My husband said he was going to work the whole weekend. His boss called me asking why he was absent. I took his credit card…
The phone rang Saturday afternoon while I was picking up the Legos from the mess my kids insisted on calling the “living room.”
– Hello?
— Ms. Oliveira? This is Ricardo Albuquerque, Marcos’ boss.
— Oh, hi Ricardo, did something happen?
— Sorry to bother you, but I need to speak with Marcos. He didn’t come yesterday or today and he’s not answering his cell phone. Is he sick?
I stood there, paralyzed, with a Lego piece in my hand.
Wait… what do you mean he didn’t go? He left home on Friday morning saying he was going to work the WHOLE weekend.
Awkward silence.
— Ma’am… there are no urgent projects. In fact, everyone left early on Friday.
I switched off. I took a deep breath. And then I started laughing. I laughed like a villain from a prime-time soap opera.
“Children!” I shouted. “Gabriel! Sofia! Come here now!”
My children ran down the stairs.
“What is it, Mom?” asked seven-year-old Gabriel.
— It turns out your father is a liar, and we’re going shopping. Aggressive shopping.
— Seriously? — Nine-year-old Sofia could already smell the freedom. — Can we go to Ri Happy?
— Today we’re going EVERYWHERE, my love.
I went upstairs to my room and grabbed my credit card. The black one. The one Marcos kept “for emergencies.” Well, this WAS an emergency. An emergency concerning my dignity.
I sent a message: “Ricardo called. Very convenient, this ‘urgent project’ of yours.”
Three dots. They disappeared. Three dots again.
Me: “No need to answer. The kids and I went out. Also because of an ’emergency’.”
“Mom, are you crying?” Gabriel asked from the car.
— No, my love. I’m just CALCULATING. Do you know how long it’s been since I bought clothes for myself? THREE YEARS. Do you know how much I’ve saved by being ‘responsible’? A LOT.
First stop: the toy store.
“Choose whatever you want,” I said, arms crossed.
“Anything?” Sofia could hardly believe it.
– Anything.
Gabriel grabbed the biggest Lego set he could see. Sofia chose a huge dollhouse, the kind I always said, “Maybe for Christmas, honey.”
— Excellent choice, daughter. I’ll take that basket of wines.
The cashier gave me a kind of strange look.
“Present?” he asked.
Yes. For myself. From the universe.
Second stop: the department store.
“Mom, why are you trying on so many dresses?” Gabriel asked, bored, sitting near the fitting room.
— Because for eight years I bought myself cheap clothes, my love. See this dress? It costs what your father spends on a “business lunch.” I’ll take it in three colors.
My cell phone wouldn’t stop vibrating. Eleven missed calls. Seventeen messages.
Me, while trying on a very expensive pair of heels: “You also work Saturday nights? What dedication.”
Marcos: “LOVE, PLEASE LET ME EXPLAIN”
Me: “Sure, explain. But later. Right now I’m busy SPENDING.”
Third stop: the beauty salon.
“I want everything,” I told the hairdresser. “Haircut, coloring, manicure, pedicure, moisturizing treatment, facial. Everything you can get.”
“Celebrating something?” she asked, smiling.
Yes. My newfound financial independence.
Sofia was fascinated, looking at me with paint in my hair.
Mom, you’re acting strange.
— I’m feeling EXPENSIVE, my love. Really expensive. And I’m loving it.
Fourth stop: Loungerie.
“Wait here with the bags,” I told the children, pointing to a bench outside.
“What are you going to buy there?” Gabriel asked.
Lingerie that your father will NEVER see. That’s what I’m going to buy.
When I left, Marcos called again. This time, I answered.
“Where are you all?” he shouted. “I got home and nobody’s here!”
— Oh, your “project” is already finished? That’s strange… I thought you were going to work until Sunday.
Please, I need to explain…
“You know what I need, Marcos? New shoes. Wait, the kids want to talk to you.” I passed the phone to Gabriel.
— Hi, Dad. Mom bought me the Death Star Lego set. She said you’ll pay for it.
I got my phone back.
Part 2
I grabbed the phone back before Marcos could use his repentant fatherly voice to soften what little remained of my heart.
“Now listen carefully,” I said, entering a shoe store as if I were entering a courtroom. “You have exactly one chance to tell me the truth. Where have you been since Friday morning?”
