“We’re making Chinese food for dinner. It’s been ages since I’ve cooked it.” She bought Asian ingredients. Very excited. When she went to pay, the cashier announced the total. Lucía took out a card, but the machine beeped. Insufficient funds. She froze. She tried another card, but the same thing happened. Her face flushed. Visibly embarrassed. She started rummaging through her purse, pulling out bills and coins with trembling hands until she managed to gather the exact amount. The people in line stared at her.
“Sorry, sorry!” she apologized repeatedly, grabbed the heavy shopping bags, and practically ran out of the supermarket. I helped her with one of the bags. It wasn’t until we got to the parking lot that she let out a long sigh. Her eyes were red. “It’s okay. I just forgot I had some automatic payments set up and I’m out of credit,” she said, forcing a smile. “Marcos usually takes care of these things. I only carry enough cash for the daily groceries.”
“Doesn’t he give you money?” I asked. Perhaps too directly. “Yes, of course he does. He takes care of all the household expenses,” Lucía replied hurriedly as she put things in the trunk. “It’s just that he knows I’m not good at managing money, so he keeps a closer eye on everything. That way I don’t overspend. He does it for the good of the family.” She got into the driver’s seat and started the car without another word.
The drive home was rather quiet. That evening, Lucía prepared a spectacular Chinese dinner. Although it was missing some seasonings, the flavor was delicious. The children, fascinated, ate more than usual. Seeing her children enjoying themselves, Lucía’s expression relaxed. “It’s been a long time since I cooked this.” “Is it good?” she asked me. “It’s incredible.” Lucía is still an excellent cook. She smiled, and in that smile there was a mixture of satisfaction and something more. Marcos, as he had said, didn’t come back for dinner.
After dinner, we tidied up and put the children to bed. Finally, we had a moment to ourselves. We snuggled up on the living room sofa, covered with the same blanket, just like when we were little girls. We talked about our classmates’ past, about trivial anecdotes, and laughed until we cried. Lucía went to the wine cellar and got a bottle of red wine and two glasses. “Let’s have a drink,” she said. “Normally, Marcos doesn’t let me touch his wine cellar, but since he’s not here today, we’ll have a little drink in secret to celebrate our reunion.”
She winked at me. She opened the bottle. After a couple of glasses, Lucía completely loosened up. The smile on her face faded, and her gaze became somewhat distant. “Sometimes I envy you,” Sofía said, swirling the glass and looking at the red liquid inside. “Envy me for being a spinster about to turn 40 with an uncertain future,” I joked. “Your freedom is in the glass,” she said softly. “You can go wherever you want, do whatever you want, without having to explain yourself to anyone, without worrying about whether you’ve done something wrong, without having to think about whether every penny you spend is going over budget.”
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