OCR Text |
Show CHRYSALIS PAGE 190 "There's a couple of cokes in the refrigerator." "I don't want coke. What else is there?" "Milk." I am getting tired of this. "All right." He pours himself a glass of milk. "This milk is sour," he says, pouring it down the sink. "Why do you continue to shop at that grubby little store when I told you all they sell is old stuff the other stores can't sell. By the way," he says, "I went over your figures in the checkbook today. They're wrong." "That's possible." My spinal column has fused. Ice creeps up toward my jaw. "I'm no bookkeeper," I say with clenched teeth. "You're twenty-seven dollars off." "I'm doing the best I can." "You've got to take some of the responsibility around here. I can't do everything! Maybe you ought to forget about writing that absurd book and concentrate on money management instead." "Money management? There's none to manage! Maybe if you'd forget about those ridiculous hand-axes and bones and graves, and concentrate on making more money I'd have more practice!" "All I know is, you're overdrawn, and I don't get paid for another week. I don't know how we'll pay a plumber." |