‘O…kaaay,’ I said slowly. ‘So, how much does that all come to?’
With an exaggerated sigh, he told me the initial fee and the fortnightly payments.
‘Eddie!’
‘Oh, come on. It’s my money, I want to spend it where I like.’ His voice rose in protest.
‘I know. But we’ve always agreed to discuss our finances, anything extra has to be an agreed discretionary spending in our personal accounts. Without discussion you’ve added a new bill. Is this your discretionary spending? You said it was coming out of our account, not yours.’ It was my turn to be irritable. Unhappy, I looked down at my meal. It no longer looked appetizing.
I’d heard most couples argue about money. And sex.
‘No, it’s from my discretionary account. I bloody well want to do this.’ His voice rose again.
‘Okay, I get it.’ I said. ‘But we could at least have talked about this, so we can adjust our budget accordingly.’
His shoulders relaxed. He assumed I was backing down. But I was only partially backpedaling.
‘Right. But while we’re still young and unencumbered, we should enjoy our financial freedom, not be scrimping and saving and having no fun.’
‘I agree. And I know you want me to manage our money, which means we should have discussed this first. I want you to enjoy the gym. Of course I do. Remember, if I hadn’t been careful with every penny, we wouldn’t have been able to afford our trip to Hawaii? It pays to plan and save. Scrimping and saving works. With the accountancy stuff you do at work, surely you, of all people, can see that? We’re already saving for a trip to Alaska next summer, so your gym fees mean a thousand pounds we won’t have to spend on that trip. That’s a lot of money.’ Spent on him, not on something for both of us. But I didn’t bother pointing that out.
His face wore a stubborn look.
I spread my hands. ‘You’re welcome to take on our budget, if you’re not happy with me doing it. Or better yet, we could do it together.’ It took all of two seconds to see he didn’t like either suggestion.
‘No.’ He snapped. ‘I work on accounts all day. It’s not something I want to come home to at night.’
‘Alright,’ I countered, anger building. ‘But don’t forget this is a democratic marriage, sharing ups and downs, finances, new ventures, housework and our lives. We’re not carefree teenagers. This is real life, with real responsibilities.’
He conveniently forgot I’d saved to buy this house long before we met, while he’d bought a new car every year since commencing work after uni. I liked my way of spending money.
He hopped off his barstool and strode round the kitchen, face livid. ‘We need to have fun. We only get to be this age once in our lives. Can’t you see how penny-pinching you sound? You’re telling me off like a naughty kid, for joining a gym and spending money on myself?’
‘Yeah, I can see how you’d feel like that. But you’re still saving for a motorbike. It’s your pet project, and only for you, and yet my goal is to save for a holiday for both of us.’ I was shouting now. ‘Where’s the justice in that? We both want the holiday, yet it’s up to me to manage the money and I can see where every penny goes and it’s not on me. I’m not out there buying shoes or handbags, or expensive jewelry. I’d prefer a holiday instead of all that.’ I crossed my arms, infuriated. How could he not be objective about this?
I didn’t want him to buy a damned motorbike. Or a new car every time he fancied it. I hadn’t actually told him that, but he wanted that, as well as a new car, and I could, I really could, see why he wanted fun while still young, it’s just that not everything is affordable while you’re still young. I propped my elbows on the kitchen bench with a thump.
Arms crossed, Eddie leaned against the sink, rigid with tension.
‘I don’t want to be a killjoy, love.’ I lowered my voice. ‘But the reality is we only have a limited income and a whacking great mortgage to service, so our options are limited for now. We just have to work with what we have.’
He sat down again, tension subsiding. ‘I’m sorry, darling. You’re right. We should have talked this gym thing over. And you do a great job with the finances. Maybe I should think seriously about whether I still want the motorbike.’ He thought about that for a few moments. ‘I do still want it, but maybe I can wait a bit longer and adjust my savings to allow for the gym.’
Still uneasy, I nodded, forcing a note of acceptance in my tone. ‘That’s great, love. I know we can work it out. We just need to co-operate so we don’t end up like other couples, fighting over money and resenting each other.’
He hopped off his stool and came behind me, thumbs stroking my neck, I relaxed against him. I knew what he had in mind. He swung the stool round to face me and leaned in for a kiss.
‘Beautiful Rose,’ he whispered. His hands slid under my t-shirt, thumbs circling my nipples until I was breathless and very, very ready. Sex was always good with Eddie, it was one of our strengths. Not something we’d argued about. Ever.
✽ ✽ ✽
The next day, I arrived home at four in the afternoon. I hadn’t taken into account Eddie’s new timetable. My early work shifts mean I cook evening meals. Eddie was often home between six and six-thirty. I cooked his favorite, eggplant moussaka, for dinner.
Six-thirty arrived and Eddie was a no show. I assumed traffic must be heavy and turned the oven down. When seven o’clock came I was pacing between the kitchen and living room. I tried his mobile, but it went to message bank. I left a message the first time. I called several more times, anxiety mounting.
His work phone also went to answer phone. He wasn’t there. I racked my brains, trying to remember if Eddie had told me he’d be out.
I called Andy. He was a registrar at the same busy hospital as me, so I wasn’t confident he’d be available to answer. He answered on the second ring.
‘Rose. Lovely to hear from you.’ He sounded genuinely pleased.
‘Hi, Andy.’ I tried for witty as I rushed to explain. ‘I’ve lost my husband.’ My voice broke. Visions of Eddie in an accident filled my brain. ‘He’s really late and I’m worried. Any idea where he might be?’
‘I expect he’s at the gym, Rose. He was really chuffed when he called me last night, raring to get going. Guess he forgot to tell you, huh?’
I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. ‘Of course, how dumb am I? He was pretty keen after his first night. I didn’t realize he might be there tonight, as well. Thanks, Andy, that’ll be where he is.’
I hung up, slumped in relief, but frowning. Had he told me he’d be going again tonight? I went back over our conversations. He might have mentioned it when I was falling asleep. But I couldn’t recall it at all.
I ate dinner on my own in front of the TV, watching a rerun of something forgettable.
Eddie breezed in, wearing gym clothes, at about eight-forty-five, gave me a big kiss and threw himself into an armchair. He was exultant. It didn’t seem the right time to tell him I’d been worried.
‘That was great.’ He launched into a detailed description of the machines he’d used, the weights he’d lifted and his great endorphin rush.
Pasting on a smile, I murmured in all the right places, at the same time wondering what an elliptical trainer was and whether lateral pull-downs of sixty kilos was heavy or not. His exercise talk made me feel irrationally tired.
I yawned.
‘Poor Rose.’ He stood and hauled me to my feet. ‘You look beat. Come on, up the stairs to bed.’
‘What about your dinner?’ I protested. ‘It’s moussaka, wrapped in foil, ready to go back in the oven.’
‘Never mind that. I’ve already eaten. There’s a great cafe at the gym, serving healthy low-carb meals.’ He was off again, ranting about high protein diets and selective reduction of carbs and fats.
I knew all this stuff. Recognizing different diets suited to individual needs was part of my job. Not that I’d made more than a feeble stab at any of it in my
own life of late. Heavy-hearted, I plodded upstairs.
Eddie knows I know all this. We’d talked about faddy diets and what worked for a while and what worked in the long term. Perhaps coming from me it didn't sound as convincing as an enthusiastic fitness coach.
I was brushing my teeth when it occurred to me. ‘Eddie.’ I leaned round the bathroom door. ‘How often are you going to go to the gym?’
‘Oh, you know, several nights a week.’ He avoided my eyes while digging for something in his sock drawer. ‘I love the endorphin rush, there’s nothing like it.’
Spitting out the toothpaste, I said nothing. I didn’t want to sound difficult, and I didn’t want to nag. I hoped his enthusiasm was a passing phase and he’d tire of his new hobby in the not-too-distant future.
That was Tuesday night. By the time Friday night came around I’d eaten alone three nights that week. Thursday’s have been his squash night for a couple of years, I expected his absence. He played tennis or squash with Andy, Tony and now Martin.
We were at the pub on our Friday night regular hangout, when Martin mentioned Eddie had left work early to fit in a gym session before meeting him for squash. Surprised, I blinked and stared at my inattentive husband.
Eddie looked great. I don’t mean he’d already reshaped his body, more that he glowed with health and vitality. Feeling like a stranger in my marriage, I excused myself and headed for the toilets. My puffy face in the bathroom mirror eyed me unhappily.
Back at the table, I ditched my fish and chips, appetite gone. Thoughts jumbled, I knew I had to make a few decisions of my own.
I’d eaten poorly without Eddie at home. Cooking for one was a hassle. I’d had egg on toast and beans on toast, which sounds okay, unless you count the ice cream I’d devoured each night after my modest meals. I silently promised to make more of an effort. Eddie ate meals at the gym every night. How much did they cost? He hadn’t told me and I’d been too wary to ask. Another argument didn’t appeal. Besides, Eddie wouldn’t overspend on meals – not when he was saving for his all-important bike and a new car. And our holiday.
Shona glanced at my plate of abandoned food; eyebrows raised. I shook my head. This wasn’t the time or place to announce I’d started dieting. I hadn’t fully committed to it.
Saturday was a surprise. We did the chores together on Saturdays. A habit that suited us both.
Eddie appeared in the kitchen before nine-o-clock, dressed for the gym.
‘I’m off,’ he announced, voice upbeat.
Startled, nervous knots swirled in my stomach. ‘What about Saturday chores?’
‘I’ll do them when I get home, babe. Don’t fuss.’ His kiss barely touched my lips.
‘Well, should I get the groceries while you’re out?’
Pausing halfway through the front door, head cocked. ‘If you want to. Or we could do it this afternoon. You decide.’
With that he was gone.
A few choice words followed him, but the door closed before they reached him.
Solo grocery shopping’s never a big chore. Buying food takes less time alone. Bringing it home and unpacking is the part I dislike. Lunch came and went, my temper rising as I eyed the clock. I’d barely seen my husband in the last six days.
Eddie rocked up mid-afternoon practically bouncing off the walls.
‘Good workout?’ I bit back sarcasm. He didn’t notice.
‘Fantastic.’ He gave a distracted hug and a peck on the cheek. ‘I’m starving.’ He strode over to the fridge and pulled out sandwich fixings.
Intrigued, I watched him make a ham and salad sandwich without the usual lashings of butter and mayonnaise. He used no spread at all. This was new.
Sensing my eyes on him, Eddie turned to show me. ‘This is a healthier sandwich. Why don’t you try it without mayo or butter?’
Stung, I swallowed hard. ‘I’d use avocado, I suppose.’
He threw me a pitying look. ‘It’s still high fat. Too many calories.’ His eyes swept me from head to toe. ‘You should lose weight, love. It’s not healthy carrying too much fat.’
‘I know.’ I turned away, blinking back tears. If he’d said it with love I’d have taken notice of his blunt words. There was no love, only a hint of disdain.
‘What’s going on, Eddie? I feel like you’re making decisions about your lifestyle without any attempt to include me. I don’t get it.’ Was he rejecting me?
With a casual shrug, he finished his sandwich. ‘Well, I’m enjoying the gym. I suppose you could join too, if you got motivated.’ His tone was reluctant.
‘But you’d prefer me not to go, is that it?’
‘You wouldn’t take it seriously. I don’t need someone holding me back. I really want to be fit. Let’s face it, love, you’re not interested in getting fit.’
I blinked back ready tears. His dismissal of me left me speechless. All the decisions he made were about his lifestyle, none of them involved me. I felt like a stranger watching on.
We finished remaining chores in awkward silence and then drove to his parents’ home for dinner.
I wouldn’t have been their choice as a daughter-in-law. I knew no woman would have been suitable.
I didn’t take it too personally.
Edie pratted on about his latest hobby. Never interested in my life, unless it pertained to Eddie, Edna and Bert ignored me, only throwing in a couple of questions as afterthoughts.
The thing is, I’d like to chat to his parents. But Edna, a lifelong domestic drudge, wanted none of it. Knitting was her favorite hobby. I like to knit, but she’s an expert and her condescension was transparent. Condescension with everything, whether cooking, shopping or cleaning. As she was not a gardener, my forays into discussing growing were met with cold eyes and a curled lip.
Once again heavy-hearted, I went to bed weighed down with loneliness. Sleep was elusive. I lay rigid in bed, wrestling with multiple thoughts. My own failure in weight loss stakes was foremost. I was unhealthy and unfit, continuing to eat in an essentially destructive manner. I felt trapped in my own body.
My thoughts turned to Eddie. His absence for hours at a time, also trapped me into a lifestyle crisis of my own. Should I bite the bullet and join the same gym? He’d said no to that. Restless, I turned over to see him in semi-darkness. He was sound asleep.
I’ve never fancied the gym, not at school and not as an adult. At the thought of turning up at a gym in my current state I cringed. The irony wasn’t lost on me.
If Eddie chose to stay out most evenings, what was I, his wife, meant to do? When we’d been engaged, we spent every possible hour together. We went for evening walks, we partied with friends, we had weekends away. We had cycling days. Days rambling through historic towns. Those days seemed like a memory wrapped in sepia, not a reflection on our current standing.
Wedding madness had taken over. We knew it would. For a while. Now we were back to normal, those glory days ought to have picked up again. Had Eddie lost interest in spending time together? Our inseparability had vanished. And I had no idea why. The only change since our engagement was a legal document binding us to marriage.
Nothing else.
And now he was busy making a life of his own, making new friends, while I sat at home watching TV and stuffing my face.
Resentment lurked under the surface.
Sleepless and miserable I rolled out of bed, creeping down to the kitchen to make a hot chocolate with two teaspoons of sugar. A dumb act of defiance and comfort.
✽ ✽ ✽
Sunday was a better day. We caught a train to London and visited the Natural History Museum, afterwards we wandered through Covent Garden and stopped for lunch at a new restaurant. I chose a bun-free burger and salad. Eddie chose steak and chips. His mixed food messages confused me.
But this outing was more like the old us – a young couple enjoying carefree days in each other’s company, before thinking about parenthood and other responsibilities.
Our togetherness ended wh
en the work week commenced. Alone at home again, I planned ways to enjoy evenings while Eddie was at the gym. Friday night was a late shift for me. I missed out on our regular night at the pub. Eddie was still out when I arrived home around eleven o’clock.
I texted him. ‘Should I join you? Or is it too late?’
‘On my way home in about 10 minutes. CU then, lv E x’
Too tired to be more than half disappointed, I climbed into bed and waited. Fifteen minutes passed, then thirty and, finally, one hour. I walked round the house in an effort to stay awake, but I turn into a pumpkin after midnight, so I climbed back into bed, asleep before my head hit the pillow.
Eddie woke me, switching on lights, stumbling around and generally being an ass. I rolled over to squint at the clock. Two o’clock. What the hell?
‘You’re late.’ I turned my back to him.
‘Sorry, babe, we ended up at Tony and Lisa’s.’
Who’s “we” I wondered, before dropping back into a deep sleep.
When I woke the next morning, Eddie had already gone to the gym, leaving a two word note. ‘At gym.’ I snorted.
Eddie’s share of housework last weekend had been no more than a lick and a promise. No way would that be good enough this time. I cleaned the bathroom and kitchen and left the easy part for him.
Gardening helped. Muttering under my breath I wrenched weeds from their toehold, planted tender salad seedlings, soothed by contact with plants. Even pushing the lawn mower around was therapeutic. As a bonus, I burned calories as I puffed and panted behind the noisy beast.
My thoughts were busy while my hands were engaged. Eddie must know our marriage was suffering. Our commitment to honesty had disappeared in the six weeks since our honeymoon. As for sharing our thoughts and feelings, he simply didn’t want to know. His separate life made that clear.
If this continued, I might have to think about divorce
Startled, I sat back on my haunches. Where had that thought come from?
Promises Made- Promises Kept Page 8
