A week on her own would soften her, make her as pliant as silk. Yet when he saw what had happened during that time, he froze the moment he crossed the threshold.
Emma had not been herself lately. Cracks were forming in her marriage to Tom, and she was lost in the agony of it all. It all began with tiny thingshow it always does.
After work, Tom started delivering venomous remarks. His jokes were laced with spite, each word cutting deeper than a slap. Day after day his behaviour soured. Even on his days off he offered her no respite.
Look at you, you look like an old hag! he jabbed, never putting the phone down. Other blokes have wives who look like proper women, and yours is a shriveled prune!
It was true that Emma seemed older than her years. Her job was grueling, leaving its marks on her face. Hearing that from her own husband was a wound that wouldnt close. She earned double his salary, so he had no right to complain.
Tom spent his money however he pleased, never asking anyones opinion. I spend where I like! No kids to save for! he would boast.
Emma endured that too. They got by. They werent legally married, but they lived as a couple and werent in any rush to tie the knot. Still, Toms mother, Mrs. Clarke, kept calling Emma a daughterinlaw, and Emma treated her as a motherinlaw.
Mrs. Clarke was meddlesome and never seemed satisfied. She constantly interfered in the young couples affairs, and most of her nagging fell on Emma.
The pair lived in a detached house on the outskirts of Manchester. Though the town was close, the garden needed constant attention. Emma often begged Tom for help:
I just cant keep upwork starts at dawn and ends at night!
What do I care? Tom snapped. Its your house, youre the lady of the home, whats it to me?
And indeed, in winter the garden lay under drifts until Emma herself fetched a spade. In summer the grass grew up to the windowsills. They had to hire handymen to tidy up, then Emma would finish the work after her shift.
Meanwhile Tom lounged on the sofa, drifting in only to check on the progress once in a while.
Emma forgave many things, but the final straw came when she returned home after a gruelling day. She was bonetired, dragging her feet, and had stopped in a corner shop for a bag that now dug into her palm. She hoped Tom would meet hershe even called, but he didnt answer. Gasping for breath, she heard music spilling from the back garden.
She left the bag by the fence and rushed inside, where a boisterous party was in full swing. Inside, resentment boiled, and Emma decided it was time to unload everything that had built up.
The house was a fullblown rave: blaring music rattled the windows, the table was laden with snacks Emma had prepared earlier to avoid fussing later. Tom, oblivious to his wife, was dancing with a flamboyantly dressed woman who had clearly overindulged.
Without a word, Emma slipped through the crowd and switched off the music.
Tom turned, his eyes clouded. What are you doing? he slurred, swaying.
I was going to ask you that! Whats going on? Whos she?
His partner kept moving as if nothing had changed.
Whats it to you? Tom sneered. Just an old schoolmate I ran into. Is it a crime to have a bit of fun in my own home?
If you remember, you said this was my house and you have no claim over it. So clear her out now, send your guest away, and then well talk!
I wont! Tom tried to stand, but his legs gave way.
Emmas disgust had reached its limit. He was no longer a man to herjust a burden. Living with him out of fear of loneliness? No way.
She seized the woman by the elbow and ushered her toward the gate. Youre done here!
Turning back to Tom, she asked, Are you staying or leaving?
He shrugged, grabbed a salad and a bottle from the table, and staggered toward the door.
Youll manage without me, you drama queen! he shouted as he exited.
Mrs. Clarke wailed, clutching her head. My head is splitting!
Mother, stop shouting! Emma chased me out because I didnt meet her at the door, Tom lied, hoping his mother would side with him.
Whats that about meeting? she asked, bewildered.
Who knows! Shes always finding fault: this, that. Im exhausted at workthink its easy for me? Why should I help in someone elses house?
Exactly! Mrs. Clarke encouraged. Let him sort the property first, then maybe she can ask. Hes a big manlet me meet her! Shes healthy, she should manage!
Tell him I said it! Tom muttered, Shes offended!
Let her stay offended! Dont give in! If she wants marriage, shell endure. Shes not a child any more to be coddled!
What now? Tom asked, head bowed.
Patience, dear, his mother urged. Shell crawl back, begging for you. A week alone will make her realise her mistake. When she returns, demand that she registers the address. Otherwise shell be left without you!
Emmas brother, Mark, listened, nodding to his mothers advice.
Youre right, Mum! I wont put up with her whims. Who does she think she is, ordering me around? Im a grown man, Im the master of my house!
Following his mothers counsel, Tom disappeared, didnt call Emma, and waited exactly a week.
Mrs. Clarke, meanwhile, kept nagging him: Do this, do that. When he tried to object, she reminded him of the oldfashioned disciplinean extra swat with a wooden spoon on his back.
Youre not at your wifes place, youre at your mothers. No work, no dinner! she snapped.
Finally, after seven days, Tom gathered himself. Im going home, Mum! Ill see how shes coping without me. Shell be begging on her knees!
Go, go! Dont give up! Speak clearlyreturn on your own terms!
He left the house with a victorious air, chin up, back straight, steps confident, as if he were about to claim the world.
At the gate, he stepped onto the lawn and froze.
Something was wrong.
He looked around: the garden was immaculate, the grass trimmed like a ruler, windows gleamed, flowerbeds were perfectly edged, pathways were spotlessno sign of neglect. The gate was new, sturdy, not the squeaky old one he remembered.
He fished out his key, but it no longer fit. After a moments hesitation, he knocked hard on the door.
Inside, footsteps halted, then the door swung open.
But it wasnt the Emma he knewno tired eyes, no dark circles. A fresh, smiling woman stood there, eyes bright with mischief.
I thought you were alone, suffering and you at least call me! she cooed.
Why would I? Emma replied with a soft smile, cocking her head.
What why? A husband disappears for a week and you get nothing?
I dont have a husband, she answered calmly.
Where will he come from? she laughed. There was one visitora total flop. No point recalling him.
Toms face flushed crimson. Is that about me?! Youll get a slap and then youll change your tune! I should have raised you better!
He stepped forward, but Emma didnt flinch.
From the doorway a tall man placed a hand on her shoulder and said firmly, Hey, mate, get out. And do it quietly.
Whos that? A lover? Tom stammered. If you chase him away, Ill forgive you and never hit again! he declared, trying to sound generous.
Then time seemed to warp. The world sped up; Tom felt as if demons were chasing him. Behind him, unseen forces propelled him forward.
Emma laughed until tears streamed down her face as her older brother, Mark, chased Tom out of the garden. He shoved him with a couple of sharp kicks, and Tom flew toward the gate.
Mark slammed the gate shut and turned to his sister.
Emma, dont even think about taking that fool back! Honestly, I cant understand how you ever put up with him!
Emma sighed deeply. I was a fool, thats why I endured. I kept hoping hed change.
You cant change a man, you can only cut him off! If you need help around the house, call me, Ill be there. Let him learn hes not welcome.
What if he doesnt get the message?
Then Ill explain it again, Mark winked, stepping inside with his sister.
Inside, the guests who had watched the spectacle through the windows raised their glasses.
Heres to the birthday girl!
To the birthday girl! they shouted, glasses clinking.
Emma smiled, feeling the warm glow of having a caring, strong brother right by her side.
