“I’m your wife,” I said. “I got hit by a car. And you want me to pay you to stay?”

He shrugged.
“Think of it as paying for a caregiver. We’d pay a stranger, right? At least with me you know who’s here. I won’t resent it if I’m getting something in return.”

“Do you resent me now?” I asked.

He didn’t respond.

I wanted to scream. To throw something. To tell him to leave. But I couldn’t even get out of bed alone.

I couldn’t transfer to my chair without help.

My mother lived in another state. My father was gone. My sister worked nights and helped when she could, but she couldn’t move in yet. I was terrified. So I swallowed my pride.

“Fine,” I said. “A thousand a week.”

He nodded like we’d finalized a business deal.

“Transfer it every Friday,” he said. “That way it’s simple.”

Simple.