The banquet that night was the last I ever set before my kin. I still recall it as if the candles were still flickering on the long oak table in the old cottage near Cambridge.
Well then, my dear guests, have you had your fill? Have the wine and food satisfied you? Did I do you justice? I asked, rising to the head of the table.
Yes, sister, replied Charles, his voice warm, youre as brilliant as ever.
Exactly so! chimed Eleanor, my sister, her smile as bright as ever. We learned to cook together for Mother, but I could never match your flavours. No wonder I always summon you for my celebrations!
Mother, whispered Mabel, halflaughing, and Im still stuck in the gym! Yet I couldnt stop myself from coming.
Darling, Ill send you a wife to teach you how to cook, added Thomas with a grin.
Thats why I married you! boomed Victor, belching contentedly. Pardon me!
Yes, Ive pleased you! I said, smiling wide. Then, after a pause that stole the grin from my face, I declared, Now, all of you, be gone from my home!
It was the final dinner I prepared for you, the last time I bent over a stove for you. I no longer wanted to see or hear you, let alone think of you. I snatched the massive, heavy salad bowl from the table and, with a wild grin, hurled it to the floor.
Enough, little ones! The dancing is over, I said, a harsh smile playing on my lips. Ill not let any of you ride on my back any longer, especially you lot.
Silence fell over the room, and the guests stared in shock. No one could have expected such a display from a woman known for her calm, helpful, and obedient ways.
Are you out of your mind? asked Victor, receiving an immediate slap from his wife.
Call an ambulance; shes having a fit! shouted Eleanor.
I lifted an empty wine decanter, its amber remnants catching the light. Anyone who reaches for the phone will get a taste of it! I said, smiling politely. Why are you standing still? Get up and run! Youre my insatiable little gremlins!
Eleanor! ordered Charles sternly. I tell you, as an older brother, calm yourself and come to your senses.
No! I replied, smiling still. I will not serve you any longer! I will not placate you! I will no longer dash about because someone else cant do anything themselves! Thats enough!
Whats gotten into you? Victor asked, rubbing his reddened cheek. Everything was fine.
I didnt gather you all for nothing, I said, sinking into a chair and leaning back. Your cheekiness has crossed every line, and its been that way for ages. Your latest demands showed just how bold youve become, and I refuse to see any of you again.
But we did nothing wrong, muttered Thomas.
Exactly, my son! I replied.
It is said that one ought to live a life rightly, and that is indisputable. Yet what is right varies with each mans counsel. I spent fortyfive years convinced I was living correctly. At worst, I could not fault myself.
I was the third child and second daughter in my family. I delighted my parents, adored my brother, and never troubled my sister. I learned a trade, worked hard, never reaching for the stars, yet never dragging my heels either.
Eventually I married, bore two children, and was a faithful, loving wife, never raising my voice without cause. I was a good mother, raised and educated my children, and set them out into the world.
Even as an adult I kept close ties with my brother and sister, offering help, celebrating together, sharing troubles, and rejoicing in each others joys. People called me kind, responsive, clever, and understanding. Thats why I believed my life was rightuntil, at fortyfive, I learned what it meant to be abandoned in the bleakest moment.
Miss Eleanor Mather, the doctor said after lunch, all tests are in, no contraindications. Shall we schedule the operation?
Yes, doctor, I replied sadly, the decisions already made.
I understand, he said, noting my despondence, but you never know
Go ahead, I waved my hand. The sooner we start, the sooner it ends.
Very well, he noted in my chart. Youll have dinner tonight, none tomorrow, and the operation the day after.
He turned to the woman sharing the ward. Mrs. Clarke, your results arent as good; well investigate further.
Alright, Mr. Hartley, she replied.
When the doctor left, he asked me, Why so downcast? Afraid of the surgery?
Its part of it, I admitted, glancing at my phone. My husband
My husband left me with a song, chuckled Mrs. Clarke. I reckon the children will go to their mother, and hell throw a party! Hell sort it out laterperhaps his mind has already drifted elsewhere.
From his last voice message, hes already out on his feet, I said, pursing my lips. He knows Im having an operation, yet he thinks its nothing. He could at least offer a word of support! Instead hes out with his mates, a glass in hand.
Ah, Mrs. Clarke waved her hand. All men are like thatcats in the house, mice dancing on the floor.
Its still painful, I replied. A hysterectomy is serious. A little encouragement would have meant the world. I told him I was scared and needed his support. He sent two brief texts after I left and now says nothing.
Mrs. Clarke was ten years younger and lacked the experience to soothe me, so the conversation faded on its own.
I refused to eat that night, taking nothing with me, for I knew I needed to fast before the operation. I lay quietly, staring at the ceiling, recalling a time when William broke his leg in two places at work. I visited him daily, bringing homecooked meals, clean clothes, staying late to keep him company, barely making it back home by midnight. When he was released, I took time off to help, like a squirrel on a wheel, never refusing my husband any aidwater, spoonfeeding, washing, shaving, grooming.
Why does he treat me so? I asked Mrs. Clarke when she returned from dinner.
Not just yours, she laughed. All of them are the sameconsumers! Do they teach their wives to sit on their necks at school?
Ive kept a job for three years, arranged positions through acquaintances, chosen a fatterpocketed place. Yet he never liked any of it. He wouldnt work until I threatened divorce and alimony!
My husband works, I said.
Your husbands a different beast, Mrs. Clarke gestured. All the sameexploiters! If you dont tie them down, theyll sit on your neck, pull your legs, then run off! Thats what Ive learned.
I began to realise my husband was like cheese in butter, smothered in cream, while I was merely a footnote beneath him.
Am I overreacting? I asked, nerves from the pending operation bubbling. Am I just worrying?
Both can coexist, she replied. The fact you hear no kind words from him is plain as day. My husband, even if barely, brings me fruit juices, calls, sends heart emojis.
I turned away, pulling the blanket over my head.
Going a day without food, even when youre starving, is no small feat. I tried to distract myself with conversation, but the wards routine of tests and scans kept Mrs. Clarke coming and going in brief bursts.
Phone in hand, I thought, Relatives will talk to pass the time. My son, Edward, didnt pick up; he only sent a message promising a callback. My daughter, Beatrice, hung up twice before her number became unavailable.
Good children, I whispered to myself, bewildered.
They wont answer? Mrs. Clarke asked between examinations.
Imagine! I replied. Is it so hard to answer your mother?
Adults?
Even they live apart now.
All right, mother, forget them! Youll only see them when you need something. The fledglings have left the nest; the wind will carry them wherever.
My eldest, sixteen, now treats me like nothing. If they live separately, parents become redundant! Perhaps theyll appear at a funeral.
No, we have wonderful relations! I insisted.
Then why dont they pick up?
Mrs. Clarke hurried off, leaving me to ponder. Is it truly that hard to find a minute to speak with mum? Lately their visits have all been about moneyno loans, just a plea for whatever they can spare.
The sorrow was overwhelming. Mrs. Clarke was right: The fledglings have flown. They think of their parents only when they need something.
I dialled my husband again. No answer. I left a message that remained unread.
Ah, WilliamWilliam! I muttered. If only youd not be off the rails!
Only by evening did he appear with a message: Where are our savings? Pays gone, weve nothing to live on! Hed been paid three days ago.
Nevertheless! I thought, recalling his bravado. Feast like a mountain, wine like a river! Yet I gave him no reply. Had he hinted at concern, I might have spoken, but he kept silent, leaving it to his own devices.
My brother Charles answered my call, saying he was busy before hanging up.
Ah, hes busy, I murmured. The ward was empty of Mrs. Clarke, so I got no retort. I remembered the six months I lived in two houses after Charless wife abandoned him, leaving children behind. I tended to them, to the mother, the cook, the cleaner, everything, until Charles found a new partner.
Conflicts arose, for Charles demanded his children be loved, while I wanted my own, and his new family pushed back.
I spent a year and a half smoothing things over, yet never received a word of thanks. And now hes busy again, I thought, recalling the short rings and silence when I called back that night.
Thanks for the black list, brother! I muttered. He, too, knew of my forthcoming operation. When he asked to take the children for a month, I refused, citing the surgery.
My sister Beatrice gave me only five minutes of attention, barely asking about my health: When will you be fit again? My husbands sidefamily of ten is arriving; well house them in a hotel, but they need feeding at home. Youre my only hope!
I dont know, Beatrice, I said. The operation is tricky. Two or three weeks in hospital, then weeks of convalescence. Doctors say up to fifty days.
No, no, sister! You must be swift, like a waltz, ready in three weeks! This is my husbands family, their importance outweighs everything! she demanded.
Im scared, I admitted.
Stop dawdling! Chirpchirp and off you go! she snapped. The words stung.
Does it matter that the operation is serious? Complications may arise! Who knows what could happen? I said, looking at my phone. And a cook is needed! Im approaching fifty, yet I never learned to cook properly!
Beatrice constantly called on my younger sister, Lillian, to feed her guestscolleagues, husbands friends, any celebration. I spent days away from the stove, yet never received an invitation to sit at her table.
Did you think? Beatrice fumed. It was a strangers gathering!
My preparations for that gathering were ignored.
The operation proceeded without incident, and I remained in the hospital for another fortnight. I refused to call anyone, waiting for someone to remember me. No one didneither husband, children, brother, nor sister.
After much thought, I reached a decisive moment.
Eleanor, what nonsense are you spouting? Charles complained. Did they remove a piece of your brain with the uterus?
Ah, you remembered! I said, delighted. I thought no one would think of me any longer.
I rose again to the head of the table, this time in the wards communal dining area.
Listen, my dear relatives! I have lain here for two weeks, and not a single soul asked how I fared, what I needed, or whether I was all right! No brother, no children, no sister, no husbandnone of you offered a word of concern.
There was silence, a thin whisper of outrage hanging over the room.
I have spent my whole life ready to do whatever you required. At the one moment I needed even a modest gesture of care, you were all absent! I thought, if I could survive this alone, I could manage everything else. But I will not be your errandrunner any longer.
I turned to each of them in turn.
William, divorce and no more words! You are out of my flat!
Children, you have your own lives; carry on! Should you need help, turn to your fatheryour mother is gone!
Boris and Beatrice, I will no longer look upon you! Hire nannies and cooks elsewhere! Enough!
Are you mad? How can this be? voices rose from the crowd.
All rose together, forming a line, marching out of my life. I finally want to live for myself, not for you! I shouted.
A breathless hush fell.
Alone in the quiet flat, I sat at the empty table and said, I overreacted, didnt I? I glanced at the shattered pieces of the great salad bowl. I shall begin a new life with a new bowl.
