I was frying up some meatballs in the kitchen when the doorbell went off. I padded over to the hall to see who it was.
Mom, its for me, my daughter Emily called out halfway down the hallway. Ill get it.
Alright, I didnt know anyone was coming I replied, a little puzzled.
What are you standing there for? Keep frying, Emily snapped, turning back to the door with an annoyed look.
Why your meatballs? I bought the mince myself I protested.
Mom, just shut the door, she rolled her eyes.
Fine, Ill say that from the start, I muttered, heading back into the kitchen and pulling the door shut behind me. I turned off the gas under the pan, slipped off my apron and left the kitchen.
Emily was pulling on her coat in the hallway when Mark, a friend of hers, was standing nearby, eyes glued to her.
Hey, Mark. Where are you off to? Stay for dinner? I asked.
Hello, he smiled, looking at Emily with a question in his gaze.
Were in a hurry, she replied, not even glancing at me.
Maybe youll still have dinner with us? Its all ready, I repeated.
Mark fell silent.
No! Emily snapped. Lets go. She grabbed Marks arm, opened the door and shouted, Mom, could you close it?
I walked over and left the door ajar, just enough to hear the chatter from the street.
Whats with the tone? It smells delicious, I wouldnt say no to those meatballs, a voice called from outside.
Lets hit the café instead. Im fed up with your meatballs, Emily muttered.
Can they really get old? I love your mums meatballs, I could eat them every day, Mark said.
I couldnt make out what Emily answered. Voices on the staircase slowly faded away.
I finally shut the door completely and went into the living room where John was lounging in front of the telly.
John, lets have dinner while its still hot, I said.
Right, he got up and shuffled past me into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table.
Whats on the menu? he asked, sounding a bit demanding.
Rice with meatballs, and a salad, I replied, lifting the pan.
You know Ive told you a hundred times I dont eat fried meatballs, John grumbled.
I added a splash of water, they turned out almost steamed, I said, holding the lid.
Fine, lets eat. But this is the last time, he warned.
At our age, losing weight isnt a good idea, I added, plating his serving.
What do you mean our age? Im only fiftyseven. Thats prime time for a man, he laughed, skewering a meatball and taking a bite.
Are you all in on some conspiracy today? Emily snapped, pulling away. Im done cooking, see how youll manage. Think the café food is better, huh?
Dont bother. You could stand to lose a few pounds yourself. Youll choke on the door soon enough, John finished his bite and reached for another meatball.
Are you saying Im fat? Ive been busting my head over everything, and now youre suddenly watching your figure. Bought jeans, a leather jacket, a baseball cap even shaved my head to hide the balding. Who are you trying to impress? Definitely not me. Im overweight, and theres no one to compare me to, I snapped, hurt flickering in my voice.
Just let me eat in peace, John said, gesturing with his fork. He paused, then asked, Ketchup?
I fetched the ketchup from the fridge, slammed the bottle on the table and left the kitchen without a word. My plate stayed untouched.
I retreated to my daughters room, flopped onto the sofa and the tears started coming.
Everything I do, I do for them, and all I get is nothing. Johns looking elsewhere, thinks Im just a fat housewife. Emily looks at me like Im staff. If Im retired, can they just treat me like that? Id still work if they didnt cut me. They say experience isnt needed any more give them the youngsters. What can the young even do?
I get up before everyone else just to make breakfast, spend the whole day running around, never have a moment to sit. Its my own fault, I guess, spoiling myself. Now theyre sitting on my neck, hanging their legs over it.
The tears ran down my cheeks, I rubbed them away, trying not to sob. I always thought we had a good family not perfect, but not worse than anyone elses. Emilys at university, doing well. John doesnt drink or smoke, brings home a decent salary. The house is tidy, the food is tasty. What more could he want?
I stared at the mirror on the wardrobe door. Sure, Ive put on a few pounds, but Im not that heavy. At least the wrinkles arent glaring on my round cheeks. Ive always loved a good meal, I cook well. Turns out they dont need that. When I worked, Id style my hair, curl it. Now I just pin it back so it doesnt get in the way. Whats the point of high heels and fancy hair when Im just cleaning? Maybe I should lose some weight and dye my hair.
The next morning I stayed in bed longer than usual, pretending to be asleep. Im retired, I can sleep in a bit. Let them make their own breakfast, I thought.
The alarm finally went off. I turned away from the wall.
Whats wrong? Youre ill? John asked, with no sympathy in his voice.
Yeah, sure, I muttered, burying my face in the duvet.
Mom, are you sick? Emily popped into the room.
Yeah, go have breakfast without me, I croaked from under the covers.
Emily frowned and stalked off to the kitchen. Soon I heard the kettle sputter, the fridge door thump, and muffled voices from the hallway. I stayed under the duvet, playing the sick role until the end.
John drifted in, wearing that expensive cologne I bought for him. He left, Emily followed, and the house fell silent. I lifted the duvet, closed my eyes and fell asleep again.
An hour later I woke, stretched, and shuffled to the kitchen. Dirty mugs sat in the sink, crumbs littered the table. I thought about cleaning but decided, Im not a maid. I headed for a shower, then rang up an old school friend.
Ellie! Its been ages, she chirped. How are you? Not tired of being a pensioner?
I told her I missed getting out, that I hadnt visited my parents graves in ages, and asked if I could crash at her place.
Of course, youre always welcome. When are you coming? she asked.
Right now, Im heading to the station, I said.
Great, Ill put the pies in the oven, she replied.
I packed a small bag, swept the crumbs aside, left a note on the table saying Id be at Ellies for a few days, not sure when Id be back.
On the way to the station I hesitated. Maybe theyll manage without me. They never appreciate what I do, I thought. If I cant get a ticket, Ill just go home. The bus queue was long, but I managed to get a spot at the back.
Ellie greeted me with a hug, we tucked into tea and warm pies, and chatted nonstop.
Tell me everything, she said.
I poured out the whole story, and she nodded. Sounds right. Turn off your phone for a bit.
Is that too drastic? I asked.
Just right, she assured. Tomorrow well hit the salon, give you a fresh look. Val, the stylist, works there. Remember how she used to be the class dunce? Now shes booked solid. Well shop, make you look like a bombshell. Let John bite his nails.
That night I lay awake, wondering if they were angry or happy about my sudden disappearance.
At the salon Val greeted us warmly, settled me into a chair. She trimmed my hair, shaped my brows, and gave me a new haircut. I almost fell asleep as she worked. She insisted on a full makeup session, which I tried to decline, but Ellie convinced me to see it through.
When I finally looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself younger, striking. Val was already arranging a manicure.
No, thats enough for today. I cant take much more, I begged.
Okay, well book you for eight a.m. tomorrow. Dont be late, Val said firmly.
Ellie gushed, Look at you! Who wouldve thought? We left the salon and headed to the shopping centre.
Id rather wait for another day, I suggested.
No, lets go. You cant walk around in that old coat with a new haircut, Ellie laughed, dragging me into a store.
I walked out in loosefit trousers, a light cardigan and a simple top, feeling oddly satisfied despite the exhaustion.
I carried bags with a new dress, a jacket and a box of shoes, feeling lighter, more confident. It was about time I gave myself a bit of a boost. Thank goodness Ellie nudged me toward change.
Outside the house a tall man with stark white hair and dark moustache approached. Hello, ladies, he said, admiring me. You havent changed a bit still looking smashing.
I stared at Ellie, confused.
Dont you recognise him? Its Tom Hughes, Ellie whispered.
Tom? I repeated.
Yes, Tom. Hes the bloke from school, used to be skinny and invisible, the man confirmed.
We should go over to his place, celebrate my makeover. We even bought a bottle of wine, Ellie suggested.
We all sat at his kitchen table, sipping wine and reminiscing about school days. I flushed, half from the wine, half from the attention.
Hes still got a thing for you, Ellie said when Tom drifted out.
Stop it, its been years, I retorted.
You look so good, anyone could fall for you again, she replied.
Does he still live around here? I asked, changing the subject.
No, hes a retired colonel now, after serving in the army. He got badly injured overseas, doctors werent sure hed walk again. His wife left him, but hes back on his feet, though he limps a bit. Take your time, think it over, Ellie advised.
Im married, you know, I protested.
Later that night I decided it was time to head home, but Ellie wouldnt let me go.
Just arrived and already leaving? Not like that. Show some backbone. Nothing will happen to you. Stay a week, see how it feels. By the way, Tom has theatre tickets. When was the last time you went to a show?
Remember the school Christmas play? I went with Ellie, I said.
Ellie teased, The school play, right? Lets show off your new dress.
Three days later my phone finally rang.
Mum, where are you? Dads in hospital! Come quickly, shouted Svetlana.
My heart leapt. I scrambled my things, and Tom drove me to the station.
Anna, Im here if you need anything, he said.
Thanks, Tom.
On the bus I called Svetlana. She told me her dad had been cheating, that hed been seen leaving a neighbours flat, that hed been in a violent fight, broken a few ribs and even had a brain bleed. She said the ambulance arrived just in time.
I listened, stunned, and felt a strange pull to go back. By evening I was home, though the hospital was already closing.
Svetlana, youre so different now. I cant even recognise you, she said, her tone suddenly respectful.
I was scared youd never come back, that youd found someone else, she confessed.
No one, I just wanted to teach you a lesson. You stopped seeing me as a person, she added.
Sorry, Mum, but youre the one who stopped looking after yourself. Youve turned into an old lady, and now Dad will be jealous again. Will you forgive him? she kept on.
I looked around the room, feeling how good it was to be home, surrounded by familiar things.
The next morning I got up early, made chicken broth and drove to the hospital. John looked older, his beard now peppered with grey. He broke down in tears when he saw me, begging forgiveness. I fed him soup from a spoon.
Two weeks later John was discharged. As we left the taxi, a couple passed by, and John winced, turning away. The woman glanced down, and I realised she was my rival a slim, redhaired young woman. John slumped, looking embarrassed.
Are you not leaving again? he asked.
No, Im not thin enough yet, I joked.
I asked for forgiveness, I was a fool. Can you fry those meatballs again? Ive missed your cooking, he pleaded.
I cooked the meatballs, the kitchen filled with their aroma.
It smells amazing! shouted Svetlana, back from university.
We all sat down together, just like the old days when she was still at school and John never complained about my cooking. I could stand at the stove for hours just to make him happy.
I stared at my family, grateful they were alive, healthy, and that I still mattered.
Life isnt always smooth, especially as we get older. The body isnt what it used to be, but the spirit can stay young. Its hard to accept, but you just try to hold onto the strength you once had.
Everyone learns their lesson. The important thing is were still together. You cant change the horses on the ferry, just as you cant outrun time on a wild stallion.
A good wife, a cosy home what more does anyone need to face old age?
