Everything Should Be Split Evenly
Emily, we need to talk about spending. Your spending, to be precise. You’re such a spendthrift.
Emily froze, her mug of tea halfway to her lips. It was just after seven, mist curling at the windows, and she still wasnt fully awake. But Edward stood in the kitchen doorway, looking for all the world like a judge preparing to deliver a life sentence.
What spending? And why am I a spendthrift? she managed, finally taking a sip. The tea was instantly tasteless.
Youre always buying things for yourself. Theres always a parcel arrivingdresses, skincare, sometimes I swear its just a box for the sake of it. And that cream was, what, nearly a hundred pounds?
Emily gently set down her mug. What a greeting for the morningno warning, no Good morning, love.
Sixty pounds, actually. If it means that much to you. And I dont buy something every week. Thats once every few months.
Emily, we have a shared account. Edwards voice had the flat patience of a maths teacher with a hopeless pupil. Emily gritted her teeth. Counted to five. It didnt help.
Do you want to talk about how much you spend on your car every month?
He scowled, caught off guard by the counterattack.
Thats different.
Of course. Petrol, cleaning, policies, MOT every year. Ive never even driven your Land Rover, you know. I wouldnt even know where the ignition is.
I drive it to work, Edward folded his arms, Its essential.
Emily laughed, a touch manic.
Essential? Really? And my clothes and makeup are for whatentertainment? I sit in an office all day, meeting with clients. You never see me in a baggy t-shirt and chapped lips for a reason.
You could be more… economical.
Fine. Emily nodded. Ill wear the same blazer to meetings for three years straight, and you can trade your Land Rover in for a Corsa. Gets you to work, doesnt it?
Edward opened his mouth. Closed it. Rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Dont twist things.
No, youre the one twisting. When you spend, its wise. When I do, Im careless. Convenient maths.
He hovered, then tossed his hand dismissively and left. Emily heard the front door slam.
Her tea was cold. She poured it down the sink and leaned her forehead against the cool tiles.
A stellar start to the day. Just perfect…
At work, Sarah nearly choked on her salad.
He actually said that? First thing in the morning?
Emily prodded the limp cutlet on her cafeteria plate. Appetite had failed her since dawn and stubbornly refused to return.
He did. I didnt even get to finish my tea.
Classic, Sarah said, reclining in her chair. My ex did the same. Came on all modern about fairnesslets split everything, properly even. Sounded great.
And?
I just pointed out that he ate twice as much. Lookyoghurt for me, massive fry-up for him. Salad for lunch, hed have two mains. Told him to pay proportionally for the food. Fairs fair.
Emily grinned. Sarah should have been a barristerher arguments airtight.
He do the maths?
Oh, yes. For three days he went everywhere with a receipt book and calculator. Thennothing. And a month later, we split.
You think that was why?
No. Just a symptom. Sarah speared a tomato. If a blokes counting your pennies, hes not really with you. Hes with some idea in his head, and youre just in the way.
Emily stayed quiet. There was something unsettlingly accurate in Sarahs words.
That evening Emily walked home slower than usual, got off the bus a stop early, let the drizzle and the oily sweet smell of wet tarmac linger in her hair. Anything to delay what was waiting at home.
The flat was silent. Edward wasnt in yet. Emily changed, pulled chicken and veg from the fridge, began prepping dinner. Her hands worked automaticallychop, season, fryher head gloriously blank for once.
Edward got in at eight, lurking in the kitchen doorway as she stirred the pan.
Havent splurged on anything today? he asked.
She didnt turn round, just kept stirring.
No. Didnt buy a thing.
He nodded and retreated to change. She set the table: two plates, salad, chickensmaller portions tonight, since shed pointedly skipped the shop. They sat down. Edward eyed his portion, then met her gaze.
Whys there so little food?
Emily set her fork neatly down. Held his gaze, cool and steady.
Well, you wanted things even. Thats even.
Edward blinked. Once, twice. His fork hung mid-air.
Whats that supposed to mean?
It means, she said, I cooked dinner and split it. Two equal portions. Thats yours. Theres enough for my breakfast, too. Dont know what youll have in the morning. It wouldnt really be fair to spend more just on you, would it?
Colour rose under Edwards stubble, his jaw flexed.
Emily, dont you think this is a bit much?
Too much? She raised an eyebrow. What exactly is too much? Youve made your point about splitting everything. Thats what Im doing.
Thats not what I meant.
What, then? That only my spending should be cut, while yours is sacred?
He said nothing, searching for some argument but coming up empty.
By the wayshe took a sip of waterhow much did you spend on petrol today?
Whats that got to do with anything?
Just how much?
He hesitated, frowned, did some quick sums.
Ten pounds. Maybe twelve.
Lets call it ten. She stood up. One moment.
She disappeared into the hall. Edward heard drawers, the rattle of coins. Emily returned with his wallet.
What are you doing? he bristled.
Taking my half. She calmly opened his wallet, plucked out a five-pound note and two pound coins, and slipped them into the pocket of her dressing gown. Edward stared, slack jawed.
Emily, you cant be serious.
Deadly. She set the wallet in front of him. You spend ten on petrolI get five for myself. Thats proper fairness. Just like you wanted.
But this is ridiculous!
Its your system, Eddie. Im just following the logic. She smiled as she sat once more. Maybe Ill save for a new blouse this way.
He was silent, jaw working, a vein standing out on his neck. Emily ate her chicken calmly as he mutely fumed.
They finished dinner in silence.
The week crept by. Every night, Emily cooked just for two, dividing every meal with mathematical precision. Edward glared at his rations, then at hers, silent and sulking. Each morning, she asked how much petrol he was buying; each evening she claimed her share. By Wednesday, hed started taking the Underground to work.
By Friday, he was gaunt and wolfish.
By Saturday, Emily had almost a hundred pounds in a pink envelope in her drawer. Edward had been surviving on vending machine sandwiches, the leftover roast strictly rationed. She knewshed counted his change on Monday night. Evenly, as instructed.
On Saturday morning, Emily found Edward nursing a mug of tea at the kitchen table, shadows gone navy blue under his eyes.
Em… he began, rubbing his neck. I was wrong. Im sorry.
Emily poured herself coffee, sat opposite, warming her fingers.
It was daft, Edward admitted. I read some rubbish somewhere, got it in my head. Lets just forget this whole splitting thing. All right?
All right, she agreed easily. Just so you know, I havent even factored in my housework.
What do you mean?
Cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing. If I did the proper market rates, youd owe me another hundred, at least.
Edward choked on his tea and scrambled for a napkin.
But I wont, Emily added, sipping her coffee and watching him over the rim. So long as you stop making our marriage an accountants project. Deal?
Deal. He nodded vigorously. Promise. No more splitting.
Good.
Emily smiled, reaching for a biscuit. Edward looked at her like a man whod outrun disaster by inches.
And Emily thought, sometimes you have to carry a mans daft ideas to their logical end. Show them the absurdity from the inside out. Turn things to your advantage.
Thats when you dont just save the marriageyou win the argument too. Its simple arithmetic, really.
