But That's My Money

My childhood friend married a widowed mother. Her first husband died while working as a maintenance worker on the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge in New York City. My friend vowed to provide for and protect her and her daughter.

They later had three more daughters. The apartment was too small, so he started working nights and weekends, seven days a week, to save for a down payment on a house. This went on for two years.

He finally bought a small home built in 1957. It was modest but bigger than the apartment. He promised to add a second floor so all four daughters could have their own rooms.

He worked as a bouncer on the side and sometimes drove a limousine. Many nights he slept in my living room because he was too exhausted to drive home. I often packed food for him since I was single and cooked in large portions.

He hired an architect and took an apprentice job as a carpenter to make the expansion happen. By September, the second floor was finished after years of planning. Halloween came and went. Thanksgiving was in the new house. Then came Christmas.

With little money left, he still bought a Christmas tree, decorations, and presents for the whole family. Just before New Year’s, the boiler broke. He told the family they would have to brave the cold with blankets and space heaters until they could fix it.

One day, he picked up the mail and accidentally opened his wife’s bank statement, thinking it was a credit card bill. The balance was $180,000. Shocked, he showed her. She snatched it from his hands and shouted, “That’s my money!”

When he asked where it came from, she said it was from her late husband’s insurance policy. He asked when she got it. She said while she was pregnant with their first child.

He asked when she was going to tell him. She kept repeating, “That’s my money.”

He reminded her he had worked two and three jobs, seven days a week, for years to buy the house. She snapped, “You wanted to work those jobs.”

He asked if she would have let the kids freeze without a boiler. She replied, “That’s your job, and that’s my money.”

He made her sign over the money. He repaired the boiler, completed the second floor, bought a new car, and opened four investment accounts for his daughters’ futures.