This evening, as I was scrubbing the dishes in the kitchen, David wandered in, flicking off the light as he entered.
Its more than bright enough in here no need to waste electricity, he grumbled, barely looking at me.
I was just about to put the washing on, I replied quietly.
Do it tonight, when the tariffs lower, he cut in sharply. And you can turn that tap down a bit, Hazel. You use so much water, its ridiculous. Honestly, dont you realise youre just washing our money down the drain?
He twisted the tap, making the flow a trickle. I watched him with a weariness I felt deep in my bones. Defeated, I switched off the water, dried my hands and sat down at the table.
David, have you ever looked at yourself from the outside? I asked.
He scowled. Thats all I ever do look at myself from the outside.
And what do you see?
As a person? David raised an eyebrow.
As a husband and a father.
He shrugged. Im a husband, as husbands go, a father like any other. Ordinary. Nothing special. Just like everyone else. Why are you picking at me?
So you reckon all husbands and fathers are like you?
What are you looking for? A row?
I knew there was no way back from this, and that I had to keep going. Maybe, if I pushed a little more, hed finally realise how unbearable life with him had become.
Do you know why youve never left me, David?
He snorted, And why would I leave you?
Well, for a start, because you dont love me, I said, my voice calm but tired. And you dont love the kids either.
I saw the protest rising but pressed on.
Dont bother denying it. You dont love anyone, David. And Im not going to arguetheres no use. But I wanted to point out something else. Why havent you left us? Ill tell you. Its because youre so tight-fisted. The idea of losing money over splitting up terrifies you. How long have we been together? Fifteen years? Whats it been for? What do we have to show for it, except that we got married and had children?
Weve still got our whole lives ahead of us, he said stiffly.
Not all of it, David. Just whats left. In fifteen years, not once have we had a trip to the seaside, not even for a few days. Not abroadjust here in England. Every single holiday, we stay in town. We dont even go picking blackberries in the countryside. Why? Because its too expensive.
Were saving. For our future, David insisted.
We? I couldnt help but laugh. You mean youre saving?
For the family! For you and the children, he grumbled.
Really, for us? Fifteen years youve pocketed both our wages each month and tucked them away for me and the kids?
What do you think? he replied. Thanks to me, do you know how much we have saved up?
We? I think its you who has something on your account, not me. But maybe Im wrong I paused and squared my shoulders. Lets check. Give me some money. I want to buy myself and the children some new clothes. Ive been wearing the same stuff since our wedding and anything else I get is hand-me-downs from your brothers wife. The kids, too they wear things their older cousins have outgrown. And I want us to finally rent our own place. Im exhausted living in your mums flat.
Mum gave us two rooms, David said. Youve nothing to complain about. And clothes why waste money? My brothers kids old things do the job.
And me? Whose cast-offs should I wear? Your brothers wife?
What are you dressing up for? Its daft. Youre thirty-five, Hazel, mother of two. You shouldnt care about clothes.
So what should I care about? I asked.
About lifes meaning, David replied grandly. There are bigger things than clothes and all that girly nonsensethings of real value.
What are you even on about?
Personal growth, Hazel. You need to get above all this fuss about clothes and flats and stuff. There are more important things.
Oh, I see, I said, my voice icy. Thats why you keep all the money to yourself, for our spiritual wellbeing, is it?
Because youd just blow it! How would we live if something happened? he shouted.
How would we live if something happened? I repeated, quietly mocking. Do you not see that we are already living as if your something has happened? Thats how tight things are.
David stared at me, lips pressed thin in anger.
You skimp on everything, even washing up liquid, loo roll and napkins. You pinch soap and hand cream from work, for goodness sake.
Look after the pennies and the pounds look after themselves, he said flatly. Its all about the little things. No need to splash out on expensive stuff.
At least give me some idea how long were supposed to go on like this. Another ten years? Fifteen? Twenty? When will it be enough for us to finally live proper lives? With decent toilet paper? Im thirty-fivedo I still have to wait?
He said nothing.
Shall I take a wild guess? Forty? Is that the magic number when we start living?
Nothing.
I see. Stupid of me. Who starts living at forty? Childs play. Sorry. How about fifty, then? Can we begin, finally, at fifty?
Silence from him.
Still too soon, isnt it? God forbid we start using proper loo roll too early and end up out on the street! No, youre right, not at fifty. Sixty then? Maybe then, with all the money stowed away?
Still not a sound.
You know, David, I said after a moment, I just had a thoughtwhat if we dont make it to sixty? Thats not so unlikely. We eat rubbish because youre so stingy, and we overeat, probably as some kind of compensation. Dreadful food, and plenty of it. Ever think that might be unhealthy? But even thats not the biggest problem. Were always in such poor spirits, David. Miserable, all the time. And people dont live long like that.
If we move out and start spending on better food, we wont be able to save, David muttered.
No, we wont, I agreed. And thats exactly why Im leaving you. Im tired of saving. You enjoy it; I dont.
How on earth are you going to live?
Ill manage, I said. It cant be worse than this. Ill rent a flat for me and the kids. My wages are as good as yours enough for rent, decent food and clothes, and most importantly, no more lectures about water, gas and electricity bills. Ill use the washing machine any time I like, not just at night. If I forget to turn a light off, I wont panic. Ill buy the best toilet paper and always have napkins on the table. And Ill shop for what I want, when I want, never mind the sales.
But you wont be able to save a penny!
Who says? I might put by your child maintenance for the kids although you know what, youre right, I wont. Ill spend every last pound, including your support. Ill live week to week. And on weekends, Ill bring the children round for you and your mum. Imagine a break for me! Ill go to the theatre, restaurants, exhibitions. And in summer, Ill go to the coast. Not sure where yetbut Ill decide, once Im free of you.
A sort of panic flashed in his eyes. Not for me, or for the children, but for himself. I could see the mental calculations whirring, working out what would be left after maintenance and weekend expenses for the kids. But what really seemed to sting him was the idea of me wasting his money on holidays.
Theres one more thing, I continued. The account you keep? Well split that.
What do you mean?
Half and half, David. And Ill spend my share too. However much has stacked up over fifteen years. Ill spend it all. Im not saving for some distant life I want to live now.
David just moved his lips, unable to speak. The shock of my words seemed to rob him of sound and thought.
And you know, David, I said softly, my dream is to get to the end of my life with not a single penny left in my bank account. Then Ill know for sureI used everything I had to live.
In two months, we were divorced.
