Do you work too?
I didn’t look at my husband. He was annoyed that I was spending money on supplies and wasting time painting again when I could be out getting a real job.
I deferred to my husband to handle the conversation during the meeting with our financial advisor at the bank. We sat in the masculine world of investments at the desk of a man in a suit. Our chairs were pulled up close. The sheets of paper were between the two men, just a little too far to my left to see clearly. I listened politely as my husband answered questions about our stocks, life insurance, and account balances.
My husband and the suit spoke the language of men: deep tones and full-size words. They were assuring each other of their intelligence with shared advice and guffaws. The men sized each other up during this and decided on a rhythm for their dialogue. I watched the predictable exchange not really hearing the words, smiling when faces briefly turned my way.