Enough of this! Im done lugging you all around like a pack muleno more pennies left in my pocket. Feed yourselves if you must! Blythe shouted, slamming the card reader.
She pushed the flats door open and instantly heard chatter from the kitchen. Her husband Simon was in a heated discussion with his mum, Eleanor Harper, who had arrived early that morning and made herself comfortable at the kitchen table, as per tradition.
So, whats the deal with the telly? Simon asked.
Its ancient, Eleanor complained. The pictures a mess, the sound pops in and out. It should have been swapped ages ago.
Blythe slipped off her shoes and slipped into the kitchen. Eleanor sat nursing a mug of tea; Simon was fiddling with his phone.
Ah, Blythes here, Simon said brightly. We were just talking about Mums telly.
Whats wrong with it? Blythe asked, fatigue etched on her face.
Its completely broken. We need a new one, Eleanor replied.
Simon put his phone down and stared at his wife.
You always foot the bill for stuff like this. Get Mum a new set. Were not keen on parting with our own cash.
Blythe froze as she shrugged off her coat. He said it as if buying a loaf of bread was a casual runin.
Dont feel like it either. And you? Blythe retorted.
Well, youve got a good job and earn a decent wage, Simon went on. My salarys modest.
Blythe raised an eyebrow, as if checking whether he was joking. Simons face was radiating the kind of smug certainty only a man who thinks hes doing a favour can muster.
Im not the family bank, Blythe said slowly.
Oh, come on, Simon waved her off. Its just a telly.
She plonked herself at the table and replayed the past months in her head. Who paid the rent? Blythe. Who bought the groceries? Blythe. Who covered the utilities? Blythe again. And the medication for Eleanor, who was forever moaning about her blood pressure and aching joints. And the loan Eleanor had taken out for a bathroom remodelshe stopped paying after three months and Blythe swallowed that too.
Remember anything? Simon asked.
I remember whos been picking up the tab for this family these last two years.
Eleanor interjected.
Blythe, youre the lady of the house, so the responsibility falls to you. Is it really that hard to buy a telly for Simons mum? Its a family purchase.
For the family? Blythe repeated. And wheres this family when theres money to be spent?
Its not like we do nothing, Simon protested. I work, and Mum helps around the house.
What help? Blythe asked, eyebrows climbing. Eleanor comes over for tea and a lecture on her ailments.
Eleanor bristled.
What do you mean just to talk? I give you advice on how to run a household properly.
Advice on how Im supposed to support everyone?
Who else would? Simon asked, genuinely puzzled. You have a steady job and a decent income.
Blythe stared at her husband. He truly believed it normal for his wife to bankroll the entire clan.
And what do you do with your money? she pressed.
I save it, Simon replied. Just in case.
For what case?
You never know. A crisis, a sudden sack. You need a safety cushion.
And wheres my safety cushion?
Youve got a secure job; they wont fire you.
Blythe said calmly, Maybe its time you and your mum decided for yourselves what to buy and with what money.
Simon smirked. Why the lecture? Youre a wizard with finances. We try not to burden you with extra costs.
Not burden me? Heat rose to Blythes cheeks. Simon, do you really think youre not a burden?
Its not like we ask you to buy something every day, Eleanor defended. Only when its truly needed.
A telly truly needed?
Of course! How do you survive without a telly? The news, the soaps.
You can stream everything online.
I dont understand the internet, Eleanor cut in. I need a proper telly.
Blythe saw the conversation looping like a bad sitcom. In their heads, both Eleanor and Simon genuinely believed Blythe was obliged to foot every bill while they pinched every penny for themselves.
Alright, Blythe said. Tell me how much this telly you want costs.
Probably about four hundred pounds, Simon brightened. A decent size, internetready.
Four hundred pounds, Blythe repeated. Not that much, eh?
Simon, you know how much I spend on this family each month?
Probably a lot.
Around seven hundred pounds a month the flat, groceries, council tax, Eleanors meds, her loan.
Simon shrugged. Its family. Thats normal.
And how much do you spend on the family?
Sometimes I buy milk. Bread.
Simon, you spend at most five hundred pounds a month on the family, Blythe calculated. And not even every month.
But Im saving for a rainy day.
Whose rainy day? Yours?
Ours, of course.
Then why is the money sitting in your personal account and not a joint one?
Simon fell silent. Eleanor quieted too.
Blythe, youre putting words in my mouth, Eleanor finally ventured. My son provides for the family.
With what? Blythe asked, eyebrows raised. The last time Simon bought groceries was six months ago, and that was only because I was ill and begged him to go to the shop.
But he works!
And I work. Yet somehow my salary ends up covering everyone, while his stays with him.
Thats just how it works, Simon said uncertainly. The woman runs the household.
Running the household isnt the same as shouldering everyones debts, Blythe retorted.
What do you suggest? Eleanor asked.
I suggest everyone fund themselves.
Hows that supposed to work? Eleanor wailed. What about family?
Family means everyone chips in equally, not one person pulling the rest along.
Simon stared at his wife, bewildered. Blythe, thats a strange way to see things. Were married, we have a joint budget.
Joint? Blythe laughed. A joint budget is when both people put money into one pot and spend it together. What do we have? I put money in, and you keep yours to yourself.
Not for myselfIm saving it.
For yourself. Because when moneys needed, youll spend it on your own wants, not on shared ones.
How do you know?
I just do. Right now your mum needs a telly. You have four hundred pounds set aside. Will you buy it for her?
Simon hesitated. Well thats my savings.
Exactly. Yours.
Eleanor tried to swing the argument back.
Blythe, you shouldnt speak to your husband like that. A man should feel like the head of the family.
And the head should support the family, not leech off his wife.
Simon does not live off you! Eleanor protested.
He does. For the past two years Ive paid the rent, the food, the utilities, your meds, your loan. And Simon has been stashing his money for personal use.
Its only temporary, Simon tried to defend. Theres a crisis, times are tight.
Weve been in a crisis for three years, and each month you shift more expenses onto me.
Im not shifting them; Im asking for help.
Help? Blythe chuckled. Did you ever pay the rent in the last six months?
No, but
Did you ever buy groceries?
Sometimes.
Buying milk once a month isnt buying groceries.
Okay, I didnt. But I work and bring money into the family.
You bring it in and instantly hide it in your own account.
Im not hiding it; Im saving for the future.
For your future.
Eleanor leapt back in.
Whats gotten into you? You never complained before.
I used to think it was temporary, that Simon would eventually pitch in with the bills.
And now?
Now I see Im being used as a cash cow.
How dare you! Simon erupted.
What else am I supposed to call it when one person funds everyone else and they still demand gifts?
What gifts? The telly is something Mum needs!
Simon, if your mum needs a telly, she should buy it. Or you can buy it from your savings.
But her pension is tiny!
And is my salary made of rubberstretchable without limit?
You could afford it.
I could, but I dont want to.
Silence fell. Simon and his mother exchanged glances.
What do you mean you dont want to? Simon asked quietly.
It means Im fed up supporting the whole clan alone.
But were a family; were supposed to help each other.
Exactlyeach other, not one person doing all the heavy lifting.
Blythe rose from the table, realizing shed been treated as a walking ATM.
Where are you off to? Simon asked.
To sort things out.
Without a word, she grabbed her phone, opened the banking app right there, and blocked the joint card Simon had access to. Then she transferred all her savings to a fresh account shed set up a month earlier, just in case.
What are you doing? Simon asked, uneasy.
Handling financial matters, Blythe replied curtly.
He tried to sneak a peek, but she turned the screen away. Five minutes later, every penny was safely in her own account, inaccessible to Simon or Eleanor.
Whats happening? Simon demanded, alarmed.
What should have happened ages ago is finally happening.
She went into the card settings and permanently revoked everyones access but hers. Simon stared, baffled, at the magnitude of her move.
Eleanor sprang up, frantic. What have you done? Well be left without money!
Youll have the money you earn yourselves, Blythe said calmly.
What do you mean ourselves? What about the family? What about the joint budget? Eleanor shrieked.
There never was a joint budget. There was only my budget, which everyone leached off.
Youve lost your mind! Eleanor roared. Were family!
In a steady voice, Blythe declared, From today we live separately. Im not obliged to fund your whims.
What whims? Simon protested. These are essential expenses!
A fourhundredpound telly an essential expense?
For Mum, yes!
Then let Mum buy it with her pension. Or you buy it with your savings.
Eleanor rushed to her son. Why are you silent? Put her in her place! Shes your wife!
Simon mumbled something indecipherable, avoiding Blythes eyes. He knew she was right but refused to own it.
Simon, Blythe said quietly, do you really think I should support your whole family?
Well were married.
Married means partnership, not a onesided subsidy.
But my salarys smaller!
Your salarys smaller, but your savings are bigger because you never spend them on anyone else.
Simon fell silent again. Seeing that her son wouldnt pressure his wife, Eleanor changed tactics.
Blythe, give the money back! Im running low on medicine!
Buy it with your own money.
My pensions tiny!
Ask your son. He has savings.
Simon, give me money for my meds! Eleanor demanded.
Her son faltered. Mum, Im saving that for the family.
I am the family! she shouted.
But those are my savings.
You see? Blythe noted. When it comes to spending, everyones money magically becomes personal.
Realising the seriousness, Eleanor softened.
Blythe, lets talk calmly. Youve always been kind, always helped.
I helped until I realised I was being used.
Youre not being usedyoure appreciated!
Appreciated for what? Paying all the bills?
For keeping the family afloat.
Im not keeping a family; Im supporting two adults who can earn their own money.
The next morning Blythe visited the bank and opened a separate account in her name. She printed statements for the past two years, showing every pound spent on Simon and his mumrent, groceries, utilities, meds, and the loan. It was all on her.
Back home she hauled a large suitcase and began packing Simons thingsshirts, trousers, socksfolding everything neatly.
What are you doing? Simon asked as he walked in from work.
Packing your stuff.
Why?
Because you no longer live here.
What do you mean, I dont? This is my flat too!
The lease is in my name. I decide who lives here.
But were married!
For now, yes. Not for long.
Blythe rolled the suitcase into the hallway and held out her hand.
The keys.
What keys?
The flats keys. All sets.
Blythe, are you serious?
Absolutely.
Reluctantly Simon handed over the keys, checking both the main set and the spare.
Does your mum have keys?
Yes, she drops by now and then.
Call her. Have her return them.
Why?
Because Eleanor no longer has the right to enter my flat.
An hour later Eleanor arrived, spotting the suitcase and grasping the seriousness.
What does this mean? she demanded.
It means your son is moving out.
Moving out where? This is his home!
This is my home. Ill no longer enable freeloaders.
How dare you! Eleanor exploded.
I dare. Hand over the keys.
What keys?
To the flat. I know you have a duplicate.
I wont give them back!
Then Ill call the police.
Eleanor caused a right kerfuffle, shouting that Blythe was destroying the family, that relatives shouldnt be treated like this, that shed always thought Blythe a good daughterinlaw.
The good daughterinlaw is gone, Blythe said calmly, dialing 999. Hello, we need assistance. Former relatives refuse to return the keys to my flat and to leave the premises.
Half an hour later two officers arrived, checked the title deeds and confirmed the flat belonged to Blythe.
Maam, they told Eleanor, return the keys and leave the property.
But my son lives here!
He is not the owner and has no right to dispose of it.
With witnesses present, Eleanor reluctantly tossed the keys onto the floor.
Youll regret this! she shouted as she left. Youll end up alone!
Ill be alone, but with my own money, Blythe replied.
Simon silently lugged the suitcase out, followed his mum to the door, and turned back.
Blythe, maybe youll reconsider?
Theres nothing left to reconsider.
A week later Blythe filed for divorce. There was virtually no joint property to splitthe flat had always been in her name, and the car was hers too, bought with her own cash. Nothing to divide.
Simon tried calling, begged for a meeting, promised to change, to cover all expenses himself.
Too late, Blythe answered. Trust doesnt bounce back.
But I love you!
Do you love meor my wallet?
You, of course!
Then why did you live off me for three years without a hint of remorse?
Simon had nothing to say.
The decree came quickly; Simon didnt contest, seeing the futility. The court dissolved the marriage.
For a month Eleanor kept phoningcrying, threatening, pleading for money for her meds. Blythe listened in silence and hung up.
My blood pressure is up because of you! Eleanor complained.
Ask your son to treat you; he has savings.
He says hes sorry for spending the money!
Wonderful. Now you see how I felt for three years.
Six months later Blythe bumped into Simon at the corner shop. He looked tired; his clothes had lost their former crispness.
Hi, Simon greeted, awkward.
Hello.
How are you?
Fine. And you?
Great. Im living with Mum for now.
I see.
You know, I realised I was wrong. I really dumped too much on you.
You realised?
Yes. Now I pay for all of Mums expenses myself, and its hard.
But you have savings.
I had. I spent them on Mums meds and fixing her flat.
And? Does it hurt?
Simon paused, then answered honestly, It does. A lot.
Imagine doing that for three years straight.
I get it. Forgive me.
I already have. But that changes nothing.
What if I make it right? Become a different man?
Simon, you only became different when my money ran out. Thats not changethats being forced.
But Ive learned my lesson!
You learned it only when you had to pay yourself. If Id kept supporting everyone, youd never have noticed.
Simon nodded, accepting the truth.
I have to go, Blythe said, heading to the checkout.
At home she brewed a cup of tea, settled by the window with a book. The flat was quietno one demanding money for telly, meds, or anything else. The money in herShe smiled, feeling the lightness of a life finally lived on her own terms.
