My unemployed husband demanded that I pay for his mom’s trip to Hawaii—or I’d be the one leaving the house. My MIL just laughed and said, “You’ll have to pay.” So I threw the divorce papers at both of them and said, “Fine—let’s get a divorce.”
The evening Marcus informed me that I was expected to finance his mother’s vacation to Hawaii, he didn’t even bother to look up from the television. He remained slumped on the sofa in his sweatpants, a game controller gripped in his hands. There were no job-search tabs open on his laptop screen—only a paused video game and a half-empty energy drink.
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