James, Ive invited the Millers over tonight. Cook something special or order in, but no clichés, please! Nikki said, fastening a silk scarf around her graceful neck, adding the final touches to her powerladies look as she issued the household orders to her husband. Theres a dust layer on the balcony that could hide the laptop soon. Wipe it down.
You stopped working there, so the dusts building up, James replied calmly, stepping out of the kitchen. He wore a kitchen towel slung over his broad shoulder, a freshlyrinsed childs mug in one hand, and a cotton apron over his Tshirt. He moved to plant a kiss on Nikkis cheekher lips already paintedbut she brushed him away, irritated.
Do I have to tend the garden too? Isnt the office enough?
When you worked from home we at least saw you, he said.
Thank goodness thats over! Nikki tossed her handbag strap over her shoulder, puffing herself up. Clean, laundry, vacuum, toygathering, dinner and maybe a thankyou?
Oh, come off it! No need to haul the washing to the river, the dishwasher does the dishes, the robot vac does the floor, and the girls James sighed, halfamused, halfexasperated theyre just kids, after all.
Brilliant, if thats your verdict. Im more useful at the office than at home. Someone has to bring in the money, Nikki said, swinging the front door shut.
Nikkis mornings were scheduled to the minute: up at six, a quick jog (shed only recently taken up running), a brisk contrast shower, breakfast, makeup and hair on the go. The city centre traffic was a nightmare, but she left early enough to avoid any delaysunlike today, when nothing held her back.
A year earlier Jamess mornings were similar, except he skipped the exercise, preferring to linger a few minutes in the warm bed beside his beloved wife. His job was nearby, so traffic was no worry. By six or, at the latest, seven hed be home, helping Nikki with dinner or cleaning up, playing with the girls, tucking them in, and then maybe gathering a stray toy or two from the lounge.
Everything changed a year ago. The younger daughter, Maisie, had been at nursery for two years; the endless sniffles of the adjustment phase were finally behind them. The older, Poppy, was in Year4, walking to and from the neighbouring primary school on her own, even catching the tram to ballet lessonstwo stops, a skill James had taught her.
Nikki was offered a chance to return to her old office job. She thought about it long and hard; home was fine, but she craved the buzz of the workplace, a fast promotion, and the promise of a higher salary. She accepted.
Three months later Nikki got her first promotion, then another, plus a slew of perks and a flexible schedule she loved. Her family barely saw her, but James explained everything. She was a terrible hostess, a stretchedthin mum, and a weary wife, always arriving home late and exhausted.
They sat down and talked it over. James didnt want to nag; he knew there was no talk of her being sacked. They decided to swap roles: Nikki would focus on work without worrying about the house, and James would quit his job and take on the thankless domestic side.
Youll find something remote eventually, Nikki urged at first, almost embarrassed that James would now have to make porridge, hang and iron the laundry, collect Maisie from nursery, drive her to the dentist, and take Poppy to the speech therapist. Youll manage, Im sure.
Youre brilliant, James kissed Nikkis crown. Those were some of their last cosy evenings together. Youre doing great at both work and home, love.
James settled in quickly. The endless texts about which detergent to use, which bin to empty, and what time to pick the girls up stopped. He managed the chores without a sigh; the girls didnt irritate him the way they sometimes did his wife after a long day. Meanwhile, Nikki was thriving at her firm, respected by colleagues and bosses alike, trusted with any task. The family compromise let her shine both as a professional and as a woman. She was on a dizzying upward trajectory.
Youre late, dinners getting cold, the girls greeted her at the hall. She untied the same silk scarf, the one that seemed to cling to her all day, as the endless tasks piled on. Why isnt the Millers coming?
What? she snapped, annoyed.
You said
Nikki stared at James with a haughty, almost contemptuous look, as if he were a subordinate whod overstepped.
I said this weekend!
I thought you meant today.
James, have you forgotten how to listen? she snapped, marching into the living room. Whats this mess? Why havent you changed Maisies shirt? Who pulled the curtain? she rushed to the window, tugging at the fabric. Was there a football in the flat again? Cant you play that outside?
James, Poppy and Maisie stood there, speechless, unsure how to defend themselves.
Is this how you expect guests? Nikki gestured at the chaos.
Their kids will understand; we were just playing, James tried to explain.
Look at you, James! Unshaven, stretchedout Tshirt, blank stare.
James, still in a cheery mood, winked at the girls: Mums joking, shes tired. He tried not to react to Nikkis provocations.
Come to the kitchen, well get you fed. Exhausted? James asked gently.
Yes! This attitude drives me mad! Can you not do what I ask? Even a simpleton could manage. You cant earn a living and still handle the mop and the dirty plates.
A flash of anger crossed Jamess face, but he didnt want a scene in front of the children. Nikki stormed into the kitchen, ready to pick a fight.
You ordered dinner, didnt think of me? I dont like spicy, greasy food. Make me a tea, because Im still hungry.
Make it yourself! James shouted, hoisting Maisie on his back, lifting Poppy like a feather. Were off to brush our teeth, its late, time for bed. Tomorrows nursery and school. By the way, Maisie had a photo shoot last week; the pictures have been on the mantel for two days. You never noticed.
They shuffled off, giggling. In the bathroom, the kids chatter faded into a splash of water. The nursery door shut, and silence settled. Ten minutes later James returned to the kitchen. Nikki was still at the table, sipping resentment instead of hot teaher husband simply didnt get her.
Calm down? he asked. Whats wrong? Work problems?
No! Works fine, its the home
Nikki, youre losing it! James leaned in, his tone stern. Im not your assistant, not your secretary, not your subordinate. I never nitpicked when you were at home, even though there was plenty to complain about, because youre not a robot. If something slipped, its no big deal; well sort it together.
Easy for you to say! I used to juggle the girls and work from home. Now theyre older, they understand. You always say the dishwasher does the dishes, the washing machine does the laundry, we can order foodwhy cant you handle the basics?
Jamess lips trembled with fury, but he held his tongue.
Who have you become? A doormat, a nobody, a housekeeper. Youll end up with a belly of your own.
Nikki!
Dont shout, I see what youre doing.
James snapped, retreated to the bedroom, grabbed a pillow and, as he passed the living room, announced:
Tomorrow Im going back to work! Find yourself another househelper.
Coward! You quit over dirty plates?
James, pillow tucked under his arm, shuffled to the lounge. Nikki fumed, then realised James couldnt return to his old job tomorrownot today, not tomorrow. She didnt chase him that night, apologised in the morning, and finally agreed: he needed time to find a proper replacement to collect Maisie, help around the house, and ferry Poppy. Her wait a bit stretched into three months; the bosslike tone at home became the new normal. She left James a daily chore list, checking each evening; any missed item meant a fresh reprimand for both him and the girls.
Tomorrow youll pick up Maisie yourself, James said one evening, laying down the law.
And you?
I cant. Ive got a night out with the lads.
Unbelievable! Im working until nine or ten, and youre off drinking! I wont let you leave! I have a planning meeting at seven.
Im not asking permission, Im giving notice. Your days are all meetings and crises.
I said no!
James headed for the hall, pulling on his coat.
Where are you going? Nikki shouted down the corridor, clutching the door. I havent given you leave!
Im not your employee or housekeeper. Bye.
He slammed the door; Nikki hurled a string of curses his way. He didnt come home that night. In the morning she sent him a list of tasks via text; he didnt reply. Later, unexpectedly, the nursery teacher called, asking her to pick up Maisiethe last child left behind. Nikki dropped everything, sprinted across town, firing off furious messages to James. He stayed silent. He didnt return that night.
Nikki was beside herself. She wasnt jealous or scared of him leaving; who needed him? People like him never walked out. Yet James kept his silence, and Nikki, unable to have a proper conversation, vented only through angry texts. She had to fend for herself. For two weeks she ran herself ragged, nerves frayed, sleepless nights, a disgruntled boss, nannies turning down jobs one after another while she juggled work and the girls.
She called James, demanding he come home.
Ill collect the girls at the weekend, but Im not coming back.
Are you serious? Youve grown fond of the nostress life? Im not dragging your kids around either
Im filing for divorce, James said, hanging up, knowing Nikki would have nothing sensible left to say.
She was speechless, unable to swallow what shed just heard. The idea that he could be so petty stunned her. The children witnessed their mothers frantic calls, hearing her yell into the phone and call him a nothingperson.
Later, Poppy asked their mum about a mysterious stain on her school blouse.
How did you get that on the cuffs? I cant believe youre still wearing them!
Mom, its just a bit of paint, right? Poppy said, pulling a blue packet from the washing machine: an oxygenbased stain remover. First soak in hot water, then wash at forty degrees. Works every time; my shirts stay spotless.
Youre a wizard, Mum!
He used it on my white sneakers, on the dress stains
I was going to toss it.
Poppy shrugged. Their mother wrestled with the endless list of household minutiae, remembering how many tiny tasks James had taken over so she could focus on her career.
Eventually they split. Nikki set a strict timetable for the girls time with each parent. James still had to pick up Maisie from nursery and drive Poppy where she needed to be, doing it calmly, never hearing the bosss nagging behind his back.
Mum, is dad ever coming back? Poppy asked one day.
Where would he be? Sitting on Mums sofa, waiting for a call? Who needs him besides us? Nikki replied, selfassured.
Poppy walked away, understanding that dad wouldnt return under those circumstances and that mum wasnt about to change.
James went back to his old job, and a year after the divorce he remarriedapparently he needed a new mop, thought Nikki. He often collected the girls for a week or two, which suited her just fine. The only irritating thing was that her exhusband, a washedup nonambitious chap, had managed to land back on his feet quickly. Nikki, successful, attractive, stylish, didnt attract many suitors beyond a few firstdate flings that vanished after the initial coffee. She began to wonder, Whats wrong with me?
