“No, darling, Im not a carer!” Emily hissed through clenched teeth. “With all due respect to Margaret, shes not my mother, and she has her own childrenthree of them!”
“Emily, come on,” Gerald replied, taken aback. “We wont manage Mums care if we approach it like this. The doctor said a lot depends on us now.”
“Exactlyon *you*,” Emily shot back. “Not me!”
Emily listened uneasily to Geralds voice as he spoke on the phone with his sister. She stood in the kitchen chopping salad while he paced the living room. Something about his tone unsettled herthough perhaps she was overthinking it?
No, her instincts hadnt misled her. Moments later, Gerald appeared in the doorway, pale and trembling.
“Whats wrong, love?” Emily gasped, rushing to him.
“Mums had a turn,” he said hoarsely. “Theyve taken her to the hospitalmight need surgery. Thats what Charlotte said, anyway. Shes in such a state, barely making sense.”
“I understand,” Emily murmured, remembering how terrified shed been last year when her own mother had heart trouble. Shed been prescribed bed rest, and Emily and her sister had taken turns caring for her.
She offered to drive Gerald to the hospitalhe was too shaken to get behind the wheelbut he refused. His sister would pick him up tomorrow, he said, and theyd go together.
Margaret spent the next week under hospital care, visited by Gerald, his sister Charlotte, and his brother Thomas with his wife, Rebecca.
Emily did her partcooking meals. Margaret couldnt stomach hospital food and asked for homemade broth, steamed chicken cutlets, and fresh salads. After work, Emily stopped by the market for the ripest tomatoes.
She sometimes accompanied Gerald to the hospital but never crowded the ward. There were other patients, after all.
“Mums being discharged soon,” Gerald announced one evening. “We can breathe easy now.”
“Thank goodness the worst is over,” Emily sighed. “But shell need long-term care. Someone has to look after her.”
“That wont be a problem,” Gerald shrugged. “I told Charlotte you could cook in advance, pop round before work, maybe stay a couple of hours after. Bathing, feeding, medsyoull figure it out.”
He said it so casually Emily almost missed the implication. Only after a pause did she realise hed just assigned her his mothers full care.
“Gerald,” she said slowly, “I *work*. This isnt a weekly visitshell need someone daily. At least twice!”
“Of course I know that!” Gerald replied cheerfully, as if pleased with his own cleverness.
Emily stood abruptly and began pacing. She hated conflict, but she wouldnt be walked over.
“Last year, when my mum was ill,” she reminded him, “you remember how Helen and I took shiftscooking, washing her, massages. It was exhausting!”
“I know, love,” Gerald said warmly. “Thats why Im sure youll manage. I told Charlotte and Thomasmy wifes a treasure, practically a professional carer!”
The “compliment” enraged her. So this was how he saw her? And his siblings had happily agreed?
“No, Gerald, I am *not* a carer!” she snapped. “Margaret isnt my mothershe has three children! *You*, Charlotte, and Thomas. And Thomas has a wife!”
“Emily, whats got into you?” Gerald frowned. “We wont manage if were selfish about this. The doctor said”
“that it depends on *you*,” Emily cut in. “Not me!”
Gerald shook his head. “I never thought my own wife could be so heartless. Charlottes got a daughterhomework, dinner, work. Thomas and Rebecca have kids too.”
“So do I,” Emily said pointedly. “In case youve forgotten, we have a son.”
Gerald scowled but didnt argue further. Hed hoped to shame her into submission, reminding her his mother couldnt stomach instant noodleswho else would make her fresh chicken soup? Whod cook her porridge?
“Charlotte and Rebecca can manage soup and porridge just fine,” Emily said. “Ill even print out recipes for you and Thomas.”
Furious, she remembered how she and Helen had cared for their mother without a second thought. No arguments, no bargainingjust love. Why couldnt Geralds family do the same?
After a pointless back-and-forth, Gerald gave up. “Weve already discussed this with Thomas and Charlotte,” he muttered. “No objectionsuntil you ruined everything!”
“You didnt discuss it with *me*,” Emily said coldly.
He scoffed. “Charlottes got a beach trip plannedshe wont follow this schedule.”
“Then shell have to cancel,” Emily said. “This isnt a favourits her mother.”
Gerald was stunned. The schedule shed draftedneat, colour-codedassigned him daily visits. No more of his mothers pies or stews waiting for him. No cosy evenings in Dads old armchair.
He wanted to argue, but the truth glared back: the schedule was fair.
Emily shared it in a family group chat. Chaos erupted.
“I wont dance to your tune!” Charlotte spat. “Ive got a child, a job, plans! Why am I even on this list?”
“Dance to your own, then,” Emily replied. “But this is the only way your mother gets cared for. Dont like it? Do it yourselves. Here are the diet recipes.”
The backlash was vicious. Gerald even threatened divorce, claiming hed never expected such cruelty.
Emily only sighed. “Fine.”
The next day, Margaret came home, and reality hit: someone had to cook that broth. Gerald fell silent.
The family cursed Emilys schedule, Charlotte swore shed never speak to her again. But in refusing fairness, theyd only hurt themselves.
Emilys hands itched to helpbut she held firm. Give an inch, and theyd take a mile.
Was she right? Whos to blame? Share your thoughts below.
