Well, if that’s how it is, Im moving back in with Mum! the husband shouted.
And you stay here alone! his wife retorted.
Eleanor found herself perched on the edge of a shattered cup: no lover, no job, no prospects. And now NewYears Eve loomed
All my nerves are cursed! her mother cried, hearing the scandalous news. Its all his fault, that scoundrel of yours! Hes the one who dragged you down! Do you think anyone else could have pushed you over the edge?
So? Martin smiled. Come on, make peace Im waiting!
Eleanors life was riddled with two calamities: not the kind you read about in gossip columns, but the very real onesher husband and her beloved boss. It was the sort of doublewhammy that many of us know all too well.
They werent cheating on each other; they were each poisoning Eleanors world in their own solitary way.
Her husband was clever, witty, a dazzling conversationalist, and a hopeless romantic. All that, however, was just talk.
When it came to getting a job, the truth emerged: he was sick, exhausted, unready, and, frankly, lazy. Martin loved a good meal above all else.
In short, everything unfolded like one of those familiar British fairy tales:
Bubble, go eat your porridge! Wheres my big spoon?
Before they were wed, fleeting meetings were enough: a quick dinner of takeaway pizza, a decent nightcap, banter that sparked like fireworksnothing more romantic could be imagined. It seemed the perfect recipe for a marriage.
Eleanor, head over heels, failed to notice that her fiancé was stuck in a chronic quest for identity and employment.
Ill find something Ill tell you first, love! hed joked.
They laughed together; at the time it felt hilariously absurd.
Martins wit was legendary, and he started calling her Elf and Little Elf. She, in turn, dubbed him Martinette!
No, not a monkeythough the letter K in that nickname carried a sting, a childish taunt, a tiny fishlike tease. Everyone knows what a monkey is, after all.
Martinette sounded weightier, more respectable. Eleanor didnt want to hurt him.
When the wedding bells rang, Martin moved in with Eleanor, for the thirtyyearolds own flat was nowhere to be found.
Jokes wont pay the bills! Eleanors mother concluded, disliking her new soninlaw.
Who could stop them? He wasnt a comedian; he wasnt a prankster.
The first misunderstanding came over the rent. Eleanors purse was empty, so she did what any sensible wife would do: she asked her husband for the money.
By the way, it turned out Martin was a homebody! He was always huntingfor a job and for himselfpreferably from the couch, where ideas seemed to sprout more easily. What if they call me up for a drill tomorrow and Im too tired? hed mutter.
Pay from your own stash! Martin suggested, eyes twinkling.
My own stash ran out today; I spent the last bit on groceries! Eleanor replied, stunned, her picture of married life shattered.
Then take from what was gifted, and Ill make it up later!
Whens later? she asked.
Later, when the soups done and the cats fed! he chuckled at his own punchline.
Theyd been given about two hundred thousand pounds as a wedding gifta tidy sum in their modest estate. Their parents had stopped supporting their daughter once she married, insisting: Let your husband feed you!
Martin, whod been a freeloader at his parents house, was now cut off: Youve moved out? Good riddance!
Eleanors salary vanished, and she dipped into the wedding cash, then into more cash, until the emergency fund melted away like a snowball in May.
When she reached into the cherished box again, it was empty. Shed expected at least a few coins left. The boxs emptiness was stark: Martin had taken the leftovers for a new pair of headphones!
He didnt understand why that was wrongold headphones were dead, after all, he quipped.
What are you going to call yourself, Riley? Eleanor snapped.
What? Come up with something youre my craftswoman!
She tried, then fell silent; the suggestion was too brazen. The next day she borrowed from her mother until payday.
Did that stop Martin? No. He didnt sprint off to find work. He simply joked, I cant stand being ignored, especially by Eleanor! and then, in a sudden turn of affection, said, Enough of the games, little Elf. Ive missed you
They reconciled, both admitting they missed each other. Yet a sour aftertaste lingered. Borrowing until payday from Mum became a habit, never lifting Eleanors spirits.
One afternoon her motherinlaw snapped:
Martin, have you earned any gold yet, or are you still living off Eleanors neck?
Martin fell silent, unable to retort. What could he say to the truth?
Eleanors second torment was her boss, Martha Benson, the department head who liked to be called the Boss Lady by her staff. Eleanor worked as an economic analyst.
Martha was a rare, icy creaturea selfstyled ice queen. Compared to her, Lady Snowflake looked warm. Martha, a widowed aunt in her fifties, despised everyone simply because they dared exist without her permission. She loathed both men and women, having endured three failed marriages where each husband cheated.
She ran the department with an iron fist, childless, with two cats, and twiceweekly tango lessons. Layoffs were her favorite sport.
When junior analyst Pete Rylands joked about Marthas tango, suggesting she should lead a folk dance instead of prancing on the floor, the decision was made in six seconds, as the office whispered.
You’re no longer employed here! the Boss Lady declared, cold as a winter night.
No amount of pleading could change it. It was just a jokepeople laughed; Eleanor froze, as many did in Marthas presence. Yet fate, as they say, can be merciful.
The night before NewYears, Eleanor and Martin argued again, this time over something trivial that sparked a cascade of buried grievances. Martin, for the first time, mentioned divorce
The next morning, a distraught Eleanor went to work with one goal: to craft a fitting SMS to the man whod wronged her. She decided to call him not Marty but Martymonkey, a harsher jab.
She typed:
Dont think, you monkey, that Im scared of your words! Ill walk away youll be left biting your elbows! Stop showing off, or Ill hand you over to the zoo theyve been waiting for you!
She signed not as Elf but as Eleanor, making it official.
She smiled at the message; it had the right mix of humor and spite, much like Martins style, and said everything she wanted without outright cruelty.
NewYears Eve approached, and as the saying goes, the way you meet it is the way youll spend it. Divorce? They hadnt even made it a full year together!
Suddenly, her boss stormed in, shouting:
Everyone, get to work, Eleanor! The annual report is a messfix it and tell me when youll have the corrected version! Otherwise termination is imminent!
Martha, flushed with adrenaline, left the office satisfied, like a predator after the hunt.
Eleanor stood frozen; when a boss entered, you were supposed to rise. The black cloud over her life was widening.
She scrolled through the report, spotted the error, and fired off an SMS to her boss, because she didnt want to face him in person. She also sent a quick text to Martin.
Three minutes later, Martha called her in.
Who do you think you are, a monkey? she asked, voice flat, eyes on Eleanors phone. Sending me to the zoo, Eleanor? Really?
Eleanors heart pounded, the words tangled. The bosss nickname fit her like a glove.
It felt like a scene from a comedydrama, except neither woman was laughing.
Eleanor stared at the floor; explaining seemed pointless. Everything looked surreal, absurdly fitting: Dont think Im scared, Ill leave, Ill hand you to the zooGod, is this really happening?
Martha thought her staff had grown too bold. You really think you can reply like that? Thats beyond the line! She declared them dismissed, as if shed toss them into a toilet.
Youll get your final calculation today: no need to work! By the way, youll have time for a trip to the zoo! she added, smirking.
Your own have probably been waiting! she finished.
Shed won. Eleanor left the office, spending an hour and a half getting ready.
Soon, with the cash shed finally received, she drove home on her trusty cactusdecorated bike.
Come on, start making up, will you? Martin said, appearing in the hallway, smiling. Its perfect timing; you said youd sort it out by lunch!
Martin, having read the missent SMS, realized Eleanor had taken a break and was on her way back to reconcile, just in time.
Why bring a cactus instead of flowers? he laughed. A man doesnt have to give roses, you know! Im waiting!
Your proper is where I keep it! Eleanor shouted, nerves snapping. Hes waiting, you see! Where am I supposed to shove this cactus? You got me fired!
It was all logical. If they hadnt fought yesterday, she wouldnt have sent that text, and he wouldnt have been forced to send any.
Why is this because of me? Martin asked genuinely. Did I mess up again?
Not your business! Eleanor shrieked.
I dont get it! he replied, ignoring her about being fired. Its just a little thing well survive. So, what? Not making peace? Fine Ill go back to Mum! And you stay here alone!
Eleanor was left on the shattered cup: no lover, no work, no future. And how would she face NewYears
All my nerves are cursed! her mother moaned upon hearing the disaster. Hes to blame, that scoundrel hes the one who dragged you down! Who did you cling to? Hes like a soap bubble shines for a moment, then pops!
Choose your mates more carefully, dear, and watch who you bring home!
Its okay, dont cry no ones dead! Rest from work for a bit; your father and I can easily feed you!
Her mother invited Eleanor to spend NewYears at her house, promising that a friend would bring a handsome, single son.
Grandma joined, adding:
A loss? Let someone else stir the pot! Hes been feasting on free vinegar the whole house is ruined!
And, like her mother said:
Choose your suitors more carefully!
Eleanor and Martin eventually split; theyd stopped understanding each other, becoming petty, cruel, and nothing more.
Old jokes about doing things more carefully rang true. Take heed, Eleanor, and especially watch those texts youll see what chaos can follow.