Valerie Finally Had Enough: After Fifteen Years of Pennypinching, She Leaves Her Miserly Husband, De…

Valerie was scrubbing the dishes at the kitchen sink, her hands red from the hot water, when John walked in. Before he entered, he flicked the light switch off with a decisive snap.

Its still bright enough. No need to waste electricity, he muttered, his brow furrowed.

I was about to put a wash on, said Valerie softly.

Do it tonight, John replied curtly. When the rates cheaper. And dont turn the tap on so full, youre letting far too much water go, Valerie. Honestly, its like youre pouring our money down the drain. You have to understand, we cant live like that.

John twisted the tap, reducing the flow to a thin trickle. Valerie stared at him hopelessly, then turned the water off altogether. She dried her trembling hands and lowered herself at the kitchen table, eyes fixed on the faded wallpaper.

John, do you ever look at yourself from the outside? she asked quietly.

I spend all day every day looking at myself from the outside, John snapped, bitterness in his voice.

So what do you see in yourself? Valerie pressed. As a husband? As a father?

A husband like any other, John replied flatly. A father like any other. Normal. Average. Nothing special. No different from the rest. Why are you going on at me?

Are you saying all husbands and fathers are like you? Valerie asked, her tone even.

What are you after? John shot back. You want an argument?

Valerie knew there was no going back now; this conversation needed to play out, needed to reach a point where he might begin to understand how living with him was agony.

Do you know why youve never left me, John? Valerie asked, her voice trembling.

Why would I leave you? John fired back, his lips twisting into a mocking grin.

Because you dont love me, Valerie said, her words stark, almost cold. And you dont love our children either.

John drew breath, about to protest, but Valerie pushed on.

Dont bother denying it. You dont love anyone. Theres no need to waste time arguing. What I want to talk about is why you havent walked out on us.

Go on then. John folded his arms. Why?

Because youre tight-fisted, Valerie answered without hesitation. Youre so stingy, John, that leaving me would feel like throwing a fortune away. How many years together now? Fifteen? And what do we have to show for it? Besides being married, having kidswhat have we actually done with our lives?

Weve got our whole lives ahead of us, he answered, avoiding her stare.

Not the whole thing, John. Thats the point, isnt it? Just whats left. In all this time, John, not once have we taken the children to the seaside. Not once. Im not asking for a holiday abroad. We havent even holidayed anywhere in England. We never leave the city. We dont even go mushroom picking in the countryside like other families. And why? Because its all too expensive, right?

Were saving up, John said flatly. For our future.

We? Valerie scoffed gently. Or is it just you?

For you lot, obviously, John replied, offended.

For us? Valerie echoed, scrutinising him. So for fifteen years, youve scrimped and saved every pound, every penny, for me and the kids?

Well, who else? John looked away. You know how much Ive got in the account because of me?

We? You mean youve a stash somewhere, but its not mine, is it? Valerie replied, her voice hard. In fact, perhaps Im missing something. Herelets test it. Give me some money. I want some new clothes for myself, for the children. Ive worn the same things since I married you, and our kids wear what your brothers boys outgrew. And above all, Ill rent my own place at last, because Im tired of living in your mums house.

Mums given us two whole rooms, John retorted. You ought not complain. And as for the kids clothes, why waste money? Your brothers kids have outgrown theirs, ours might as well use them.

And what about me? Valerie demanded. Whose hand-me-downs should I wear? Your brothers wifes?

Whats the point in you buying new things? John countered. Youre thirty-five, a mum of two. You shouldnt be worrying about clothes.

If not that, John, what should I worry about?

About the meaning of life, John replied loftily. About the big things, not your daft fuss over clothes or flats. Things that matter, things with real value.

What on earth are you talking about? Valerie frowned in confusion.

Personal growth, he proclaimed. The important stuff. You ought to rise above obsessing over laundry and new dresses or rent

I see, said Valerie, voice thick with emotion. So you keep every penny in your account and give us nothingfor our spiritual well-being, yes? So we grow, while you hoard for our happiness?

Because you can’t be trusted not to blow it all, John suddenly shouted. If something happened, what would we have to live on? Have you thought of that?

What would we live on if something happened? Valerie repeated, an odd look on her face. Thats rich, Johnreally rich. Only, tell me, when do we actually she paused, summoning the nerve, live? Isnt it clear to you that this thing of yours, this what if, has already arrived in our lives?!

John glared, silent as stone.

You scrimp even on soap, loo rolls, and napkins, Valerie continued, voice rising. You pinch what you can get from your work, the hand soap, the hand cream

Look after the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves, John cut in. Its all about the details. Wasting money on fancy soaps and tissues is daft.

Just tell me, how much more do I have to endure this, John? Valerie pressed on. Another ten? Fifteen? Twenty years? How long do you intend to hoard, depriving us? Im thirty-five. Is the time not ripe yet?

John said nothing, his lips clamped in silence.

Shall I guess? Valerie mocked, though her voice wobbled. Forty? Shall we start living, then? No? Of course notjust a slip of the tongue, forgive me. What about fifty? Is that old enough? Any takers?

John remained mute.

Still too young, Valerie continued, with grim understanding. Absolutely, fifty is too soon. Imagine something happening and us left penniless after a splurge on decent loo roll! Quite right. Sixty, then? Will we have enough by sixty? By then, well finally live a bit. Well have loads put asidemaybe then, at last, I can buy some new clothes for myself and the children?

He gave her nothing but silence.

Listen, John, Valeries voice sounded suddenly urgent. Do you know whats struck me? What if we dont make it to sixty? Theres every chance, you know. The way we eatcheap rubbish by the sackful because its all were allowed. Ever wonder why we eat so much? Because its tasteless muck that fills space. Its not good for us. But thats not all, John. Cant you see were miserable? You may not notice, but people dont last long when theyre miserable all the time.

If we move out from Mums and eat properly, then we cant save anything, said John, his voice shrinking.

No, we cant, Valerie agreed levelly. And thats exactly why Im leaving. Im done with saving. You can keep hoarding all you like. Im finished.

How will you live? John cried, a sharp edge of horror in his voice.

Ill manage, Valerie replied simply. No worse than now. Ill rent a flat for the children and me. My wages match yours, you know. Theyll be enough for rent, clothes, food. Most importantly, I wont have to listen to your lectures on energy bills, water bills, or the price of bread. Ill use the washing machine when I please, not only at midnight. If I leave a light on by mistake, I wont have to panic. And Ill buy the best loo roll out there, with paper napkins always on our table. And when I shop, Ill get what I want, not whats on sale.

You wont be able to save a penny, John breathed, his face drained.

Oh, Ill save, all right, Valerie said. Ill put aside your child maintenance for the kids. Although, come to think of it, youre rightI wont save anything. Not because I cant, but because I dont want to. Ill spend every penny. Including your maintenance. Ill live from paycheque to paycheque. And at weekends, Ill bring the kids to yours and your mumsthatll save me some cash. While theyre with you, Ill go to theatres, restaurants, galleries. And in summer, Ill take the children to the seaside. I dont know which coast yet, but Ill choose, just as soon as Im free from you.

Johns eyes went black with dread. It wasnt for his wife. Nor for his children. No, it was for himself. In an instant, he calculated how much would remain for him after child support and weekend visits. But what stung worst of all was the thought of Valerie’s holidays to the sea. In his mind, that was money thrown awayhis money.

I havent told you the best part, Valerie said, her voice clear. That account you keep tucked away, the one you stashed our money in? Well split it.

Split it? John was baffled.

In half, said Valerie. And Ill spend mine, too. However much youve salted away these past fifteen years. Im not saving for my life, John. Im going to live it. Now.

Johns lips moved, but not a sound came out. The terror of losing what hed clung to rendered him helpless, as if every word and thought had been swept away.

Do you want to know my dream, John? Valerie said at last, softly but with unshakable certainty. When the time comes to leave this world, I want there to be not a single penny left in my name. Thats how Ill know I truly lived.

Two months later, John and Valerie were divorced.