I just stood there, watching.
Nora's door opened.
Vincent explained why they were there, but Nora didn't invite them in.
"Sorry, I only made enough for me and my daughter."
Vincent's face stiffened. "That's fine. We'll come back tomorrow, then. We won't freeload—I can pay for groceries."
"Sorry, but cooking for two extra people is a hassle. And I don't need your grocery money."
Vincent clearly hadn't expected such a blunt rejection. He stood there, rooted to the spot, with nowhere to put his hands.
To salvage what was left of his pride, he raised his voice.
"Don't worry, Johnny! From now on, Dad's taking you out to eat every night. Whatever you want, we'll get it!"
I let out a quiet laugh and turned back inside.
On Vincent's salary, after the mortgage and car payments, there was barely anything left. Eating out every night? He wouldn't last three days.
Sure enough, that evening he came home with a sour expression and got straight to the point.
"Transfer me five hundred dollars."
"No."
His eyes went wide. "You make that much money every month—how can you not have five hundred bucks?"
"Oh, so you do know I make good money. Funny how that doesn't stop you from trashing me in front of our son."