Emily, theres something I need you to sort out. Mum cant clean the balcony windows herself, and we need a decent grocery list for a week. Can you go today?
Tom Harper slipped into the kitchen in his worn joggers and a crumpled tee, the easygoing aura of a Saturday morning clinging to him. He drifted to the tap, filled a glass, and barely registered his wife. Emily sat at the small table by the window, sipping her coffee slowly. Sunlight danced across the tablecloth in erratic patterns, but her eyes were fixed somewhere inside.
It wasnt the first time shed been asked for such a favour. It started with harmless errands: Emily, could you drop Mum off at the pharmacy? Can you pick up her painkillers? Soon it became regular trips across the city with heavy grocery bags, deepcleaning sessions at her motherinlaws house, and even minor repairs that Mrs. Margaret Blake claimed only a young, spry person could manage. Meanwhile Tom never seemed to turn up for his own mother. He was always busy, tired, or simply unwilling. You have the day off, hed say, and Emily would sigh, load the car, wash, fix, and listen patiently to her motherinlaws complaints about health, prices, neighbours, and how poor Tom always gets the short end of the stick.
Tom, Emilys voice was unusually calm, but a steel certainty underlined every word, enough to make him turn his head. Ive told you this before. Im your wife, not your mothers personal assistant, and certainly not a free housekeeper. If Margaret needs helpespecially the kind that involves climbing to the seventh floor to scrub windowswhy dont you do it yourself? You have a day off, dont you? Or have you forgotten?
Tom blinked, bewildered. Usually these talks ended with Emily conceding after a few persuasive pleas.
Well I thought youd he stammered, frowning. Its not hard! Womens workcleaning windows, buying groceries Youre better at that than I am.
Emilys lip curled, a smile that promised trouble.
Womens work, huh? she echoed sarcastically. So lugging fivekilogram bags of potatoes up to the flat and wiping grimy windows is now exclusively a womans duty? And you get to lounge at home, conserving energy for a cosy spot on the sofa later?
The tension thickened. Tom slammed his glass onto the counter, his face flushing.
Whats your problem this time? I just asked! You know Mums alone, shes getting on, its hard for her! Instead of help, I get a hissy fit!
A hissy fit? Emily raised an eyebrow. You think my refusal to be a slave is a hissy fit? Listen closely.
What else?
Im your wife, not a errandgirl! If your mum needs help, you should be the one to go and lend a hand! Shes your mother, Tom. If she truly struggles, its your duty as a son to assist. Or do you think a son should dump all that on his wife? Im not asking you to help my mother; her problems are mine, and Ill handle them. So, love, grab the list, a cloth, a bucket and head to Mums. Use my gloves if you dont have your own. Ive got my own tasks. No more of these requests will be entertained. Clear?
Tom stared at her as if she were an alien. The familiar order hed relied on was crumbling. Emily had always yielded; now she was cold, decisive, with no room for compromise.
This is disrespectful to my mother! he shouted, stepping forward.
No, Tom. Its respect for yourself. Basic selfrespect. If you cant see that, thats your problem.
She rose, circled the table, and left the kitchen, leaving him alone in the sunspotted room, his comfort shattered and a sudden thought gnawing at him: the world was no longer a snug cocoon.
He followed her into the living room, where Emily sat on a chair with a book, deliberately poised. He halted in the doorway, fists clenched, fury blazing across his face.
So you just decide to bail? he snarled. You think you can ignore my pleas? My mother? Is that what a wife does?
Emily lowered the book slowly.
Do you think its right, Tom, to shift a sons responsibilities onto his wife? she asked, voice even. You talk about your mother but forget shes yours. She has a sonan adult, healthy, with a day off. Why does that son, instead of helping, send his wife in his place while he plans a lazy day on the sofa?
Because it never bothered anyone before! Tom shouted, taking a sudden step into the room. You always helped, and everything was fine! What changed? Did you get a crown, or think youre special?
It changed because I cant do it anymore, Emily replied calmly. No anger, only a deep, longbottled fatigue. Im tired of being the convenient assistant for both of you, not a fullfledged person. Im exhausted when my time, energy and wishes are ignored. You say You always agreed. Have you ever considered the price I paid? How many times did I sacrifice my plans, my rest, even my health, just to please you and your mum?
Tom scoffed, waving his hand as if swatting a fly.
Here we go again, the martyr act! No one forced you. You chose it, so it must have been comfortable for you!
I chose it because I wanted peace in the family, Emily said bitterly. Because I hoped youd recognise how much I did. But you took it for granted, as if I were obliged to serve every relative of yours. And guess what? My own mother never asked you to come and help with windows or the garden, even when she needed a hand. She understands we have our own life. Your mum, however, treats me like a free resource you can summon at any moment.
Dont compare them! Tom roared, his face contorted with rage. My mother always looked out for us! And now, when she asks for help, you act like a selfish witch! Its just selfishness!
Who else will think of me if not I? Emily stared into his eyes, unflinching, only confidence and resolve. You? The man who cant even notice how I look after another round of helping your mum? Or Margaret, who after cleaning starts bragging about the neighbours daughterinlaws pies? No, Tom. This chapter is over. I wont be the doormat you scrub your feet on, hiding behind duty and help to justify exploitation.
The tension surged. Tom felt his control slipping. The authority hed wielded, the right to decide, was crumbling before his eyes. Hed grown accustomed to Emilys softness; this cold, firm woman knocked him off balance.
Youre ungrateful! he gasped. Were here for you, and you you dont value us at all! You dont care about our feelings!
Feelings! Emily laughed, but the sound held no mirth. When was the last time you asked about mine, Tom? When I trudged home after a whole day at your mums and you merely said, All right. You did it? Good job. My needs? My need for rest, for simple human attentionwere those ever considered? No. Its far easier to have a wife who silently does whatever is demanded.
Tom prowled the room like a cornered animal. His usual tactics of accusation and blame fell flat, only fueling his fury.
Fine, he finally panted, breathing heavily. If you wont cooperate, Ill do it my way. Youll hear from my mother soon enough!
He fished out his phone and dialled. Emily sat poised, a thin veil of contempt on her face. She knew this movethe big gun of mum on the line.
A few seconds later Mrs. Margarets voice crackled, irritated.
Tom, youre up early? Im just trying not to get worked up.
Mom, can you believe whats happening? I asked Emily to go to you, clean the windows and pick up groceries, like always. She threw a fit! She says youre my mother, I should go and work, and shes not a runnergirl! Can you imagine?
A heavy silence fell. Emily smirked inwardly; she knew how her mother liked dramatic pauses.
What what did she say about me? Margaret finally asked, feigning surprise.
That youre my mother, not hers, and that I should look after you myself! She says its nonsense and Im shocked! Tom blurted.
Tom, dear, the youth today Margarets tone softened into a patronising sigh. I thought my daughterinlaw would be like family but shes
Hand me the phone, Emily said evenly.
Tom looked at her, triumph flickering.
Afraid? Want to apologise to Mum?
Hand it over, she repeated, her voice now icecold, and Tom, shaken, handed the handset to her, flipping it to speaker.
Good afternoon, Margaret, Emily began, businesslike. I heard your conversation and Id like to clarify.
Emily, love, whats going on with Tom? He looks upset why are you speaking to me like this? Were one family, after all.
Margaret, if you truly need help with physically demanding taskscleaning windows, carrying groceriesyou should ask your son, not his wife, Emily said firmly. He has the day off, hes healthy, and its his duty as a son to look after his mother. I am his wife, not your housekeeper.
Emily, dear, youre the one who runs the house Margaret started, irritation creeping in. Tom is a man; he provides for us
I work too, Margaret, Emily cut in. My day off is just as valuable. I wont provide free regular labour for your household. If you cant manage the cleaning, you could hire a cleaning service. Thats a realistic solution.
A cleaning service?! Margaret sputtered. Let strangers into my home? People will think Ive abandoned my son and daughterinlaw!
Im not concerned about what strangers think, Emily replied, unwavering. I care about my right to a life and rest. If Tom is embarrassed to help his mother, thats his problem, not mine.
Silence hung heavy, broken only by Margarets laboured breathing.
So thats how it is? Margaret finally hissed, her voice stripped of any former softness. You think you can take charge of the house? I wont let that stand. If youre against the family, against order, against respect for elders, Ill come over myself and sort this out. Well have a serious talk, and youll learn how to behave!
She slammed the phone down. Tom shot Emily a victorious look, as if daring her to last any longer. Emily placed the handset on the coffee table, ready.
Forty minutes later a frantic knock rattled the front door, as if the whole entryway were being dragged out. Tom, who had been pacing nervously, rushed to answer. Emily remained seated, nerves hidden beneath a steely calm.
Mum! Finally! You have no idea what just happened! Tom shouted from the hallway, his voice a mix of outrage and righteous indignation.
Margaret stormed into the living room like a gale, cheeks flushed, eyes flashing, a halftorn scarf slipping from her shoulders. Every fibre of her seemed primed for battle.
Come here, you little thing! she lunged at Emily, who rose calmly to meet her. How dare you command my son? How dare you speak to me like that?
Good afternoon, Margaret, Emily replied, maintaining a courteous veneer that only inflamed her motherinlaw further. Im glad youre here. Now we can discuss this calmly, without misunderstandings.
Discuss?! Margaret shrieked. I have nothing to discuss with a woman who insults her own sons mother! We took you into the family, and you turn out to be a snake! Where was Tom when you were spouting that?
He was right there, Mum! Margaret interrupted, turning to Tom. He says I should wash the windows myself! That youre not obliged! Do you understand?
I didnt say that, Tom, Emily said evenly. I said the truth. Youre his mother, so hes the one who should look after you. If you think my wife should do it for you, then either youre lazy or youre not a man at all.
How dare you? Margaret hissed, voice cracking. My son works! Hes exhausted! And you sit at home doing nothing!
I work too, Margaret, Emilys tone hardened. I earn at least as much as your son. My home is not a free service for your family. You raised a man who cant make a decision without you. Im tired of being the perpetual helper and scapegoat in this circus.
Her words landed like slaps. Tom was mute, unsure how to respond. Margaret trembled with fury.
Ive given him everything! Nights without sleep! And you come here, judge me?
Exactly because you gave him everything, he remains a dependent child, Emily shot back. He should have grown up by now. Instead you keep him on a short leash. I will no longer be part of this family theatre.
Tom finally erupted.
Enough! he roared, stepping forward. Youve crossed every line! My mother is a saint! If you dont like it, you can leave! I choose my mother! Shes the only one I have, and there are plenty like you out there!
The words landed like the final blow. Emily stared at him, cold, unflinching.
All right, Tom, she said softly, but with absolute resolve. Youve made your choice. Now I know what youre worth. I want nothing to do with you or your mother. Pack your things, or just go back to her. I dont care. This nightmare ends here.
She turned away, signalling the conversation was over. Behind her, Tom and Margarets hysterical shouting continued, but Emily no longer heard it. She gazed out the window at the new day breaking. A massive weight had lifted from her shoulders. Ahead lay uncertainty, but also freedom. Behind her lingered two people who had lost more than a daughterinlaw or a wifethey had lost the chance at a normal life, forever trapped in their own toxic knot.
