Hey love, you wont believe the chaos that unfolded at my place today. I was panfrying some mince patties when the doorbell rang. I slipped out of the kitchen to answer it.
My mum, its for me, my daughter Emily called from the hallway, stopping me halfway. Ill get it.
Alright, I didnt hear you I replied, a little confused.
What are you waiting for? Keep cooking your patties, Emily snapped, glancing back at me from the doorway.
Why your patties? I bought the minced meat myself I protested.
Mum, shut the door, she rolled her eyes.
Fine, Ill close it later, I muttered, retreating back to the kitchen and pulling the gas knob off the hob. After a moment I slipped out of my apron and left the kitchen.
In the hallway Emily was pulling on her coat. Standing nearby was Ian, a friend of my daughters, eyes glued to her.
Hey Ian, where are you off to? Fancy joining us for dinner? I asked.
Hello, Ian smiled, looking over at Emily.
Were in a rush, she said, not even glancing at me.
Maybe youd like to stay for a bite? Ive got everything ready, I offered again.
Ian looked a bit taken aback.
No! Emily snapped. Lets go. She grabbed Ians arm, swung the door open, and shouted, Mum, could you shut it?
I went to the door, but left it ajar, listening to the voices drifting from the street.
Why are you so harsh with her? Smells delicious, I wouldnt mind a patty, someone called from the square.
Lets hit the pub for a snack. Im fed up with her patties, Emily muttered.
They cant get old! I love your mums patties, I could eat them every day, Ian replied.
I couldnt make out what Emily said back. The voices on the staircase faded away.
I finally shut the door, went back into the living room where Brian was glued to the telly.
Brian, lets have dinner while its still hot, I called.
Right, lets go. He rose, shuffled past me, and plonked himself at the table.
What are we having? he asked, impatient.
Rice with patties and a salad, I said, lifting the skillet.
You know I never eat fried patties, he grumbled.
I added a splash of water, theyre practically steamed, I replied, holding the lid.
Fine, but thats the last time, he sighed.
At our age you shouldnt be trying to lose weight, I retorted, placing a plate of rice and patties in front of him.
What age is that? Im only fiftyseven. This is the prime of a mans life, he chuckled, spearing a patty and taking a bite.
Are you all conspiring against me? Emily ran off, youre playing the cheeky one. I might just stop cooking and see how you both manage without me. Think a restaurants better? I snapped.
Then dont cook. You could use a trim yourselfwont fit through the door much longer, Brian finished his patty and jabbed at another.
Excuse me? Ive been busting my head over everything, and now youre suddenly watching your figure? Bought new jeans, a leather jacket, a baseball cap, even shaved my head to hide the balding. Who are you trying to impress? Definitely not me. Im still chubby. Who am I supposed to compare myself to? I cried, feeling the sting.
Let me eat in peace, he muttered, poking the rice with his fork but never bringing it to his mouth. Pass the ketchup, he demanded.
I grabbed the ketchup from the fridge, slammed the jar on the table, and walked out of the kitchen. My plate stayed untouched.
I shut myself in my daughters room, flopped onto the sofa, and tears welled up.
I cook, I try my best, and its never enough. I do everything for them, and they give me nothing back. Brians out there flirting, Im just the fat one. Emily looks at me like Im staff. If I retire, can they just forget about me? Id work if they didnt cut my hours. They say we dont need experienced people, give the jobs to the youngsters. What can the youngsters possibly do?
I got up early, even though I wasnt working, just to make breakfast. The whole day I was on my feet, never a moment to sit. It felt like my own fault, spoiling everything. Then they all piled on my neck and shoved off.
Youre trying, youre trying, but they I do everything for them and get no thankyou. My husbands getting younger, looking elsewhere. Im just the big one to him. My daughter treats me like a servant.
I stared at the mirror on the wardrobe door, took a good look. Sure, Ive put on a few pounds, but Im not that big. The wrinkles are softer on my round cheeks. Ive always loved a good meal. I cook well, but they dont seem to care. When I worked, Id style my hair, curl it. Now I just pin it back so it doesnt get in the way. Its easier. Do I really need high heels and a fancy hairdo? Maybe I should lose a bit, maybe colour my hair.
The next morning I stayed in bed a little longer, pretending to be asleep. Im retired, I can sleep in a bit. Let them make their own breakfast.
The alarm finally buzzed. I shifted and faced the wall.
Whats wrong, feeling ill? Brian asked, no hint of sympathy.
Yeah, I muttered, burying my face in the duvet.
Mom, are you sick? Emily popped into the room.
Yeah, just have breakfast yourselves, I croaked from under the covers.
Emily huffed and walked to the kitchen. Soon I heard the kettle whistle, the fridge door slam, muffled voices of Emily and Brian. I stayed under the duvet, playing the sick role all the way through.
Brian wandered in, smelling of the pricey cologne Id bought him years ago. He and Emily left one after the other. The house fell silent. I pulled the duvet back, closed my eyes, and drifted off.
An hour later I woke, stretched, and shuffled to the kitchen. Dirty mugs sat in the sink, crumbs littered the table. I thought about tidying up, then decided, Im not a servant. I headed to the shower, then rang up an old school friend.
Emma! Its been ages, love. How are you? Still enjoying retirement? she chirped.
I told her I missed getting out, that I hadnt visited my parents graves in ages, and wondered if I could crash at her place.
Of course, come over! When are you arriving? she asked.
Right now, Im heading to the station, I replied.
Oh dear, Ill start the pies then, she laughed.
I packed a small bag for a few days, swept the crumbs off the table, left a note that Id be at Emmas and didnt know when Id be back.
On the way to the station I hesitated. Maybe theyll manage without me, I thought. Am I being too bold? I decided, If there are no tickets, Ill go home. The ticket office was busy, a queue snaked around the bus doors. I sighed and slipped in at the back.
Emma greeted me with a hug, and we sipped tea with warm pies, chatting away.
Good you made it! Now tell me everything, she urged.
I poured out the whole mess. She nodded, Right, let them have a taste of reality. Turn off your phone.
Is that too extreme? I asked.
Perfect, she said. Tomorrow well hit the salon, give you a fresh look. Valerie works there remember her from school? Shes booked solid now, but well get you in. Well shop, turn you into a knockout. Let your husband bite his nails.
That night I tossed and turned, wondering, Did they take offense? Are they happy?
At the salon Valerie welcomed me, settled me into a chair. While my hair was being coloured, she tweaked my brows and gave me a cut. I almost fell asleep at the mirror. She insisted on full makeup; I wanted to quit, but Emma coaxed me to see it through.
When I finally looked up, I barely recognised the woman staring back younger, striking. Valerie was already arranging a manicure. No more for today, I cant take any more, I begged.
Alright, well book you for eightoclock tomorrow. Dont be late, or the rest will be waiting, she warned.
Emma laughed as we left, Look at you now! Who would have guessed? She nudged me toward the shopping centre.
Id rather wait for another day, I suggested.
No, lets go. With that hair and that outfit, youll turn heads. Beauty takes sacrifice, Emma teased, hauling me into the mall.
I emerged in loosefit trousers, a light cardigan, and a soft beige sweater, feeling oddly satisfied despite the fatigue.
In my hands were bags with a new dress, a sleek jacket, and a box of shoes. I felt younger, more confident, finally looking after myself after so long. Thanks to Emma, Id finally given myself a chance.
Outside Emmas house a tall gentleman with stark white hair and a neatly trimmed beard approached.
Hello, ladies, he said, admiring me. You havent changed a bit still looks stunning.
I stared at Emma, bewildered.
You dont recognise him? Thats Paul Jones, Emma whispered.
Paul? I asked.
Yes, he confirmed, smiling. Hed been a lanky, unremarkable kid at school, now a solid, silverhaired man.
Emma invited us back, Come over, lets toast to your makeover. Weve got a bottle of wine.
We three sat at the kitchen table, wine in hand, reminiscing about school. I blushed, half from the wine, half from the attention.
Hes still into you, Emma, she said when Paul left.
Stop it, its been years, I muttered.
You look the kind of woman anyone could fall for again, Emma assured.
Does he still live around here? I asked, changing the subject.
No, hes a retired colonel, left the army years ago. Came back two years back after a serious injury. His wife left, but hes on his feet now, though he limps a bit. Take your time, think it over, Emma advised.
Im married, you know, I snapped.
Later that night I decided to head home, but Emma wouldnt let me leave.
Just arrived and youre off already? Stay a week, have some fun. Nothing will happen to you. Live a bit. She reminded me that Paul had tickets to the theatre. When was the last time you went?
The youth theatre Christmas show with Emma, I replied.
Right, lets give that new dress a spin, she teased.
A few days later, my phone finally buzzed.
Mum, where are you? Dads in hospital! Come quickly, shouted Svetlana.
My heart raced. I rushed to get ready, and Paul drove me to the station.
Anna, Im here if you need anything, he said.
Thanks, Paul. I called Svetlana on the bus. She told me how shocked she was by my sudden disappearance. Hes been cheating, Ive seen him slipping out of the neighbours flat, she whispered. He didnt even stay over when you vanished. Yesterday his other wifes husband showed up, a fight broke out, he broke two ribs, had a brain bleed, but the ambulance got him in time.
I listened, stunned, and realised I didnt want to run away. By evening I was home, though the hospital was now too late to visit.
Svetlana, you sound different. I barely recognise you, she said, more respectful than ever, staying by my side all night.
I was scared youd never come back, maybe find someone else, I confessed.
I found no one. I just wanted to teach you a lesson. You stopped caring for yourself, turned into an old lady. Hell get jealous, will you forgive him? she jabbed.
I looked around the room, grateful for the familiar walls, the warmth of home.
Morning came, I brewed a chicken broth and headed to the hospital. Brian looked older, his beard now silver. Seeing me, he broke down, apologised, and I fed him a spoonful of broth.
Two weeks later Brian left the hospital. As we stepped out of the taxi, a couple passed by, and Brian flinched. The woman turned away, and I realised she was my rival a slim, redhaired youngster. Brian slumped, trying to hide his embarrassment.
Are you staying? he asked at home.
Am I not thin enough? I havent lost weight, I replied cheekily.
Im sorry, I was a fool. Can you fry the patties again? Ive missed your cooking, he pleaded.
I whipped up the mince patties, and the smell filled the kitchen.
Smells amazing! shouted Svetlana, back from university.
We all sat together, just like the old days when she was still at school, Brian never critiqued my food, ate everything and praised me. I was ready to spend hours at the stove just to please him.
Looking at my family, I felt grateful they were all alive, mostly healthy, and that I still mattered.
Life isnt always smooth, especially as we get older. The body changes, but the spirit can stay young. Its a tough adjustment, but we try to hold on to the strength we once had.
Everyone learns their lesson, and the important thing is we stick together. After all, you cant change the horse youre riding, but you can still enjoy the ride.
Good wife, cosy home what more does a person need to face old age?
