A Week of Sausage: When My MotherinLaw Monitors Our Servings
The sausage for the weekhow my motherinlaw keeps tally of every bite
It was midJuly when HélèneLucienne was scrubbing the windows, shaking out the cushions and reminding her daughter that it was time to head out to the countrysidethe garlic was ready for harvest. Élodie tried to make excuses: work, obligations, the kids Yet her mother, as steadfast as ever, wouldnt budge.
Summers almost over, and youre still cooped up in your Paris flat! she snapped over the phone, irritated. The strawberries will spoil, the potatoes will turn green, and youre glued to your phones!
In the end they agreed on a weekend, just to lend a hand in the garden and enjoy a quiet evening.
Alexandre had no desire to make the trip. Their previous visit had ended on a sour note, leaving him with a bitter memory. He had simply asked for a bit of sausage to go with the couscousbut his motherinlaw had flatout refused. So bluntly, in fact, that he was left speechless.
On Saturday they left early. They worked efficiently: the garlic was pulled, sorted and stored. Evening, dinner and family chatter were left for later. Alexandre showered, then slipped into the kitchen. Élodie and her mother were setting the table while the scent of couscous filled the room. To pass the time, he opened the fridge, grabbed a few slices of sausage for a sandwichwhen suddenly
Dont touch that! HélèneLuciennes voice cracked like a gunshot.
The sausage was thrust back into the fridge. Alexandre froze, stunned.
Whats going on, Mom? Élodie asked, bewildered.
The sausage is for breakfast, with bread! Not before then. And dont spoil your appetite! the motherinlaw snapped.
Alexandre tasted the couscous, but found no meat in it. He asked again for a piece of sausage. Another refusal.
Why this obsession? HélèneLucienne snapped. Youve already eaten half of it! Do you know how much it costs? Its meant to last the whole week!
Alexandre pushed his plate away. With his appetite gone, he drifted outside, lay down on the garden sofa, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Élodie joined him later.
Im going back inside. I cant stand this vibe. Every move is watched, as if I were a thief. Im even scared to butter my toast too much, lest it be snatched from my hands.
There isnt even a grocery store here, Élodie muttered, embarrassed. Just the greengrocers van on Wednesdays.
We should have brought food instead of cherries and apricots, Alexandre grumbled. Im leaving tomorrow. Ill come back for you later. Without meat I wont last long.
Well leave together, Élodie declared firmly.
The next morning they drove back to Paris. Élodie lied to her mother, citing a work emergency for Alexandre. HélèneLucienne watched them leave, her stare cold.
A year passed without them setting foot in HélèneLuciennes home. She, however, visited them without hesitation, and oddly enough she would open their fridge as if it were her own, taking whatever she wanted without asking. Alexandre even laughed about it:
Look, the sausage! Apparently it has full rights here
In spring the calls resumed:
So, when are you coming back? The garden wont wait.
Alexandre resisted until Élodie suggested a trick:
Lets bring provisions. That way Mom cant count our portions.
He agreedprovided they detour to the supermarket first. Soon they were back at the country house, arms laden with bags.
What now? Apricots again? HélèneLucienne asked, pursing her lips. As she rummaged through the bags she uncovered cheese, meat, sausage and fell silent.
Now you wont have to calculate how many grams I eat, Alexandre joked.
HélèneLucienne let out a faint, disdainful sigh but said nothing. Later, in the kitchen, she whispered to Élodie:
It would be nice if you always brought supplies. Simpler for me, easier for you.
Élodie nodded, half annoyed, half amused. The bottom line was clear: Alexandre was willing to return, this time with groceries, but without fights or accusations. And, on reflection, that was a kind of family happiness too.
A Week of Sausages: When My Mother-in-Law Critiques Our Portions
