Turn it down! You promised youd quit!
Harold, have you lost your mind? I asked, steadying myself as the words rushed back. Who turns down a post like that? Do you know how much it pays?
Its all about the money, he snapped, disdainful. Or has the idea of power gone to your head?
Readers often cringe at scenes of a heroine weeping over a cooling cup of tea. Yet our heroine never drinks coffee, and the moment we first meet her is supposed to be a contemplation over a sadly warm brew. A cup of tea could be swapped for a glass of elderflower cordial, orange juice, or even milk, but that would not lighten the tragedy of her thoughts.
I sat in a plush armchair, though I felt anything but comfortable, perched on the edge with my heavy head bowed over the tepid tea. My mind was heavy, the situation seemed hopeless. One small comfort was that my son did not witness any of this. A monthlong summer camp had taken him from us, promising a happy, healthy return. The camp added to my worries, but only indirectly.
The real cause of the turmoil was Harold, my husband. The word was lingers, leaving you to wonder whether he was still my husband or if he had already become someone elsea sort of Schrödingers husband. That very question tormented me: Is he still here, or has he vanished?
His final words before slamming the door still echo in my memory.
Enough! I never want to see you again! Youve ruined my whole life! Im leaving!
It sounded clear enough, but the details remained fuzzy. Did he intend to leave forever, or only for a while? If only for a while, how long? Nights? Days? And why hadnt he taken his things if he meant to go for good? No answer ever came.
If we rewind to the moment of the argument, perhaps the cause becomes clearer. The blame lay largely with the summer camp that my son, Victor, attended. I had paid for it out of my bonus, not even using the whole sum. Harolds voice rose in protest at the expense made without him.
To throw forty thousand pounds out of the family budget takes no great intellect! he shouted. But we should discuss it first! Perhaps there are more pressing needs in our household?
I shrugged.
The money is there! If you want something, lets buy it!
He stormed out, and his words rang in my ears, sharp as a winter wind. Fourteen years of marriage cracked under the weight of his accusations. Yet I was innocent, at least in my own eyes. In Harolds mind, I was the worst of wives.
If you loved me, you wouldnt stick your nose where it doesnt belong! Sit quietly and enjoy life! Instead you always have to jump higher than everyone else!
Did you ever think of me? You only think of yourself! If you cared about our family, youd be the perfect housewife, work silently and tend the home!
I could not see what I had done wrong. I worked, I kept the house, I raised our son, I gave Harold affection. I asked him directly, but his response was a flood of screams, accusations, and complaints.
What? Why? For what reason? I asked, the tea cooling even more. And if this money has been saved for ages, why bring it up now? Why involve the camp at all?
***
Commercial properties that become office blocks are a nightmare for any visitor. Without a map or compass, you can never find the right firm. For the employees, however, the endless hallways become familiar terrain. The building is a bustling beehive of commerce.
It was in that hive that Harold and I first met. We were both junior sales managers on the bustling streets of London. There is a class of workers who start with no qualifications, handed a phone and a cold list of leads, spending days dialing and pitching. By the time we met, we had proved our worth and earned a place on staff, though the stress and constant pressure drove us to escape to the nearby park for lunch.
We worked for different agencies, and perhaps if the park had not existed we would never have crossed paths. When two people share the same hardships and frustrations, their souls tend to gravitate toward each other. A mutual attraction blossomed, and our brief marriage seemed inevitable.
We decided not to rush into having children. I owned a modest flat inherited from my grandmother, but I wanted it to be a home filled with love, which meant working. It was hard to postpone life while youth still demanded its own terms, yet we tried to balance work and evenings sharing successes and setbacks.
After three years together, I received a promotion.
Ive been offered a senior role, I said. And Im pregnant.
Goodness! Harold exclaimed. Thats wonderful!
What made you happy? I teased.
The baby, of course! he replied. Your promotion will stay where it is, but a child must be born!
Only later did I understand the true meaning of his words. At that moment, no promotion had actually been offered to him; he had chosen a child over his own advancement. While I was on maternity leave, the entire financial burden fell on Harold. As a manager, his base salary was modest, with the real earnings coming from commissions. He worked hard, yet a raise never materialised.
When I returned, the same promotion that had been offered to me before my pregnancy was now extended to me. From that point, a subtle nervousness settled over our household. I blamed it on jealousy toward my son, while Harold began staying later at work. Both of us received promotions simultaneously: Harold became a senior manager, and I was appointed head of my department.
Harold was stingy with compliments but generous when praised. It was then that he pressed me to devote more time to home and family.
Soon Ill be heading the division, he said. Why waste your days in dusty offices? You know its better for you to stay at home with the child. Ill provide for us!
Harold, I cant quit now that Ive just been promoted, I protested. People trust me, they rely on me!
So work matters more than family? he asked, a question that cut deep.
Everything was important to me. I managed the office, the child, and the home.
Let me finish the tasks already set for me, then Ill resign, I suggested.
Harold agreed, unaware of my bosss plan. For me, it was a test: to hand over a branch to my own care.
When he handed me the official notice, I was shocked.
I didnt even ask! I muttered. The regional director showed up, handed me the order, flowers, congratulations, and I couldnt even speak!
Refuse it! Harold declared firmly. Come back on Monday and turn it down. You promised youd quit!
Harold, have you gone mad? I asked, regaining my composure. Who turns down a post like that? Do you know the salary?
We could finally finish the renovation, buy a car, send Victor to a good school!
We could finally take a proper holiday, not scrimp for three years!
Its all about the money, Harold replied dismissively. Or has the lure of power clouded your judgment?
I think about the family first, I said. I manage work, the house, everything. Our home is always tidy, meals are prepared. I always find time for you!
Harolds complaints faded once I bought a car myself, handing him the keys. The atmosphere settled, and life returned to a pleasant rhythm. We completed the renovation, enrolled Victor in a reputable school, and took two trips a year.
Then a new problem arose.
We need a second car, I said. I miss driving the first one.
Am I no longer a suitable driver for you?
We had been working in the same building up to that point.
Im being transferred to the headquarters, I replied, shrugging. Its in the very centre of the city. If you drive me there, youll be stuck in endless traffic and be late for work.
Harold sighed. If it must be done but is it really necessary to move to the main office?
We went through this before, I reminded him. While the bosses have an interest in you, you should take advantage of every opportunity they give.
Soon the younger, eager staff would replace us, so we must earn and save now to avoid later regret.
He muttered, Yes, yes
The summer camp reappeared in my thoughts. Forty thousand poundsmore than half my salaryhad been spent on Victors camp. It was not even half of my bonus. The money had been transferred calmly, and only later did I grasp why Harold had been so incensed.
The cold tea in my cup finally began to make sense.
Envy! I realised, as a sudden insight struck. Its plain envy. Harold never rose beyond senior manager.
For him, forty thousand pounds was a fortune; for me, it was just part of a living. He had climbed only one rung in fifteen years. Memories flooded back of him insisting I quit my job and become a housewife, never to outshine him. When the rift seemed unbridgeable, Harold finally snapped, driven by something even deeper.
The clink of a turning key in the lock broke the heavy silenceit could only have been Harold. I leaned back in my chair, adopting a relaxed, almost regal posture.
Im back, Harold said, entering the room.
For my things? I asked.
He shot me a contemptuous glance. Im home! Home!
No! I retorted with a sly smile. Youre back for your belongings! I wont live with you any longer!
Fine, sorry, he muttered, moving toward the sofa.
No, I wont forgive you! I said more sharply. Im not going to forgive you! You already told me everything! Ive decidedI dont need a husband who cant achieve anything, and Im not at fault for earning more than you!
Im not to blame for everything youve accused me of! I continued, recalling how after work I still managed the house, raised our child, and gave you attention!
Youre just tired after work, thats all. You probably treated your job the same way! I added, concluding that it no longer mattered. Pack your things and leave!
What, you finally felt powerful? Harold shouted. Everyone knows how you scraped your promotions! Youre the boss now!
I wished the tea had stayed hot; the impact would have been even greater. Harold simply wiped his face.
Over the next cup of teastill warmI realised that from the very beginning of our relationship Harold had been driven by rivalry. He lived to outdo his wife, and the bigger the gap, the more it shattered his love. Whether love ever existed, I would contemplate over another cup.
Perhaps I should not wait for the tea to cool; after all, its meant to be drunk while hot.
