When Lisa’s husband, Tom, starts pestering her about finding a second job, she grows suspicious of his motives. Eventually, fed up with his constant nagging, Lisa decides to get a job. But once she starts, Lisa uncovers a terrible truth about her husband.
In our home, I am the primary breadwinner. This had never been a problem, but recently, my husband Tom has been pressuring me to get a second job.
“You don’t even leave the house to work, so you can’t possibly be as tired as I am at the end of the day,” Tom said.
“But you’re a mechanic, Tom,” I countered. “You run your own business. And you take three days off just because you have employees to do the work.”
“Let’s just put a pin in this conversation,” he said dismissively.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll start looking.”
My husband looked as though he’d received an early Christmas present.
“Good,” he said. “That settles it.”
I watched as he picked up his plate and left it on the kitchen counter, not bothering to throw away the leftover food.
If he wanted me to find a second job, I would. But I knew exactly what would make him regret his suggestion.
The next day, as Tom left for work, he popped his head into my home office.
“Don’t forget to start job hunting,” he said. “And put more effort into my work overalls, Lisa. Some grease stains just won’t come out. It’s embarrassing.”
With that, he walked out.
“Goodbye to you, too,” I muttered as he left.
I then visited the bowling alley’s website. It was the place where Tom and his friends played. I had always wondered why they went there so often despite it being dark and unwelcoming to me.
“Oh, come on, Lisa,” Jill said. “We both know that Tom and Marcus go for the waitresses in the short dresses.”
Marcus was Tom’s best friend, and Jill was his wife. Once, we had all been invited to the bowling alley’s anniversary event, and after Jill and I saw the place, we never returned.
My plan was simple: get a night shift job at the bowling alley to make my husband jealous enough to regret his suggestion.
On my first day at the bowling alley, a Wednesday, which was Tom and his friends’ weekly bowling night, I casually asked him if he was going.
“Are you going to the bowling alley tonight? Do you want to have dinner at home before you go?” I asked while making breakfast.
“Yeah, probably,” he said, not looking up from his phone. “Make some fish and chips or something.”
“Fine,” I said with a smile. “See you there!”
His eyes finally met mine, confusion flickering across his face, but he shrugged it off.
“Oh, you have no idea what’s coming,” I thought to myself as he walked out the door.
That evening, I arrived at the bowling alley in my new uniform: a tight, short dress that left little to the imagination. I couldn’t imagine my husband would be okay with me wearing such a thing.
“I’m sorry about the uniform,” Ursula, the manager, said. “I’ve tried to make changes, like adding stockings or leggings, but the owner insists it stays like this.”
“That’s just sick,” I said.
I manned the drink stall, occasionally frying the popular miniature donuts for the teenagers bowling.
I saw Tom arrive alone and start playing by himself. As the first hour passed and the teenagers began to leave for their curfews, the men started getting rowdy. Predictably, they began hitting on me.
Eventually, my husband noticed me, his eyes darkening as he watched the attention I was getting.
“What the hell, Lisa?” Tom stormed over, eyes blazing. “What are you doing?”
“I’m working, Tom,” I said with a smirk. “You wanted me to get a second job, remember?”
“This isn’t what I meant!” he yelled.
“Well, I’m getting great tips,” I retorted.
My husband’s jaw clenched.
“Quit. Now,” he demanded.
“We need the money,” I replied, walking away to serve another table.
Tom went back to bowling, unwilling to cause a bigger scene. But I knew he’d bring it up again as soon as my shift ended.
He kept glancing over at me every few minutes.
About halfway through my shift, Ursula approached me.
“Is he bothering you too?” she asked, nodding toward Tom.
“What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled.
Ursula sighed deeply.
“That man has seduced almost all the waitresses here. One even had his child two weeks ago. She’s now seeking child support, with a paternity test to prove it and everything.”
Ursula had no idea I was married to Tom, so there was no need for her to lie or hide the truth. What she had just told me was a side of Tom I didn’t know existed.
So, that’s why he wanted me to get a second job. He wanted me to pay for his child support.
I marched over to Tom, ignoring the eyes of the other patrons.
“You’re a disgusting human being!” I screamed, slapping him hard across the face.
“What the hell, Lisa?” he yelled, holding his cheek.
“You’ve been involved with the waitresses here?! And one just had your baby?” I spat, tears streaming down my face.
Tom’s face went pale.
“I can explain,” he mumbled.
“I don’t care,” I said. “I don’t want to hear it. You will pack your things and leave tonight. Tomorrow, I will file for divorce.”
I stormed out of the bowling alley, my heart shattered. Who was the man I had married?
What would you have done?
