Who will cook for us if you leave?
What are you doing? Where are you going? And who will make our dinner? his husband murmured, watching Claire after a clash with her motherinlaw.
Claire stared out the window at a drab, gray sky despite early spring. In their small northern town, sunshine was a rarity, which probably explained why the locals often seemed sour and unfriendly.
She realized she was smiling less and less. The permanent crease on her forehead made her look ten years older.
Mom! Im going out, her daughter Chloé called.
Yes, yes, Claire replied absentmindedly.
What? Give me some money.
Are walks no longer free? she sighed.
Mom! Why are you asking me that? Chloé snapped. My friends are waiting, hurry up! Why so little?
Thats enough for an icecream.
Such a cheapskate, Chloé retorted, slamming the door without hearing her mothers answer.
What a story Claire recalled the sweet little girl Chloé had been before puberty.
Claire, Im hungry! Is it ready? Thierry, her husband, snapped.
Its on the table, she said indifferently.
Could you serve it to me?
Claire nearly knocked the pot over. How bold
Well eat in the kitchen, Thierry. If youre hungry, eat. Otherwise do whatever you want, she replied, sitting alone at the table.
Fifteen minutes later Thierry appeared in the kitchen.
Its cold yuck.
You should have come earlier.
I told you! No tenderness, no effort for me! You know I watch football! Thierry grumbled while stuffing chicken into the oven. Not very good.
Claire rolled her eyes. Her husband had become obsessed with footballParis, accessories, pricey ticketsdespite never having shown any interest in sports before.
Without sitting down, Thierry grabbed a beer, some chips, and returned to the TV. Claire was left to clear the dishes. She had cooked for nothing; nobody appreciated her effort.
She was exhausted after her shift as head nurse at the hospital. Every day she dealt with grumpy, sick patients, endured work stress, and then faced the same draining energy at home with the endless household chores.
Is there any left? Thierry searched the fridge for another drink. Why isnt there any?
You drank it all! Do I have to do the shopping for you too? Have some decency, Thierry! Claire snapped.
Youre too sensitive he muttered, slamming the fridge door and heading out to stock up before the next match.
Claire went to bed, knowing a tough day lay ahead. Sleep wouldnt come; she worried about Chloé. Where was she? With whom?
It was already pitch dark and Chloé still hadnt returned. Claire dared not call, fearing a rebuke.
Youre humiliating me in front of my friends! Stop harassing me! Chloé shouted over the phone. After that, Claire stopped calling, consoling herself that her daughter had just turned eighteen. She didnt want to work or study; shed finished school and taken a break to find herself.
Halfasleep, Claire heard her husbands jubilant shouts, likely after a goal, followed by loud chatter with a neighbor who had shown up unannounced. The neighbor stayed with his partner to support their team. Later, Chloé came home, rummaged noisily for food, and went to bed. When everything finally quieted, just as Claire was about to collapse, the cat began meowing for its dinner.
Is there anyone in this house who can feed the cat besides me? exasperated and at her wits end, Claire got up, hoping someone would listen. Her daughter, earbuds in, made a mocking gesture, while Thierry was already snoring in front of the TV, a can in his hand.
Ive had enough really enough! Claire thought.
The next morning the phone rang; it was her motherinlaw.
Claire, dear, remember we have to plant the seedlings? And we need to go to the countryside to do some cleaning
Yes, I know, Claire sighed.
So tomorrow we go.
She spent her only day off in the country under her motherinlaws stern gaze.
No, hold the broom like that! the woman commanded from a bench.
Im almost fifty, Marthe, I think I know how to sweep Claire dared reply.
Oh, if only Thierry were here
Where is your Thierry? Why didnt he come help his own mother out in the country? Why did we spend three hours on the bus? And you keep talking about Thierry, Thierry
Hes tired.
And me? You think Im not?
That was the flashpoint. Claire regretted not staying silent. Marthe was a talkative woman who practiced onesided justice, never on Claires side. All her life Marthe had idolized Thierry and treated Claire like a workhorse she tolerated only out of necessity.
They returned by bus, each on their own. The following day Marthe complained to her son, and he exploded.
How dare you speak to my mother that way? Thierry barked.
Because without her
Without her what? Claire crossed her arms, realizing she no longer wanted to accept such treatment.
Well, youd still be working at the dispensary! he shot back, remembering that Marthe had helped Claire land a position at the regional hospital. The salary was higher but came with stress and gray hairs. Claire had often regretted leaving the quiet dispensary for that stressful hospital.
What are you doing here? Thierry interrupted, seeing what Claire was preparing.
What Claire had managed to do, Thierry could not even imagine!
Who’s Going to Cook for Us If You Leave?
