I Erased Our Fifty Fifty Baby

Summary

Elliott and I split everything down to the cent for six years.

He called it mutual respect. He called it true equality.

"When the math is clean, nobody owes anyone anything," he’d say, sliding a coaster under his drink.

Back then, I believed him.

So we split the rent, we split the electric bills, and when the faint pink line appeared on the test stick in our bathroom, I paid for the two-pack myself.

At twelve weeks, my first comprehensive prenatal panel came out to two hundred and eighty dollars. I asked him if he could front the bill until my next paycheck.