Breaking the Bank Read Online Free PDF

of his existence. She knew he would give her money if he could, because he was and had always been a generous guy. But now that he had to answer to Gail, things were not so simple. And Mia couldn’t bear Gail’s knowing how hard up she was. Gail had already made it clear that she thought Mia was a loser; asking Stuart for money would only confirm that belief.
    Stu’s birthday was approaching, and Mia was trying to decide what to get him. Not that there was much he couldn’t get for himself— Mia had seen the bespoke suits, the Thomas Pink shirts, the T. Anthony accessories that filled his closets—but still, she wanted to find something that alluded to their special bond, something Gail would not have thought to buy. And now she even had some money with which to do it. The secret stash of bills from the ATM was burning a hole in her wedding shoes; she was in a position to spend, even splurge a little.
    One thing that Mia was absolutely sure she wanted to do, though, was take Eden for a real haircut. On Saturday afternoon they walkedover to Goldilocks, a local hair salon presided over by Simone, an obese woman with creamy skin, beautiful auburn hair, and an unapologetic attitude about her weight that Mia found immensely heartening. No muumuus or shifts for Simone. And no black, either. She wore her plus-sized jeans tight and studded with rhinestones, her tops clingy and vibrantly hued—red, turquoise, and violet.
    When they walked into the shop, Simone took a quick look at Eden and said, “Halloween come early this year?” Eden’s response was a joyful snort. Mia had not heard her child laugh like that in so long, she could have kissed Simone with gratitude. After settling Eden in a chair and shampooing her with something smelling of mango and mint, Simone deftly proceeded to crop the rest of Eden’s ruined hair into something both waiflike and adorable.
Peter Pan,
thought Mia.
Jean Seberg.
She paid and, owing to her little windfall from the bank, handed Simone a hefty tip. Eden was supremely happy with her new look; on the way back home, she took her mother’s hand and began swinging it as they walked.
    â€œThat was so fun.” Eden said.
    â€œUh-huh,” Mia replied, squelching the impulse to correct and say,
so
much
fun.
    â€œAlmost as much fun as going out with Daddy.” Eden unconsciously corrected her grammatical error.
    Mia was quiet; she knew better than to pounce on that bait.
See,
she addressed an imaginary audience,
I’m being good, I’m not a bash-the-ex-in-front-of-the-kid bitch.
    â€œYou have fun with Daddy.” It was a statement, neutral and safe.
    â€œLots of fun.”
    â€œWhat did you like best? Of all the places he’s taken you?”
    â€œBarneys,” answered Eden without a second’s hesitation. “Would you take me there sometime?”
    Mia squeezed her daughter’s hand but did not reply. Her heart wasslamming around too furiously in her chest for that. Barneys again. This was Lloyd’s fault, of course. Impractical, selfish, self-indulgent Lloyd, stoking appetites in Eden that there was no way Mia could appease.
    â€œWell, can we go?”
    â€œWe’ll see,” said Mia, offering the universal maternal equivocation. “We’ll just have to see.”
    W HEN THEY GOT home, Mia waited until Eden was otherwise occupied—cartoons again—before she attempted another visit to
the machine;
in her mind, she could see the italics. Whatever magic, black or otherwise, the thing possessed was not something she wanted her daughter to witness, even in the most passive of ways. What if there was some Faustian bargain at work here? Endless supplies of cash in exchange for Eden’s health or, God forbid, life? She knew it was crazy, but then a machine giving out money that was neither requested nor recorded was pretty crazy, too.
    In fact, the whole thing made her so skittish that she actually