When I Forged My Husband's Name

 When I forged my husband’s name

It was to get the money

Out of the account

The clerk knew me

As the nice woman

Who brought in baked goods

Every Christmas and Easter

With a nice card

Thanking everyone at the bank

For taking care of us

All these years

Even so, there isn’t a clerk

At the Mount Faire Bank

That isn’t a stickler

And my regular was no exception

They asked if my husband could come in

To take out the amount

I was requesting

They knew that I often came in alone

Because my husband was a lawyer

And worked from early in the morning

Until late at night

Because I would chat about it with them

While I was making a deposit

The lonely housewife

Whose husband works, works, works

And barely makes it home for supper

Most nights

I’d see the way they’d look at the cash

In the envelopes

My husband would give me

Some stained--and who knows with what?

But the Mount Faire Bank

Like most banks in our area

Is nothing if not discreet

So there were no questions

And I would get a crisp deposit slip

And well wishes for the day

When I forged my husband’s name

The manager asked me

If there was any way--

Apologies, apologies

--Any way my husband could come in

They were nervous to ask

Because they assumed, correctly

That my husband was not a man

Who enjoyed errands

Like going to the bank

Or to the store

To buy his wife a birthday present

He didn’t enjoy

Picking up the children from school

Or cleaning out the hall closet

Which is why you could hide

Just about anything in there

With no worry of him finding it

A suitcase

Some passports

A loaded gun

That your mother gave you

On your wedding night

Because she saw

The writing

On the wall

You hate to do it

But you make a bit of a scene

At the bank

In front of the manager

And the clerk

Using nothing but the spittle

On the front of your teeth

You harangue these poor people

For insisting that your husband

Your beloved husband

Who works so hard

And never has any free time

Come in to the bank

To make a simple withdrawal

Money needed for the funeral

Of his dearly departed mother

And thank you very much

For bringing up such a delicate subject

Even though they had done no such thing

Almost instantly, the bank manager

Is promising you his first-born son

If you’ll accept his most profuse regrets

For not accepting your husband’s signature

In lieu of him appearing in person

Thankfully, he doesn’t compare it

To any other signatures he may have on hand

Since you never did master

Your husband’s ‘e’s

Or the way he connects

The two ‘L’s in his name to each other

You didn’t have time to practice more

Not after the call came in

On the phone in the kitchen

You holding your younger son’s bagged lunch

In your hand

The word ‘Go’

The lunch was handed over

With a quick kiss on the head

And as soon as you were done

Watching your two boys

Get on the bus

You shut the door

And began putting

Your plan in motion

But first--

You grabbed a pen

Took a deep breath

Steadied your hand

And wrote your husband’s name

Hoping you would never have to write it

Again