TaffyTipster
Market Sharp
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This thread has been coming for a while.
Bronwyn found out the full extent three years ago.
Not that I bet. She'd always known I bet.
The full extent. The amount. The years of it. What the separate account contained when she asked me directly to show her.
We'd been together twelve years at that point.
The specific evening: she asked a specific question that she'd never asked before.
Not "how much do you bet." She'd asked versions of that before and received versions of the truth.
"What's actually in the account."
Not the current balance. What had gone through it. Total. Since she'd known me.
I showed her.
The number that appeared when I added it up on a piece of paper: I hadn't added it up before.
I hadn't added it up before is the specific sentence that tells you everything.
She looked at the number for a while.
She didn't shout. Bronwyn doesn't shout.
She said: that's what it's been.
Not a question. A statement. As though she'd suspected something in the shape of that number and the number was confirming the shape.
Then she said: I need to know if it's going to keep being that.
I told her it wasn't going to be that.
I told her I was going to make changes.
Some of the changes happened. Some didn't.
What changed most: she knows the number now. The abstraction broke at the piece of paper.
What didn't change: we've never talked about it with the same directness since.
Bronwyn found out the full extent three years ago.
Not that I bet. She'd always known I bet.
The full extent. The amount. The years of it. What the separate account contained when she asked me directly to show her.
We'd been together twelve years at that point.
The specific evening: she asked a specific question that she'd never asked before.
Not "how much do you bet." She'd asked versions of that before and received versions of the truth.
"What's actually in the account."
Not the current balance. What had gone through it. Total. Since she'd known me.
I showed her.
The number that appeared when I added it up on a piece of paper: I hadn't added it up before.
I hadn't added it up before is the specific sentence that tells you everything.
She looked at the number for a while.
She didn't shout. Bronwyn doesn't shout.
She said: that's what it's been.
Not a question. A statement. As though she'd suspected something in the shape of that number and the number was confirming the shape.
Then she said: I need to know if it's going to keep being that.
I told her it wasn't going to be that.
I told her I was going to make changes.
Some of the changes happened. Some didn't.
What changed most: she knows the number now. The abstraction broke at the piece of paper.
What didn't change: we've never talked about it with the same directness since.
