Because of a chicken, I threw my husband out, and I dont regret a thing.
That morning, Elodie was exhausted. Shed spent the whole day tidying the living room, hanging the laundry, picking up her little ones toys, and scrubbing the tiles. She finally glanced at the oven: the roast chicken and its golden potatoes were browning beautifully, filling the kitchen with a mouthwatering aroma.
Just ten more minutes, she murmured, setting the timer before heading to the bathroom to wipe the grout. Everything was running smoothly until the front door slammed shut.
The kids must be home, she thought. But standing on the doorstep wasnt Lucas or Camille; it was her husband Julien, who was supposed to have been in the garage since early morning.
Wow, that smells amazing! he shouted, rubbing his hands together. Your roast chicken never fails!
Call the kids for dinner, Elodie said, turning back to the sink.
A minute later, bare feet pounded the floor, sneakers thudded in the hallway, and laughter erupted. Hearing a quarrel, Elodie left the kitchen, forgetting the timer.
Whats happening? she asked, still wearing gloves.
I want a drumstick! cried Camille, ten.
Me too! added Lucas, eight.
There are only two, right? Elodie asked, puzzled.
No! Theres only one left! Camille shouted, stamping her foot.
Elodie walked over to the table. Indeed, half of the bird had vanished; only the breasts and a few stray potatoes remained.
And dad? she asked.
Hes gone. He took half the chicken and left, Lucas grumbled.
Elodie grabbed her phone and dialed Julienno answer. She snatched the house keys and stormed out, fury bubbling. Again! she thought. He had taken the best piece, not for himself but for his friends. This wasnt selfishness any more; it was betrayal.
Near the village square, on a bench, Julien was seated with his buddies, beers in hand, the chicken perched on his lap. They laughed, ate, and licked their fingers.
Isnt that heavy? Elodie snapped, eyes blazing.
Come home, well talk later, Julien replied, embarrassed in front of his mates.
No, we talk now! You stole what I prepared for our children! Are you ashamed? Its not enough that you keep the prime cuts for yourself; now youre feeding your pals with what isnt yours?
Leave before I lose it, he said, grabbing her arm.
What are you doing? Elodie exclaimed. Youre not just selfish, Julien; youre a thiefstealing our kids food to fatten your drunken friends!
Cut the drama, El, he muttered, humiliated. It was just once.
Once? What about the fruit? The caviar my mother gave you that you devoured in a day? The barbecue where you let the kids eat the burnt scraps while you hoarded the best pieces?
Elodie turned and walked away.
That evening, when he returned, she was at the window.
You should see yourself, Julien scoffed. Divorce over a chicken. We should put you on a talk show.
Im filing for divorce, she said, voice icy. You dont get it. It isnt the chicken. Its your rudeness, your greed, and your selfcenteredness.
Where am I supposed to go? he retorted. Youre crossing the line.
At your mothers. The same woman who taught you that everything good belongs to you. Let her share it with you now.
Julien left, convinced Elodie was bluffing. The next day she submitted the paperwork, and he ended up sleeping at his mothers house.
Two weeks later, the phone rang.
You were right, sighed his exmotherinlaw. He eats everything in my house. I buy chocolates, he takes one and the rest disappears that night. I thought you were exaggerating, but yesterday he even drank the last drop of water from the kettle without asking.
You want me to take him back? Elodie asked, surprised.
No just vent, I guess.
Good luck then. Ive turned the page on that glutton. And guess what I finally breathe freely.
*Lesson of the day: Love can make us tolerate many things, but when selfishness dominates the table, it chokes the spirit of the home.*
