I’m the one who makes more money in our household. My spouse Tom has been encouraging me to take on a second job, which wasn’t a problem before.

“You don’t even leave the house to work, so you cannot possibly be as tired as I am at the end of the day,” replied Tom.

“But you’re a mechanic, Tom,” I shot back. “You manage your own company. And you take three days off work simply because you have workers.”

Dismissively, he said, “Let’s just put this conversation on hold.”

And we did put the subject on hold for a few of weeks. I couldn’t figure out why it was even a conversation, so I hoped he wouldn’t bring it up again.

My mother questioned me, “Are you struggling financially, Lisa?” over a mother-daughter pasta date, after I informed her about Tom’s idea.

“No, not at all,” I answered. “You see, we’re not fancy or challenging people, so it’s easy to maintain and control our life. It’s because Tom was adamantly advocating for this.”

As she sipped her drink, she questioned, “Do you think his business isn’t doing well?”

“That’s not possible,” I answered. “I’ve observed how many cars arrive and depart each week. Sufficient to generate a profit. And he has been hiring new employees on a regular basis. It’s also a positive thing.

My mother asked, “Then what is it?”

My response was, “I have no idea,” as I topped my spaghetti with extra grated Parmesan. “However, I am aware that I cannot work two jobs due to time constraints. Every now and again, I clean and cook while using my laptop. During my lunch breaks, I go grocery shopping and also take the dogs to the vet or other appointments. I simply don’t see it succeeding.”

My mother said, “You have to tell him, darling.” “You have to make it known that you cannot take on an added responsibility that’s going to leave your cup empty.”

Everything was good up until we made the decision to sell my automobile and get a new one.

Tom said to Lisa, “I told you, Lisa,” one evening over dinner. “You need to get that second job.”

With his knife scraping against the fork, he sliced into his steak.

“Why me?” Sickened, I questioned. “My work is tough, and I already put in a lot of overtime. I have to pay attention and stare at a screen all day. My eyes hurt and my brain is worn out by the end of the day. After that, I have to worry about everything else, including dinner and laundry.”

“Lisa, your job is easy,” he answered. “You’re attempting to exaggerate how bad things are. Remember that you work from home? This is not a place where you have to go. Furthermore, since you don’t constantly crawl under cars, you don’t become as exhausted as I do.

I was taken aback.

“Why don’t you work for someone else? On the days you have off, you can complete it.”

“So, Lisa,” he started hesitantly, sounding like he was talking to a small child, “I would miss going bowling with my friends!”

He stated it as though it were the most sensible explanation possible.

Really? To me, that was the most ridiculous explanation imaginable.

“All right,” I replied. “I’ll look around.”

It appeared as though Christmas had arrived early for my spouse.

“All right,” he remarked. “That settles it.”

He didn’t even try to throw the remaining food in the trash as I watched him take up his plate and set it on the kitchen counter.

I would get a second job if that’s what he desired. However, I was aware that he would detest my plans.

Tom stopped by my home office on his way to work the following day.

“Don’t forget to start looking for a job,” advised the man. “And Lisa, give my work overalls more of a go. Some grease stains are stubborn and won’t go away. It’s awkward.

After saying that, he left.

I whispered, “Goodbye to you, too,” as he turned to leave.

I then visited the website of the bowling alley. That was where Tom used to play with his pals. The little spot was dark and uninviting to me, so I’d always wondered why they went there.

Jill remarked, “Oh, come on, Lisa.” “We both know that Tom and Marcus go for the waitresses in the short dresses.”

Tom’s wife was Jill, and Marcus was his best buddy. Jill and I were once invited to the bowling alley for its anniversary, but we never returned after seeing the facility.

My strategy was straightforward: work the night hours at the bowling alley and make my husband so envious that he would reconsider his offer.

I asked him if he was going bowling on my first day at the bowling alley, a Wednesday, which was Tom and his buddies’ weekly bowling night.

“Are you spending tonight at the bowling alley? Before you leave, would you like to eat dinner at home?” I inquired in jest while preparing breakfast.

“Yes, most likely,” he replied without taking his eyes from his phone. “Make some fish and chips or something like that.”

“All right,” I grinned and said. “See you there!”

When our gazes finally locked, he waved off my perplexity with a flicker of confusion on his face.

I thought to myself, “Oh, you have no idea what you’re in for,” as he left.

That night, I showed up at the bowling alley wearing my new outfit—a form-fitting, short dress that left very little room for interpretation. My hubby would probably not approve of me wearing something like that.

“I apologize for the outfit,” manager Ursula stated. “I’ve tried to make changes and even add stockings or leggings to it, but the owner is adamant that it stay like this.”

I said, “That’s just a sick thought.”

I worked at the drink stand, periodically stooping to fry the tiny donuts that the teens who were bowling over loved.

I watched Tom come in by himself and go right to playing. The males became raucous after the first hour passed and the teens started leaving to report for their curfews. The males started hitting on me, like they often do.

My spouse finally noticed me, and he watched with his eyes getting darker.

“What the hell, Lisa?” With his eyes flaming, Tom charged over. “What are you doing?”

“I’m working, Tom,” I smirked and replied. “You wanted me to get a second job, remember?”

He shouted, “This isn’t what I meant!”

“Well, I’m getting great tips,” I shot back.

My husband’s teeth tightened.

“Stop. Right now,” he growled.

I said, “We need the money,” as I turned to attend to another table.

Tom returned to his bowling, determined not to make a bigger fuss. However, I was aware that he would return to the subject as soon as my shift ended.

He continued to look at me every few minutes.

I was working my shift when Ursula came up to me.

She nodded at Tom and said, “Is he bothering you too?”

“What do you mean?” Perplexed, I asked.

Ursula let out a heavy sigh.

This man has practically all of the waitresses in his grasp. One had his baby as recently as two weeks ago. I’ve heard she’s now pursuing him for unpaid child support. It seems that she tested for paternity to confirm it and everything.”

I didn’t need to lie or hide the truth because I knew Ursula didn’t know that I was married to Tom. I had no idea that there was an other Tom than the one she had just shown to me.

That’s the reason he wanted me to work two jobs. He insisted that I cover his child support payments.

I ignored the other customers as I strode over to Tom.

“You’re a disgusting human!” I hit him hard across the face as I shouted.

He clutched his cheek and cried, “What the hell, Lisa?”

“You have any connection to the waitresses here? One just gave birth to your child?” Tears were flowing down my face as I spat.

Tom got pale in the face.

“I am able to clarify,” he stumbled.

I said, “I don’t care.” “I’d prefer not to hear it. Tonight, you will pack your belongings and leave. I’m going to file for divorce tomorrow.”