“Stingy Man’s Tears”
“Where are you off to, all dressed up?” the neighbour asked, spotting Jeremy in his crisp suit and tie.
“To my son’s graduation,” he replied.
“Blimey! Other people’s kids grow up fast…”
“So do your own,” Jeremy said with a faint smile.
“Aye… So, no more child support to worry about soon?”
Jeremy gave him such a look the neighbour immediately regretted his words.
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Come off it, mate. Sick of handing money to the ex-wife yet?”
“Not at all,” Jeremy snapped, leaving the man baffled as he strode away.
Slowly, his good mood returned. Memories washed over him…
***
That day his life turned upside down, Jeremy had been numb.
By all accounts, he had it all: free as a bird, better wages than most, a lovely flat, no shortage of female attention, a thriving business. So why did he feel so hollow? Nothing brought joy. No desire to do anything. Couldn’t care less about a thing.
Leaving the office, he knew rain was coming. The sky had darkened, the wind picking up.
He hailed a cab—no need to get soaked. His car was in the shop, and he’d never owned an umbrella.
Slumping into the backseat, he sank into that familiar emptiness. The driver prattled on, trying to impress a clearly well-off fare, while some dreary tune played on the radio…
Jeremy hated that kind of music…
Then, suddenly, lyrics cut through the fog, dragging him back to reality.
*”I lived so reckless, wild and free,*
*Like madness coursing through my veins.*
*Her love once seemed eternity,*
*No thought of loss, no thought of pain.*
*But day by day, I let it fade,*
*Each hurt I caused cut deep inside,*
*And lost the love I threw away,*
*The days when she was still my bride…”*
A deep ache spread through his chest—pain so sharp it startled him. Then he understood.
Lucy…
Lulu…
Lucille…
Different names for different chapters of their life.
Their school romance had led to marriage. No one believed Lucy Hartwell—the pretty, clever girl—would ever marry Jeremy Dawson, the school troublemaker.
But *he* knew. He couldn’t imagine life without her.
For her, he’d studied hard. For her, he’d clawed his way up. For her, he’d become the man he was.
And she?
Always there. Loving. Caring. Pushing him forward.
Gave him two sons.
Forever steady, patient, beautiful.
Never a complaint, never a reproach.
She was content with it all.
At some point, Jeremy decided that was just how things were. That she’d always be there. That she’d never leave—no matter what. Understand, forgive. Stay.
And so, Jeremy let loose. Money came, and with it, friends, girls, all-night work parties…
Lucy stayed quiet. Never asked. Accepted it.
Raised their boys…
No excuses, no apologies, no help from him.
He provided. Thought that was enough to keep her happy.
He was wrong.
One day, it ended with three words:
“Jeremy, I don’t love you anymore.”
“Don’t be daft,” he scoffed. “You’re just tired. Let’s have supper—”
She set plates on the table. “You don’t understand. We need a divorce. I can’t do this anymore.”
“And what about the boys?” he snapped, then cringed at how clichéd it sounded.
“Of course. They deserve love… not just a marriage.”
“Sod off, then!” Jeremy grabbed his jacket and stormed out.
Three days gone. Waiting. Hoping she’d call, beg him back.
Silence.
He returned to find suitcases in the hall. Hers. The boys’.
“What’re you doing?”
“Packing.”
“Why?”
She stared at him like he was dim.
“Stop this,” Jeremy growled. “Don’t… I’ll go.”
And he did.
Left everything to her and the boys.
In his world, there was no other way.
After the divorce, Lucille stayed single for years. He knew. So he’d drop by unannounced, spoil the boys, demand respect. Felt entitled to it.
Then—she remarried.
Jeremy was livid. How *dare* she? The mother of his children! She should be kissing his feet for the house, the alimony, the extra help!
So he made her life hell.
Especially when drunk.
Which happened often now.
Calls. Texts. Threats.
Lucy ignored him. Until she blocked him everywhere.
Then he started waiting for her outside…
Sober, he’d curse himself for losing control, for doing things he’d never do clear-headed…
But no matter the guilt, he never apologised. Couldn’t look her in the eye.
Bit by bit, his life became pure hate. For himself. For her. For the world.
He stopped feeling anything.
Hated it all…
***
And now, this song…
“Who’s singing?” Jeremy rasped.
“Blimey, mate! That’s Terence Tate! Never heard of him?”
Jeremy didn’t answer. “Turn the car around. Now. Fast.” He gave an address.
Passing a supermarket, he spotted an old woman selling peonies. Lucy’s favourite.
Stopped the cab, bought the lot, shoved money at the startled woman…
Now—her door.
His heart hammered so hard it might burst.
Long-forgotten feelings surged.
For the first time in years, he felt alive.
Yes. This was it.
He rang the bell.
Lucille answered. First confusion. Then fear. Then—seeing the scoundrel she’d once loved, shuffling awkwardly—she smiled. Knew he wasn’t here to fight.
“Come in,” she stepped aside.
He entered. Held out the flowers.
“These are for you. I remember…”
“Thank you,” Lucille buried her face in them.
“Lulu, who is it?” Her husband, James, stepped out—wearing a silly cartoon apron.
Seeing Jeremy, his smile vanished. Past run-ins never ended well.
“Lucy,” Jeremy said softly, holding her gaze. “I get it now. I was wrong. I ruined my own life. My happiness. Did it myself. Because life without you and the boys… it’s nothing. You’re all I’ve got.”
Lucille said nothing. James held her hand.
“And you—James, right? Thank you. For being there for them. When I wasn’t.”
Jeremy offered his hand.
James hesitated—then took it.
“The boys?” Jeremy asked. “Can I…?”
“Of course,” Lucy smiled. “They’ve missed you.”
Dinner followed. Long talks. A decision:
They’d stay in each other’s lives.
***
Years passed.
Jeremy lived alone, worked hard. But always made time for his sons.
He became a regular in Lucy and James’ home. Holidays. Weekends.
Even bonded with James over fishing.
The boys took to it too.
No one saw Jeremy as an outsider anymore. Just family.
He treasured that. Never gave them reason to doubt him again.
***
Lost in thought, Jeremy didn’t notice he’d reached the school.
“Dad!” His eldest waved.
“Am I late?” Jeremy hugged him, shook James’ hand, smiled at Lucy. “Walked here.”
“Right on time,” Lucy said. “It’s just starting.”
*”How late we learn what really matters,*
*Through loss, through pain, through wasted years.*
*Who warms her now, who hears her laughter,*
*Who wipes away her hidden tears?*
*May life be kind, may love surround her,*
*God keep her safe, her children near.*
*For I knew joy—then threw it under,*
*The days when she was still my dear.”*
—Terence Tate
Jeremy never became a fan. But every time that song played, a few stubborn tears rolled down his cheeks.
