Emma Harper arrived at my flat in the rainsoaked streets of Manchester, eyes bright but already narrowed by disappointment. I live with my sister, Jane, in different townsshes in Leeds, Im here, and her daughter has been dreaming of a place at the university that happens to be in my city. Shell soon move into a hall of residence, but for now shes stayed a few weeks to sort out exams and the paperwork that has to be signed in person. I never bothered with the details; I just knew that a preenrolment visit was normal. Jane had agreed that Emma would crash on my couch until she got everything settled.
We never talked about meals. If her mother kept quiet about food, they would sort it out themselves. I walked into the lounge and found Emma huddled on the sofa, arms wrapped around herself. Whats wrong? I asked. She stared at me, then said in a trembling voice that she had expected a warm lunch, that I would feed her. I snapped back, Im not your personal chef, Emma. Ive got my own schedule to keep. I need to be out in a minute! Call your mum and have her transfer some money to your account. Buy yourself a packet of biscuits, a few rolls, and a cuppa. Speaking of which, the teas gonego fetch a new box. Youre eighteen, not a child!
Jane hadnt spoken to me in ages; she didnt know that once the kids left the nest, my husband vanished to some unknown corner of the world and I threw myself into work. My days are a relentless sprint, my visits home irregular, my energy for housework all but vanished. All I manage is a few hours of sleep, and that feels like a luxury.
Im not about to sacrifice anything for a guest. Its a pleasure, of course, to see Emma. Shes grown, more graceful, but Im no longer the breezy, resourceful Aunt Lucy who could have whipped up a feast for an elephant without a second thought. Let her shop, chop, boil, fry, steambetter yet, let her buy something readymade so she doesnt wreck my stove or my flat. She sulked, simmered, and now broods in silence each day, apparently expecting a full board from me and her mother. Maybe things will settle. Its hard to flip a switch and stop being the convenient, everhelpful aunt after years of keeping the peace with everyone around me. Even now Im still a bit of a peacemaker: I offered a free bed, but without the fullservice element.
I booked an appointment with a therapist, hoping for a gentle way to tell my family that Im not the Swissarmy knife I once was. They need to expect less from me now.
