My father took my mother’s entire salary for 43 years. When she finally demanded her money back, he placed a folder on the table and said, “When you open it, you will never look at me the same way again.”
My father took my mother’s entire salary for 43 years. When she finally demanded that he give her money back, he placed a folder on the table and said, “When you open it, you will never look at me the same way again.” 
Our neighbors had always thought my father was a bad man. To be completely honest, I thought the same thing for many years.
He rarely smiled, spoke briefly and sternly, and looked so cold in photographs that people often asked my mother:
“Margaret, are you really happy with him?”
My mother always gave the same answer:
“If you want to understand Robert, don’t look at his face.”
But no one understood what she meant.
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My mother worked at a small clothing factory for more than forty years. Every Friday, she received her paycheck, came home, and placed the sealed envelope in front of my father.
He would open it, count the money, and take it into the bedroom. My mother was left with almost nothing.
I first noticed it when I was twelve years old.
One day, my mother saw a beautiful blue coat in a store window. She stood there for a long time, looking at it with a smile. The winters in our town were very cold, and her old coat was already completely worn out.
“Buy it, Mom,” I said. “You worked all week for that money.”
My mother was silent. When we got home, she cautiously asked my father:
“Robert, can I keep a small part of my salary this month? I need a new coat.”
My father didn’t even look up.
“Not this month.”
“But my old coat is torn.”
“I said no.”
