She Chose Her Rich Client Over Our Sick Son

The baby was eight months old the first time I asked my wife, Joyce James, for money.

A small fan on sale, fifty-nine ninety-nine.

A pack of manual razor blades, nine ninety-nine.

I looked at the balance in my account and explained in a low voice.

"The blades last a long time. It averages out to less than a dollar a month."

"It's hot lately. A cheap fan for the kitchen would do."

"Could you pay for it? Once the baby's older and I'm working again, I'll pay you back."

Joyce scrolled through her social media without looking up.