His wife would take his card and only give him 20 pesos… He called her stingy, until he opened the envelope she had hidden for 5 years.
PART 1
Every two weeks, as soon as his paycheck arrived, Martín would get home to Nezahualcóyotl with the same defeated look on his face.
He worked at a packaging factory in Iztapalapa, standing for 10 hours a day among hot machines, the smell of burnt plastic, and a supervisor who yelled as if everyone owed him their lives.
But what weighed most heavily on him wasn’t the job.
It was getting home and handing his bank card to his wife, Maribel.
That night, he threw his backpack next to the old couch and took out his wallet.
“Here,” he said, placing the card on the table. “But this time, give me at least 300 pesos.” Chuy’s birthday is coming up, and everyone’s going out for beers.
Maribel was sitting with a graph paper notebook, a calculator, and several folded receipts.
She didn’t even raise her voice.
“I can’t, Martín. The electricity, water, and rent bills all came due. I can give you 30 for your bus fare and 20 for phone credit.”
Martín let out a bitter laugh.
“50 pesos? Seriously? I work my back off all week, and you give me money like I’m a high school kid.”
She gripped the pen tightly between her fingers.
“That’s not it.”
“Of course it is. You decide everything. You keep my card. You pay. You split the money. And I’m left looking like a fool, unable to even buy myself a decent pair of sneakers.”
Maribel lowered her gaze.
They had been married for 10 years and had lived for 5 in that damp, rented little house with a tin roof in the back and a wall that peeled every time it rained.
Martín hated that house.
He also hated that his coworkers at the factory made fun of him.
“Broke again, pal?”
“Your wife really keeps you on a tight leash.”
“Even my mom didn’t control me like that.”
He laughed so he wouldn’t look bitter, but inside he was seething with anger.
Maribel never bought anything for herself.
She didn’t go to the salon.
She didn’t wear new clothes.
She didn’t order food.
If Martín wanted tacos, she made beans and eggs.
If he wanted to go to the movies, she said they’d rather watch a movie on TV.
If he asked for money for a barbecue, she answered:
“That’ll pay half the gas bill.”
Over time, Martín began to suspect something was amiss.
