The pool is different,” he said, echoing her exact words. “It’s just there. You’re asking her to trust you with her personal property.”

“Stop being such a mooch, Alisa,” he sighed, as if I were the unreasonable one. “If you want to go camping, we’ll buy our own damn tent. I don’t want my family thinking my wife can’t afford her own things.”

The next day, Patricia called, the family grapevine having done its work with remarkable speed. “Alisa, dear,” she began, her voice a weapon of condescending sympathy. “Cassidy told me about your… request. You should be grateful for everything this family does for you instead of always asking for more. Really, dear. Beggars can’t be choosers.”