Emily, were starving! Stop lying there and get up! a disgruntled voice crackled over the kitchen door.
Her head throbbed, her throat felt like sandpaper, and her nose was stuffed solid. She tried to stand, but her limbs were as soft as a pillow. No wonder she felt awful.
The week had been a scorcher, and yesterday, just as dusk fell, a sudden sleetandrain shower turned everything into a soggy mess. Spring, really? Taxis were as scarce as a dry day in Manchester, so she had to catch the local minibus from work. She waited thirty minutes for a bus that was already bursting at the seams. She squeezed in with a sigh of relief, then faced a lengthy stroll from the stop to the housedespite having asked her husband to pick her up on his way home.
Emily, Mark and I are stopping by my mums. Well be late, Mark texted. As usual.
So Emily trudged home late, drenched and shivering. She glanced at the clock8a.m. on a Saturday.
Mark, could you fetch the thermometer, please? she asked.
Whats up? Youre sick? And breakfast? Mark replied, confused.
Do we have to make it ourselves? Emily ventured.
What do you mean ourselves? And wheres Tommy? Mark asked, bewildered.
The lads ten now, and youre a grown man. Fancy making us some scrambled eggs? Maybe the boy can helpafter all, I taught him how to cook.
You taught the boy to cook? Mark exclaimed.
Indeed. He spends all day glued to his phone and never lifts a finger. Emily shrugged.
Youre out of your mind! Hes a boy, not a chef. Cooking isnt a mans job, its a well, a womans thing! Mark huffed, his irritation flaring. Fine, well pop over to my parents then. If you cant be bothered with us, well see you tomorrow night.
And with that, Mark and his mother, Dorothy, hurried off to her parents house.
Emily, still feeling faint, found the thermometer, turned on the kettle and stared into the steam.
Why does this happen? When did the moment slip by when my husband could have simply made tea for both of us, looked after each other when one was ill? When did all the domestic chores suddenly become my sole responsibility?
The thermometer beeped: 39.2°C. She swallowed her pills and tried to drift back to sleep.
A few minutes later the phone rang. It was her mother, Margaret.
Emily, why arent you answering? Im used to you calling in the morning. Ive been worrying.
Mum, Im a bit under the weather. Took my meds and fell back asleep.
A bit? And wheres Mark? Off at his mums again? Margaret grumbled.
Weve gone to avoid catching anything, Emily replied weakly.
Do you really believe that? Avoid catching anything Just dont overwork yourself, or youll have to wash the dishes yourself! Margaret snapped.
Come on, Mum Emily tried to protest, but the old woman wasnt having it.
Dont lecture me! I have the right to be angry. I gave you away in marriage, not into slavery! Did you check your temperature?
Yes, it was high this morning. A bit better now, but Im still exhausted.
Stay in bed! Dad will pick you up soon. Ill get you on your feet. Its no good lying there alone. Margaret ended the call.
Emily quietly got up, washed her face, packed her laptop and a few essentials, and waited for her father.
When he arrived, his eyes widened as he saw her.
Whats wrong, dad? Are you having a heart attack? Emily gasped.
Its you! I thought Id finally found peace. He snatched her bag, chuckling. I was sure Id died of shock. You look as pale as a ghost!
Dad, stop scaring us. Emily smiled weakly. Shall we get going?
Lets. Hold on tight, or the wind will whisk you away. You look gaunt, dearlike a bird starved of breadcrumbs. No, love, youre not a slave; youre a daughter, and youve earned a break.
Emily didnt argue; she was too tired.
The parents home was warm, tasty, and oddly cheerful. Dorothy, ever the matriarch, took Emilys side and, by evening, she felt a little better.
She called Mark to let him know she wasnt at home. His reply was lazily cheerful:
What? I cant bring you any meds. Ive had a few pints with dad. Its Saturday, were watching the match. He handed the phone to his mother.
Emily! Youre a womandont just lounge about while your man goes hungry! What matters in a family? Men need to be fed, kept warm, and left alone! scolded Ksenia, the neighbour who loved gossip.
Dorothy, overhearing, snatched the handset.
My dear daughterinlaw! A manweak? Sick? Or what does he have to be for you to stay warm and not bother you? she fumed.
Why weak? Husbandinlaw! Men are all the same, Ksenia muttered, not expecting a retort. Mark, hows it going?
Just lifting my daughterinlaw out of bed. A real man cant look after his wifehe cant even buy medicine, only a beer! Dorothy added, still fuming. The girls sick, and hes happy as a clam.
Enough nonsense. The boys went off so they wouldnt bother Emily. Ksenia huffed. Theres a lad, Zaza, wholl bring her meds. Shes healthy, just lazy. Forgot about her men! Anyway, Ill take care of my boys. Your daughters a cuckoo!
Dorothy stared at the silent phone.
Sweetie, do you really need this? Youre still young! This is over the top.
Then Marks message buzzed:
Emily, can you spot me some cash? Im short until payday. I splurged on Tommys stuff and had to pay for his school fees myself!
Emilys eyes widened.
Did I pay all the rent and groceries this month? she texted back, stunned.
Exactly. The flats yours, isnt it? Send the money, will you? Im heading to the shops.
No money leftI spent it on meds. she typed, halflying.
What do you mean no money? Your illness is costing us a fortune! Ask your parents.
Ask your mum, Emily replied, incredulous.
Your mother wont understand why I spent my salary on whatever. Mark grumbled.
I dont get it either. Emily muttered.
Im a grown man. Ive got my own wants and expenses. I dont have to report to you or your mum! Im at the shopjust send the cash!
I wont send it! Mark snapped.
He replied with a tirade calling her greedy, ungrateful, a bad mother and wife. Finally, Emily turned to her own mother:
No, Mum, I dont need it any more.
All evening and night, Mark and Dorothy volleyed angry texts at Emily. She simply muted the notifications.
On Sunday morning, as the family sat down to breakfast, Mark called again:
Emily, were staying at my mums for now. She actually loves and cares for us, unlike you. She warned me not to rush into marriageshe said who knows what kind of mother shell become. I ignored that. Youre no mother, you cuckoo!
Great, said Ian, Marks brother, looking over the table. What do you think, love?
Emily stared at the fluffy scrambled eggs with a sprig of parsley and sighed, All I see is divorce.
How hard it was!
Fine! Im off. Ill be back later. Might not make it for lunch, their father announced, heading out.
Emily, darling, take your meds, turn off the phone and get some rest. You need to recover. their mother said gently.
And thats exactly what she did. It was Sunday, and she had work the next dayso a bit more sleep wouldnt hurt.
By lunchtime Emily woke up, feeling a little stronger. Her father arrived with a fresh set of keys.
Whats this? You can toss these if you like! he said, handing her the bundle.
What? Emily blinked.
Ive changed the locks on your flat, gathered Marks and Tommys things and taken them to the inlaws. Youll stay here for a while, alright? And stay off the phonesafer that way.
In the kitchen, her mother hummed happily. Theyd always dreamed of this arrangement, but theyd let Emily figure it out herself.
Emily filed for divorce.
Shed been bombarded with insults: idiot, familybreaker, cuckoo, ungrateful mother, and worse. Yet, for the first time in ages, she felt a strange, liberating happiness.
The divorce went through quicklyno children, no shared assets. A year after the wedding, Mark decided it was cheaper to take his son than to pay child support. His exwife didnt mind. He simply forgot to ask Emily for any advice, nor to give her a headsup. He didnt care that Emily and Tommy never got along and that the boy was making Emilys life miserable. He overlooked the fact that a child needs clothes, school fees, a proper homenone of which he remembered, not even that the flat hed moved his son into belonged to Emily.
In the end, the court set things straightthough Mark had tried to orchestrate it his way. He now lives with his mum, who monitors his spending and teaches him household chores. After all, three men are harder to manage than one!
Emily, meanwhile, bought herself a reliable car so she wouldnt be stuck in bad weather again. At twentyseven, after a tough divorce, she asked herself what to do next.
Answer? Love herself.
Adapted from Galina Sergeyevna.
