d<\/p>\n
I held the edge of the counter. Vonda knew me well enough to hear what I hadn\u2019t said yet.<\/p>\n
\u201cHoney, whatever you\u2019re fixing to do, that man won\u2019t ever speak to you again.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNeither will his sisters,\u201d she added.<\/p>\n
I sat in my truck in the courthouse lot and cried until the windows fogged up. I\u2019d spent forty-five years asking permission to buy a water heater. Maybe I should just let the pasture go, too. Maybe that was what a good wife did.<\/p>\n
Then I blew my nose and called the pension office. I said somebody had moved my deposit without my say-so, and they flagged it as fraud. By lunch, my pension was going to a new account with only my name on it.<\/p>\n
I drove home and knocked on Miriam\u2019s door. I\u2019d put off answering her for three years. I was embarrassed to admit that.<\/p>\n
\u201cAbout that pasture,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
Miriam wiped her hands on her apron and pulled out a chair. We sat at her kitchen table and talked until dark. When we settled the terms, she laughed so hard she had to wipe her eyes.<\/p>\n
Alden called from Amarillo.<\/p>\n
\u201cWash my good jeans. I got a lodge meeting when I get home.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
He called again from Flagstaff.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd iron my blue shirt. The good one.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll have everything ready,\u201d I said. And I meant it.<\/p>\n
He called once more from Albuquerque, on his way home.<\/p>\n
\u201cFix chicken and dumplings Friday. And tell them Yoders to quit staring at my pasture.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhatever you say, honey. You bring home the paycheck.\u201d<\/p>\n
He laughed. \u201cNow you\u2019re learning.\u201d<\/p>\n
Two weeks after he left, his rig came growling up our gravel road after dark. The gate to the front pasture stood wide open. Across the road, Miriam was already sitting on her porch with a glass of tea. I heard her laughing before Alden even shut off his engine.<\/p>\n
He came in the kitchen door carrying a duffel bag of dirty laundry.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s for supper?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSupper\u2019s whatever you brought home, honey,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
He frowned. \u201cWhat\u2019s that supposed to mean?\u201d<\/p>\n
I took one sheet of paper off the fridge and handed it to him. He held it under the kitchen light and read the first line aloud.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis lease is made between Joanne Kittle, sole owner of\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
The name after \u201cbetween\u201d was Miriam Yoder and her husband. The paper was a lease for my front pasture.<\/p>\n
Alden lowered it and stared at me. Then he looked through the window toward the open gate.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou leased my pasture?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour pasture?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cJoanne, don\u2019t start. I told you not to let them in there.\u201d<\/p>\n
Miriam was still on her porch. I could see her through the window, tea glass in hand. She\u2019d heard him hollering, and she didn\u2019t look like she was going anywhere.<\/p>\n
I set the certified deed beside the lease. It had my name on it, and the date my daddy left the property to me. Alden picked it up, read it, and put it down again.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat doesn\u2019t mean you get to make decisions without talking to me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI did talk to you. Miriam asked for the pasture. You answered for me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI was trying to keep things in order.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBy closing our account?\u201d<\/p>\n
His face tightened. \u201cI moved the pension deposit. I didn\u2019t take it out of the family.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou moved it to an account I didn\u2019t know about.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI set it up. I know what\u2019s there.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was the part that made my hands shake. He talked about my pension as if knowing the password made it his. I was angry, and I was ashamed that I\u2019d let him get used to speaking that way.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou shut down the joint account, and the pension went somewhere I couldn\u2019t see,\u201d I said. \u201cThen you waved your paycheck at me and told me who calls the shots.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI bring in the money.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI have a pension.\u201d<\/p>\n
He gave a short, disbelieving laugh. \u201cYou think that little check is the same as what I earn?\u201d<\/p>\n
The words landed harder than they should have. He knew what I\u2019d worked for. He\u2019d watched me carry the mail in rain and heat, and he knew exactly how many years I\u2019d done it.<\/p>\n
I took my phone out and opened the account information I\u2019d checked in the bank parking lot. I showed him the account number I hadn\u2019t recognized, then the confirmation that my deposit was now going somewhere only I could access.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat was mine to change,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s why I called the pension office. I told them I hadn\u2019t agreed to the change.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked down at the phone, then back at me. \u201cYou told them I stole from you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI told them somebody moved my pension without my say-so.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI was keeping it safe.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFrom whom?\u201d<\/p>\n
He opened his mouth, but the answer didn\u2019t come. Then he looked toward the pasture again.<\/p>\n
The water heater came back to me. Six weeks of carrying hot water from the stove. I\u2019d been afraid to ask him twice because he\u2019d already said money was tight. The mower was still sitting out there, and it had never once been about keeping the household running.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou bought that mower while I was heating bathwater on the stove,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat was my money.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why did you tell me the household couldn\u2019t afford a water heater?\u201d<\/p>\n
He rubbed his thumb along the edge of the deed. \u201cYou don\u2019t understand what it costs to keep this place up.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI understand what it costs to keep a house running. I kept this one running.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked at me with the same small smirk he\u2019d worn when he held up his paycheck. \u201cYou don\u2019t know what you\u2019d do without me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt my jaw tighten. That was the cruelest thing he could have chosen to say, because for years I\u2019d been afraid it might be true.<\/p>\n
Miriam came across the road and knocked. I opened the door. She glanced from the lease to Alden and stopped just inside the kitchen.<\/p>\n
\u201cI can come back,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I told her. \u201cYou don\u2019t need to.\u201d<\/p>\n
Alden made a sound through his nose. \u201cThis is between my wife and me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Miriam looked at the paper in his hand. \u201cYou told me it wasn\u2019t your pasture.\u201d<\/p>\n
He turned toward her. \u201cI never said that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou said, \u2018Not my pasture,\u2019\u201d I said. \u201cThose were your words.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI meant not for them to use.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not what you said.\u201d<\/p>\n
Miriam stepped closer to the table, but didn\u2019t reach for the lease. She\u2019d asked me for that pasture three years running and had stopped asking after Alden shut her down each time. She wasn\u2019t going to let him put the whole thing on her now.<\/p>\n
\u201cI asked Joanne,\u201d she said. \u201cShe said yes. We signed what we agreed to.\u201d<\/p>\n
He faced me again. \u201cYou signed a lease without asking me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI signed it as the owner.\u201d<\/p>\n
His jaw worked. For a second, he looked like he might laugh again, the way he had with the paycheck. He didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n
I could have let the argument turn into a shouting match. I was close to it. But the deed and lease were on the table, and the important part was already written down. So I asked him the question I\u2019d been avoiding since I saw that account number.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy did you move my pension?\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked at Miriam, then at the floor. \u201cI didn\u2019t want you spending it.\u201d<\/p>\n
The kitchen got very quiet. I could hear the refrigerator hum.<\/p>\n
\u201cOn what?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cThings we didn\u2019t need.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA water heater?\u201d<\/p>\n
He shook his head. \u201cThat\u2019s not the point.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt sure seems like the point.\u201d<\/p>\n
He picked up the lease again and folded it once in the middle, as if creasing the paper would change what it said. Miriam\u2019s mouth tightened. I reached over and took it back from him.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t fold that.\u201d<\/p>\n
He let go. \u201cI was trying to keep the money together. You always act like I\u2019m against you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou told me to ask before I bought a water heater. Then you bought a mower. You closed the account and put my pension somewhere I couldn\u2019t see. What part of that was supposed to make me feel looked after?\u201d<\/p>\n
He rubbed at his forehead. \u201cThe mower was something I wanted.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was the first honest thing he\u2019d said that night. He looked annoyed with himself for saying it.<\/p>\n
I set the lease flat again. \u201cAnd the pension?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI figured you wouldn\u2019t notice until the next deposit.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at him. I had spent years telling myself he was simply better with the bills, that he liked things done his way, that it was easier not to make a fuss. Hearing it from him made my stomach turn. He\u2019d counted on my not noticing.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou thought I wouldn\u2019t notice my own pension.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought we could talk about it when you got the statement.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou could have talked to me before you moved it.\u201d<\/p>\n
He pushed his chair back. \u201cYou make everything sound like I\u2019m some kind of thief.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI told the pension office what happened. They flagged it. I didn\u2019t call you a thief.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked at the phone on the table. His eyes went to the account screen again, and he understood that I wasn\u2019t going to hand over the new password or let him decide where my deposit went.<\/p>\n
\u201cI take care of the bills,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou used to. That doesn\u2019t give you the right to hide my money from me.\u201d<\/p>\n
He glanced at the paycheck still in his shirt pocket. I had taken his picture when he asked. He\u2019d wanted his sisters to see him waving it around. I looked at him and felt a little sick thinking about how pleased he\u2019d been.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou wanted me to take your picture,\u201d I said. \u201cYou wanted your sisters to see that paycheck.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s that got to do with this?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou told me the person who brings home the money calls the shots. I took the picture. Now they can see what you said when I asked where my pension went.\u201d<\/p>\n
He pulled out his phone. \u201cFine. I\u2019ll tell them myself.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s up to you.\u201d<\/p>\n
He stepped into the hall to call. His voice carried back into the kitchen, though I couldn\u2019t make out every word. He told them I\u2019d leased the pasture to the Yoders. Then he said I\u2019d called the pension office and made trouble over an account he\u2019d arranged.<\/p>\n
After a pause, he said, \u201cIt was still family money.\u201d<\/p>\n
Another pause.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe doesn\u2019t need to know every little thing I do.\u201d<\/p>\n
Miriam looked at me. I didn\u2019t have to ask what she\u2019d heard.<\/p>\n
Alden came back into the kitchen with the phone in his hand. His face was red now, and the smirk was gone.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey don\u2019t need to be involved,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou called them.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI wanted them to know what you did.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did you tell them about the account?\u201d<\/p>\n
He put the phone down. \u201cI told them I was handling it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you tell them you moved my pension without asking me?\u201d<\/p>\n
He picked up the paycheck and stuffed it back into his pocket. \u201cThey don\u2019t need every detail.\u201d<\/p>\n
Miriam stood by the table, her apron still damp where she\u2019d wiped her hands. I was glad she was there. I had spent too many years being the only person in a room who knew what Alden had said.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s what you do,\u201d I said. \u201cYou tell people what you want them to know, and then you expect me to go along with it.\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes moved to the front window. \u201cYou think the pasture is going to fix anything?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. It\u2019s just my pasture.\u201d<\/p>\n
I heard my own voice getting sharper. I wish I\u2019d said that part more gently, but I wasn\u2019t going to apologize for saying it.<\/p>\n
Alden tapped the lease with one finger. \u201cI can tell them they can\u2019t use it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can tell them whatever you want. I signed it with them.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re going to let goats in there?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey need grass. I need the pasture put to use.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat land\u2019s been in our family for years.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt came from my daddy to me.\u201d<\/p>\n
He glanced at the deed. The name on it had been there since 1981. The paper didn\u2019t care how long he\u2019d called the place his.<\/p>\n
Then he looked at me. \u201cSo what, you want me to leave?\u201d<\/p>\n
I stood with both hands on the table. I was tired of pretending that a different answer would make him hear me.<\/p>\n
\u201cI want you to stop treating my pension like yours. I want my name on the account that holds my money. And I want you to stop telling other people this is your place.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou want me to just sit here and take orders?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI want you to talk to me like your wife, not like somebody who has to ask you first.\u201d<\/p>\n
He stared at the lease again. \u201cI won\u2019t speak to you if you go through with this.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was the cost Vonda had warned me about. I could lose the comfort of having Alden beside me when he came home. His sisters might decide I was the one who\u2019d broken the family. Maybe they already did. I was nervous to say this out loud, even to Miriam: I didn\u2019t want to be alone. But I was more afraid of spending the rest of my life asking permission to use what was mine.<\/p>\n
I slid the lease back toward Miriam. \u201cWe\u2019re going ahead.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded. \u201cWe\u2019ll honor what we agreed to.\u201d<\/p>\n
Alden looked at both of us, then at the front door. \u201cI\u2019m not staying here tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not going to stop you.\u201d<\/p>\n
He went to the hall and picked up his duffel. He didn\u2019t touch the chicken and dumplings I\u2019d put on the stove. At the door, he stopped as if he expected me to call after him.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t. I had asked him to leave, and he was leaving.<\/p>\n
He carried the bag out to his rig. The engine started, then the truck backed away from the house and headed down the gravel road. Miriam stayed at the table with me. Neither of us said anything until the lights disappeared.<\/p>\n
The next morning, I put the deed and my pension papers in a folder. The lease stayed on the fridge. I didn\u2019t call Alden to ask when he was coming back, and I didn\u2019t put his paycheck in the account he\u2019d chosen. He could decide what he wanted to do about our marriage. I had decided what I was doing with my land and my money.<\/p>\n
Miriam\u2019s family brought the fence materials over, and the boys set posts along the old line. Alden didn\u2019t come back to tell them to stop. His sisters didn\u2019t call me. I didn\u2019t chase them down to explain myself.<\/p>\n
The first goats stepped through the open gate into my front pasture. I stood by the fence while Miriam watched them spread out over the grass. Then I went home and put my reading glasses on their beaded chain beside the phone.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
My husband, Alden, had taken my name off our joint bank account. Then he held his paycheck up in front of me and laughed. \u201cWhoever brings this home calls the … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":37278,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,4,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-59335","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family","category-inspiration","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/59335","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=59335"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/59335\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":59337,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/59335\/revisions\/59337"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/37278"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=59335"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=59335"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=59335"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}