Do you really expect me to cook for your mother every single day? the woman snapped.
How long is this supposed to go on? Amélie slammed the pan onto the stove. You think I was hired as a maid for your mother? Two months without a single day off! She gripped the wooden spatula, her knuckles turning white under the strain. An old resentment rang in her voice.
Julien froze in the kitchen doorway, unsure whether to step inside. His wife stood over the stove, where meat pattiesthe favorite dish of his mothersizzled. The scent of grilled meat and onions made his throat tighten, or perhaps it was the heaviness of the argument about to unfold.
Amélie, why are you getting so worked up? he said gently, trying to calm her. Mom just prefers homecooked meals. She cant eat processed food, you knowthe provisions.
I know! Amélie slammed the spatula onto the counter. I know everythingher hypertension, her diet, her balanced meals. But why must I circle around here every night like a hamster on a wheel? I have a job too!
Outside, the October day faded slowly. Shadows from an old apple tree, its branches leaning through the kitchen window, danced on the walls, silent witnesses to their dispute. Julien glanced at the clockhis mother would be back from her walk soon.
Maybe we should hire a housekeeper? he ventured, uneasy, aware that Amélie hated the idea of strangers in their home.
Amélie’s smile was bitter. Sure, and how will we pay her? With the rent savings? You know how much Moms medication costs.
She turned back to the stove, wiping away fresh tears with a kitchen towel. Three months earlier, when Marie moved in after a minor stroke, Amélie had been the one to push for her stay. She had never imagined how upheaved their lives would become.
The front door slammed down the hall. Light footsteps announced Maries return from her evening stroll. Amélie quickly dabbed her eyes with a towel and began plating the meat patties. Julien remained rooted in the doorway, clueless about what to say or do.
A heavy silence settled, broken only by the clink of dishes and the faint sizzle of the cooling pan.
Mom, how was your walk? Julien hurried into the hallway, grateful for any diversion from the tense conversation with his wife. Lately he found himself avoiding conflicts, burying himself in work, late returns, and endless urgent errands.
Marie stood before the hallway mirror, slowly unwinding a wool scarfa gift from her nowabsent husband. Her oncenimble fingers, used to sewing, now struggled with a simple knot. The tremor that followed the stroke had worsened each day.
Oh, it was lovely, my little Julien, she tried to smile, though it came out more as a grimace. The leaves were gathering in the park. Remember how you loved jumping into them as a child? Id always scold you, Stop, youll catch a cold! and youd laugh
She leaned against the wall, closed her eyes. The pallor of her face and the sweat on her forehead did not escape her sons watchful gaze.
I feel my blood pressure acting up, Marie admitted. I may have walked too much today.
Ill get your medication, Amélie called from the kitchen. Despite her anger, she took Maries health seriouslyperhaps years working in a clinic had taught her the dangers of neglect.
Dont rush, Amélie, Marie said, sinking heavily onto a bench and pulling a pill blister from her coat pocket. Im now playing spycarrying everything with me. Here are my assistants
Her eyes lingered on an old wedding photo hanging on the wallher and her husband on their wedding day. It seemed a lifetime away. She never imagined becoming a burden to her own son in his final years.
Julien scrambled for a glass of water, almost knocking over a vase. He tried to meet Amélies gaze as he passed, but she turned deliberately toward the stove where the patties still crackled. The smell of grilled meat made him nauseousshe hadnt eaten all day, juggling work, errands, and cooking.
Whats for dinner? Marie sniffed as she entered the kitchen. More patties? Amélie, why do you push yourself so hard? A simple soup would have been enough
Its fine, Mom, Amélie thrust a fork into a patty, forcing it to scrape the pans bottom. You like them, I remember.
Her tone was so sharp that Marie flinched, stopping at the kitchen threshold. In twenty years of watching her sons marriage, Marie had learned to detect the slightest tension in Amélies voice, and tonight it rang like a tightened string.
The elderly woman shuffled slowly to the table, leaning on her sons arm. She sat, spreading her napkin on her lapa habit from her teaching days. Julien placed her plate, a glass of water, and checked the chairs position.
You know Amélie began, then stopped as Maries face grew pale. Her temples throbbed with words she held back. Lets just have dinner.
A heavy hush fell over the table. Only cutlery clinked against plates, and the wall clockan heirloom from Juliens grandmotherticked away the seconds of the uncomfortable silence. Marie barely touched her food, casting sideways glances at her son and daughterinlaw.
In recent weeks she had often caught similar looks, overheard fragments of conversations, noticed how the atmosphere shifted whenever she entered a room.
Maybe I shouldnt have agreed to move in she thought bitterly. Out loud she managed only, The patties are delicious, Amélie. Almost like the ones my mother used to make
I cant take it anymore, Amélie suddenly whispered, dropping her fork. Im done.
The clocks ticking grew deafening. Marie froze, spoon a few centimeters from her mouth, while Julien paled, realizing his deepest fear was materializinga fear that had haunted him for weeks.
Every day its the same, Amélies voice steadied with each word. I wake at six, Im at work by eight. At noon I run to the pharmacy for meds, after workgroceries, cooking, cleaning When will I live? When can I rest?
My dear Marie started.
Im not your daughter! Amélie sprang up, her chair thudding against the wall. You have a son; let him cook. Im exhausted! Do you understand? Exhausted!
Julien made a tentative gesture. Amélie, but
What did I say thats so terrible? she shouted, almost laughing. Its true! Youre always buried in work, and Im supposed to tear myself between the hospital and the house? Your mother is your responsibility!
Marie gently set down her spoon, her hands trembling more than usual. Im just a burden she whispered. You know, Amélie, I understand. Do you think I dont see how tired you are? How angry? I pray every night for the strength to manage on my own
Mama, stop, Julien tried to wrap his arms around her, but she slipped away gently.
No, son, let me finish, Marie straightened, as if addressing a rowdy class. I taught for forty years. Do you know what I learned? To listen. And I listen, Amélie, when you cry in the bathroom. I see your hands shake at night from fatigue
Amélie stood frozen by the stove, her fingers white from gripping the counter. Small tears streamed down her cheeks.
I was young once, too, Marie continued. I dreamed of my own life. Then my motherinlaw fell ill I cared for her ten years. Each day merged into a haze of work, cooking, injections, treatments. My husband at work, my son small I thought I was losing my mind.
Mama, why are you saying this? Julien murmured, bewildered, his gaze shifting between his mother and his wife.
Because youre wrong, son, Marie rose from the table. Youre wrong to dump everything on Amélie. Tomorrow Ill call social services for a caregiver
How will we pay her? Amélie asked, not turning.
Ill give my pension. We can even rent out the flatmore income, thats all.
Julien watched the two most important women in his life, feeling his world turn upside down. All these years hed hidden behind his job, pretending nothing had changed
No, he stood, straightening his shoulders. No caregiver. And we wont rent the flat.
But how Marie began.
Tomorrow Ill ask my boss to let me work remotely three days a week, Julien declared firmly. Well take turns cooking. Mama, could you teach me your famous patties?
Marie blinked, surprised. Of course, my son but will you manage?
Men can cook too, Amélie managed a smile for the first time that night. But watch out, your son loves to experiment. Remember his currybortsch?
At least it was original! Julien grinned, feeling the tension melt away.
I can handle the cleaning, Marie offered suddenly. Vacuuming is tough, but dusting, tidying, even ironingIve done it all my life
Mama, Amélie interrupted, finally facing the table. You dont have to do that
I want to! Maries eyes sparkled with that teachers gleam again. Do you think its easy to just sit idle all day? I just watch TV and stare out the window. At least it gives me purpose.
She burst into laughter, covering her mouth. Forgive me, children I saw how exhausted you were and said nothing. I was afraid to speak too much.
Forgive me too, Amélie surprised herself by kneeling beside her motherinlaws chair, resting her head on her knees as she once did with her own mother. I said horrible things I was angry.
Marie stroked Amélies hair, tears sliding down her cheeks. Its settled then. Julien will cook on Tuesdays and Thursdays
And every other Saturday, he added.
And every other Saturday, Marie agreed. Ill take care of the cleaning. And you, dear, she lifted Amélies chin, never hesitate to speak when things get hard. Were a family.
The wall clock ticked on, the patties cooled on the table, and outside the last October light faded slowly. For the first time in months, genuine warmth returned to the house.
Do You Honestly Think I’m Going to Cook for Your Mum Every Day?
