I was standing at the kitchen sink, scrubbing a stack of plates, when Oliver walked in. Just before he entered, he switched the kitchen light off, leaving the room half-lit from the early evening sun.
Its still bright enough. Theres no reason to waste electricity, he grumbled.
I wanted to put a load in the washing machine, I said, wiping my hands.
Do it tonight, Oliver replied curtly. The rates are lower after midnight. And dont keep the tap running full-blast like that. You use far too much water, Sarah. Far too much. Seriously, dont you see youre pouring our money straight down the drain?
He turned the tap down until the water barely trickled. I looked at him, feeling hollow, switched the water off entirely, dried my hands, and sat down at the kitchen table.
Oliver, have you ever looked at yourself from the outside? I asked quietly.
I do nothing *but* look at myself from the outside, he snapped back. His voice could strip wallpaper.
And? What do you see? I pressed.
As a person? Oliver clarified.
As a husband and as a father, I said, not looking away.
Husband? Like any other. Father? Just as one should be. Ordinary. Not better, not worse than most. Why are you pestering me?
So, youre saying all husbands and fathers are like you? I asked, my voice soft but steady.
What are you after, Sarah? Are you trying to start a row?
But I knew this conversation had to happen, no matter where it ledit had to reach him, finally, that living with him had become a sort of torment.
Do you know why youve not left me? I asked.
Why on earth should I leave you? he replied with a mocking half-smile.
Well, for a start, because you dont love me, I said. And you dont love our children either.
He opened his mouth to protest, but I barrelled on.
And dont bother denying it. You dont love *anyone*. Were not even going to argue about it and waste our time. I want to talk about something else. About why you havent left.
So why is that? Oliver asked.
Because youre stingy, Oliver. Spectacularly tight-fisted. For you, splitting up would mean a huge financial loss. How longve we been together? Fifteen years? What have we actually *done* in those fifteen years? Im not counting getting married and having childrenwhat have we achieved?
Weve got our whole lives ahead of us, Oliver muttered.
No, Oliver. Not our *whole* lives. Only whats left, I said. I felt my patience slipping. We havent even had one proper holiday by the sea. Not once. Not even in the UK, never mind anywhere abroad. Every summer holiday, we stay right here in town. We dont even go foraging for mushrooms in the forest the way people do. Why? Because its too expensive.
Because were saving. For our future, Oliver insisted.
We? I laughed, slightly breathless. Or are *you* saving?
For you and the kids, he said.
Really? For me and the children? I challenged him. Fifteen years youve carefully put aside every penny on your account, claiming its for us?
Well, who else would it be for? Thanks to me, do you realise what weve already saved up?
We? I said again. Then I shrugged. Because I certainly havent seen any of it. Well, maybe I just dont get it. Lets check. Give me some money, please. I want to buy some new clothes for myself and the kids. Im still wearing the dress I wore to our wedding, plus the hand-me-downs from your brothers wife. Same for our childrenthey wear their cousins old clothes. And the most important thingI’d like to rent our own place. Im tired of living in your mums flat.
Mum gave us two roomsits more than enough. And you shouldnt complain about that. As for childrens clothes, why waste money? My brothers kids old outfits fit ours perfectly.
And me? I asked, tired. Whos supposed to pass their old clothes to me? Your brothers wife?
Who are you dressing up for? Oliver asked, incredulous. Honestly, its ridiculous. Youre a mother of two, Sarah! Youre thirty-five! Your wardrobe shouldnt be your top priority.
So what should I be thinking about? I asked, biting back frustration.
The meaning of life, Oliver deadpanned. Theres more to existence than clothes and all that silly womens nonsense. Higher things matter. Things with real value.
Higher things? I blinked.
Personal development, Oliver said as if it were obvious. Focus on improving yourself, not chasing after all this fuss over clothes, flats and the rest.
Right, so you sit on all the savings for our bright future, but were not to touch a penny. Were supposed to be growing, spiritually, is that it?
Its because you lot cant be trusted with money! Oliver suddenly raised his voice. Youd run straight through the lot. What would we live on ifGod forbidsomething happened?
If something happened, what would we live on? I repeated back to him. Good question, Oliver. But when are we ever going to start *living*? Dont you see? The way we scrimp and save, it’s like your what-if has already come true!
He just glared at me.
You economise down to the last bar of soap, the last loo roll, the last napkin, I continued. You even bring home soap and hand cream from the factory, whatever they hand out.
Look after the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves, Oliver said coldly. Its the little things. Buying expensive toiletries or soft loo roll is just daft.
At least give me a rough ideahow much longer do we have to put up with this? Ten years? Fifteen? Twenty? When do we get to live like real people, with decent toilet paper? Im thirty-five. Am I getting closer?
He said nothing.
Let me guess I said, staring at the ceiling. Forty? Do we get to start at forty then?
Silence.
Right. Daft suggestion. Fifty, perhaps? Will that be enough? Or is it still too soon?
Still no answer.
Too early, yes, youre quite right. Whod dream of starting their life at fifty? I pressed on. What about at sixty? By then, maybe therell be so much in the account that well finally live a little? Can I finally buy us some new clothes then?
Oliver kept staring at a spot on the floor.
You know, Oliver, my voice was trembling a bit now, what if we dont make it to sixty? Wouldnt be a huge shock, given the way we eatcheap food, big portions just to fill up, never anything decent. Have you ever considered that its bad for your health? But thats not the worst of it. Our moods are awful, all the time, have you noticed? People dont live long like that.
If we move out, pay for decent food, we wont be able to save. You know that, Oliver said softly.
I do, I agreed. Which is precisely why Im leaving. Im just exhausted by all this saving. You love it, but I dont.
How are you going to live? Oliver gasped.
Ill manage, I told him flatly. At least as well as I do now. Ill rent a flat for myself and the kids, and well live there. My salarys about as much as yoursenough for rent, food, and clothes. Best of all, I wont have to hear another lecture from you about switching off lights, water, or using the washing machine in the day. Ill use whatever loo roll I please, keep a stack of napkins on the table, and shop in the sales if I *want* to, not because I have to.
But youll never save a thing! Oliver tried once more.
Why not? I shrugged. Actually, Ill get your maintenance payments for the kids, and I could save those. On second thoughts, noI wont. Not because I cant, but because I *dont want to*. Ill spend every last penny, including your maintenance, from one payday to the next. At weekends, the kids will stay with you and your mumthatll save me money. Ill go to plays, restaurants, exhibitions. Ill take a holiday by the seaI dont know where, but Ill decide soon. Once Im free from you, I will.
Oliver looked pale, his lips moving wordlessly. I could see the sums spinning in his head, working out what hed be left with after the maintenance. But I know what made him bleakest of allthe thought of me spending our savings on nothing more than frivolous seaside breaks and outings. In his mind, it was as if the money was his.
And one more thing, I told him. The accountyou know, the one with all the savings? Well split that.
What do you mean? he stammered.
Half and half, Oliver. Ill spend my share as well. However many thousands you’ve stashed away over fifteen yearsIll use them for what I want. I wont save up for some future that never comes. Ill live now.
He pressed his lips together, frozen in shock, unable to speak.
And do you know what my dream is, Oliver? I said gently. That when my times up, I have not a penny left in my account. That way, Ill know I spent everything I had on actually living.
Two months later, Oliver and I were divorced.
What did I learn? I learned that life really isnt about saving for someday. Someday never comes unless you choose it. Id rather have memories than money sitting in a bank, and Id rather spend my days living than waiting for a perfect future that might never arrive.
