Im fed up carrying you all on my back! No more of my own moneygo sort yourselves out any way you like! I shouted, slamming my hand onto the debit card.
I pushed open the flats front door and immediately heard voices drifting from the kitchen. My wife, Elsie, was chatting with her motherMrs. Margaret. The old woman had arrived early that morning and made herself at home in the kitchen, as she always does.
Whats the trouble with the telly? my motherinlaw asked.
Its ancient, Mrs. Margaret complained. The pictures washed out, the sound cuts in and out. It should have been replaced ages ago.
I slipped off my shoes and slipped into the kitchen. Mrs. Margaret was perched at the table with a mug of tea; Elsie was fiddling with her phone.
Ah, Elsies here, I said, brightening. We were just talking about your mums TV.
Whats wrong with it? Elsie asked, sounding weary.
Its completely busted. We need a new one, Mrs. Margaret replied.
I set my phone down and turned to my wife.
You always foot the bill for stuff like this. Buy her a TV. We dont feel like using our own cash.
Elsie froze, pulling off her coat. He said it as plainly as if he were talking about buying a loaf of bread.
I dont feel like it either. And you? she asked.
Well, you have a good job, you earn decent wages, I explained. And my salary is modest.
Elsie frowned, looking at me as if checking whether I was serious. I nodded. My face radiated confidence in what I was saying.
Im not a bank, Elsie said slowly.
Oh, come on, I waved her off. Its just one TV.
She sat down at the table and replayed the past few months in her mind. Who paid for the flat? Elsie. Who bought the groceries? Elsie. Who covered the utilities? Elsie again. And the medicines for Mrs. Margaret, who was always moaning about her blood pressure and aching joints. The loan Mrs. Margaret had taken out for renovationsshe stopped paying after three months, and Elsie took it over, too.
Remember something? I asked.
I remember whos been paying for everything in this family for the last two years.
Mrs. Margaret stepped into the conversation.
Elsie, youre the lady of the house; the responsibility falls on you. Is it really so hard to buy your motherinlaw a TV? Its a family purchase.
For the family? Elsie repeated. And wheres this family when moneys needed?
Its not like we do nothing, I objected. I work, and Mum helps around the house.
What help? Elsie asked, surprised. Mrs. Margaret only pops round for tea and to chat about her ailments.
Mrs. Margaret took offence.
What do you mean just to chat? I give you advice on how to run a family properly.
Advice on how Im supposed to support everyone?
Well, who else would? I asked, genuinely puzzled. You have a steady job and a good income.
Elsie stared at me. I truly believed it normal for my wife to shoulder the whole family financially.
And what do you do with your money? she asked.
I save it, I replied. Just in case.
For what case?
You never know. A crisis, a redundancy. You need a safety cushion.
And wheres my safety cushion?
Youve got a reliable job; they wont sack you.
Elsie said calmly, Maybe its time you and your mother decide for yourselves what to buy and with what money.
I smirked. Why talk like that? You manage money so well. And we already try not to burden you with extra costs.
Not burden me? Blood flushed Elsies face. James, do you really think youre not burdening me?
Its not like we ask you to buy something every day, my motherinlaw defended me. Only when its truly needed.
Is a TV truly needed?
Of course! How can you live without a TV? The news, the programmes.
You can watch everything online.
I dont understand the internet, Mrs. Margaret cut in. I need a proper TV.
The conversation went round in circles. In their minds, both Mrs. Margaret and I genuinely believed Elsie was obligated to provide for everyone while we pinched every penny for ourselves.
Alright, Elsie said. Tell me how much the TV you want costs.
Well, you can find a decent one for about three hundred and sixty pounds, I brightened. A big set with internet.
Three hundred and sixty pounds, Elsie repeated.
Yeah. Not much.
James, do you know how much I spend on our family each month?
Well a lot, probably.
About six hundred and thirty pounds a month. The flat, groceries, council tax, your mothers medicines, her loan.
I shrugged. Its family. Thats normal.
And how much do you spend on the family?
Well sometimes I buy milk. Bread.
James, you spend at most fortyfive pounds a month on the family, Elsie 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 in a joint one?
I fell silent. Mrs. Margaret quieted too.
Elsie, youre saying the wrong things, my motherinlaw finally ventured. My son provides for the family.
With what? Elsie asked, astonished. Mrs. Margaret, the last time James bought groceries was six months ago, and only because I was ill and asked him to go out.
But he works!
And I work. For some reason my salary goes to everyone, and his goes only to him.
Thats just how its done, I said uncertainly. The woman manages the household.
Managing the household doesnt mean carrying everyone on your back, Elsie retorted.
And what do you suggest? Mrs. Margaret asked.
I suggest everyone support themselves.
Hows that supposed to work? the motherinlaw cried. What about family?
What about family? Family is when everyone contributes equally, not when one person drags everyone else along.
I looked at my wife, bewildered. Elsie, thats a strange way to think. Were husband and wife, we have a joint budget.
Joint? Elsie 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 needs, not shared ones.
How do you know?
I just do. Right now your mother needs a TV. You have three hundred and sixty pounds set aside. Will you buy it for her?
I hesitated. Well thats my savings.
Exactly. Yours.
Mrs. Margaret tried to turn the tide.
Elsie, you shouldnt talk to your husband like that. A man should feel like the head of the family.
And the head of the family should support the family, not live off his wife.
James does not live off you! Mrs. Margaret protested.
He does. For the past two years Ive paid for the flat, food, utilities, your medicines, and your loan. And you have been saving money for your personal needs.
Its only temporary, I tried to justify. Theres a crisis, times are tough.
Weve been in a crisis for three years now. Every month you shift more expenses onto me.
Im not shifting them; Im asking for help.
Help? Elsie let out a short laugh. Did you pay the rent at any point in the last six months?
No, but
Did you buy groceries?
Sometimes.
Buying milk once a month does not count as buying groceries.
Well, okay, I didnt. But I work and bring money into the family.
You bring it in and immediately stash it in your personal account.
Im not hiding it; Im saving it for the future.
For your future.
Mrs. Margaret jumped back in.
Whats gotten into you? You never complained before.
I used to think it was temporary, that youd soon start pulling your weight with family expenses.
And now?
Now I see Im being used as a cash cow.
How can you say that! I exploded.
What else am I supposed to call it when one person supports everyone else and they still demand gifts?
What gifts? The TV is something Mum needs!
James, if your mother needs a TV, then she should buy it. Or you can buy it for her out of your savings.
But her pension is small!
And is my salary made of rubberstretchable without limit?
Well, you can afford it.
I can. But I dont want to.
Silence fell. I and my motherinlaw exchanged glances.
What do you mean you dont want to? I asked quietly.
It means Im tired of supporting the family alone.
But were a family; were supposed to help each other.
Exactly. Each other. Not one person helping everyone else.
I rose from the table. I realised they saw me as a moneymachine that should dispense cash on demand.
Where are you going? Elsie asked.
To sort things out.
Without another word, I grabbed my phone and opened the banking app right there at the table. My fingers moved swiftlyblocking the joint card that my wife could use. Then I went to transfers and began moving all my savings to a new account Id opened a month earlier, just in case.
What are you doing? I asked warily.
Handling the finances, I said curtly.
My husband tried to glance at my phone, but I angled the screen away. Five minutes later, all the money had been shifted to my personal account, inaccessible to anyone else.
Whats happening? I asked, alarmed.
What should have happened ages ago is finally happening.
I went into the card settings and permanently revoked access for everyone but myself. My husband stared at me, bewildered, not grasping the magnitude of what was occurring.
Sensing trouble, Mrs. Margaret sprang up from her chair.
What have you done? Well be left without money!
Youll be left with the money you earn yourselves, I replied calmly.
What do you mean, yourselves? What about family? What about the joint budget? she screamed.
Mrs. Margaret, we never had a joint budget. There was only my budget, which everyone fed off.
Youve lost your mind! she kept shouting. Were a family!
In a steady voice I said clearly:
From today onward we live separately. I am not obliged to pay for your whims.
What whims? I objected. These are necessary expenses!
A threehundredandsixtypound TV is a necessary expense?
For Mum, yes!
Then let Mum buy it with her pension. Or you buy it with your savings.
Mrs. Margaret rushed to her son:
Why are you staying quiet? Put her in her place! Shes your wife!
I mumbled something unintelligible, avoiding her eyes. I knew she was right but wouldnt admit it aloud.
James, I said quietly, do you really think I should support your whole family?
Well were husband and wife.
Husband and wife means partnership, not a situation where one person funds everyone else.
But my salary is smaller!
Your salary is smaller, but your savings are biggerbecause you dont spend them on anything but yourself.
I fell silent again. Realising my son wouldnt pressure his wife, Mrs. Margaret decided to act herself:
Elsie, return the money immediately! Im running out of medicine!
Buy it with your own money.
My pension is small!
Ask your son. He has savings.
James, give me money for medicine! she demanded.
My son faltered. Mum, Im saving that for the family.
I am the family! she shouted.
But those are my savings.
You see? I noted. When it comes to spending, everyones money suddenly becomes personal.
Realising how serious things were, Mrs. Margaret changed tactics.
Elsie, lets talk calmly. Youre a kind woman; youve always helped.
I helped until I realised I was being used.
Youre not being usedyoure appreciated!
Appreciated for what? For paying all the bills?
For supporting the family.
Im not supporting a family. Im supporting two adults who can work and earn their own money.
The next morning I went to the bank and opened a separate account in my name. I also printed statements for the last two years to show that all the money had been spent only on my husband and his mothergroceries, rent, utilities, medicines, and the motherinlaws loan. It was all on me.
When I got home, I hauled out a large suitcase and started packing Jamess thingsshirts, trousers, socksfolding everything neatly.
What are you doing? my husband asked when he came home from work.
Packing your things.
Why?
Because you dont live here anymore.
What do you mean, I dont? This is my flat too!
The flat is in my name. I decide who lives in it.
But were husband and wife!
For now, yes. But not for long.
I rolled the suitcase into the hallway and held out my hand.
The keys.
What keys?
To the flat. All sets.
James, are you serious?
Absolutely.
Reluctantly, he handed over the keys. I checkedmain set and spare.
Does your mother have keys?
Yes, she drops by now and then.
Call her. Have her return them.
Why?
Because Mrs. Margaret no longer has the right to enter my flat.
An hour later the motherinlaw arrived. She understood the seriousness when she saw the suitcase in the hallway.
What does this mean? she asked, stern.
It means your son is moving out.
Moving out where? This is his home!
This is my home. And I no longer want to support freeloaders.
How dare you! she 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.
She raised a ruckus, screaming that I was destroying the family, that you dont treat relatives like this, that she had always thought of her daughterinlaw as a good girl.
The good girl is gone, I said calmly and dialled the police.
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. They clarified the situation and checked the documents for the flat.
Maam, they said to the motherinlaw, return the keys and leave the flat.
But my son lives here!
Your son is not the owner and has no right to dispose of the property.
With witnesses present, the motherinlaw reluctantly took the keys from her purse and tossed them on the floor.
Youll regret this! she shouted as she left. Youll end up alone!
Ill be alone, but with my own money, I replied.
James silently lifted the suitcase and followed his mother out. At the door he turned back.
Elsie, maybe youll reconsider?
Theres nothing left to reconsider.
A week later I filed for divorce. There was almost no joint property to splitthe flat had belonged to me from the start, and the car had been bought with my own money. Nothing to divide.
James tried calling, asking to meet and talk. He promised everything would change, that he would pay all the expenses himself.
Too late, I answered. Trust doesnt come 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 shred of remorse?
He had no answer.
The decree was signed quicklyJames didnt contest, seeing how pointless it was. The court dissolved the marriage.
For another month Mrs. Margaret kept calling, crying into the phone, then threatening, then begging for money for medicine. I listened in silence and hung up.
My blood pressure is high because of you! she complained.
Ask your son to treat you; he has savings.
He says hes sorry to spend the money!
Wonderful. Now you understand how I felt for three years.
Six months later I ran into James at the supermarket. He looked tired; his clothes had lost their former crispness.
Hi, he greeted awkwardly.
Hello.
How are you?
Great. And you?
Fine Im living with Mum for now.
I see.
You know, I realised I was wrong. I really did dump too much on you.
You realised?
Yes. Now I pay for all of Mums expenses myself, and I see how hard it is.
But youve got savings.
I had. I spent them on Mums medicine and repairs to her flat.
And? Does it hurt to spend it?
He paused, then answered honestly, It does. A lotNow I walk away, lighter and freer, knowing Ill never again let anyones demands drain the only wealth I truly own.
