Youre the one to blame, Mum, the voice rang through the kitchen as Eleanor Whitaker flipped the meat patties. The doorbell chimed, and she stepped out of the steamfilled room to answer.
Mom, its for me, called her daughter, Ethel, stopping halfway down the hallway. Ill get it.
Very well. I didnt know Eleanor murmured, puzzled.
Why are you lingering? Keep cooking your patties, Ethel snapped, turning back toward the doorway.
My patties are yours, dear, Eleanor replied, I bought the mince myself
Close the door, Mum, Ethel rolled her eyes.
Had you said that earlier Eleanor shivered back into the kitchen, pulled the door shut just enough to let a sliver of air slip through, and switched off the gas beneath the skillet. She slipped out of her apron and left the room.
In the entryway Ethel was pulling on her coat. Beside her stood Simon Hale, a friend who had been watching her with a lovers glint.
Hello, Simon. Where are you off to? Join us for dinner, Eleanor called.
Good evening, Simon smiled, gazing at Ethel with a questioning look.
Were in a hurry, Ethel said, not looking at her mother.
Why not stay for a bite? Everythings ready, Eleanor repeated, hopeful.
Simon hesitated.
No! Ethel snapped. Lets go. She looped Simons arm through hers and swung the door open. Mum, could you close it?
Eleanor reached for the door but left it ajar, listening to the muffled chatter from the garden.
Youre being harsh, a voice floated from the patio. It smells delicious, I wouldnt mind a patty.
Lets grab a bite at the café. Im fed up with your patties, Ethel muttered.
They could never tire me out, Simon whispered. I could eat your mothers patties every day.
Eleanor could not catch what Ethel replied. The voices on the stairs faded, receding like distant bells.
Eleanor finally shut the door and slipped into the living room where Charles Whitaker lounged before the television.
Charles, lets have dinner while its still hot, she said.
What? he grunted, rising from the sofa and shuffling into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table.
Whats on the menu? he demanded.
Rice with patties and a salad, Eleanor announced, lifting the skillet lid.
You know I dont eat fried patties, he complained.
I added water, theyre almost steamed, Eleanor said, holding the lid like a shield.
Fine, but thats the last time, he muttered, spearing a patty with his fork.
At our age, losing weight is unhealthy, Eleanor remarked as she placed a plate of rice and patties before him.
What age is that? Im only fiftyseven. A man at my years is in his prime, Charles replied, chomping half a patty.
Are you all conspiring against me? Ethels earlier protest echoed in his mind. Im done cooking. Youll see how you manage without it. Think the café serves better food?
Dont cook then. You could use a little slimming yourself, Charles said, polishing off the second patty. Youll soon be too big to fit through the door.
Do you think Im fat? Ive been breaking my head over this while you buy new jeans, a leather jacket, a baseball cap, shave your hair to hide baldness. Who are you trying to impress? Not me. Yes, Im plump. Compare me to whom? Eleanor asked, voice trembling with hurt.
Let me eat in peace, Charles said, poking at the rice with his fork, then dropping it back onto the plate. Pass the ketchup, he demanded.
Eleanor fetched a jar of ketchup, slammed it on the table, and left the kitchen, leaving her untouched plate behind.
She retreated to Ethels room, sank onto the sofa, and tears welled up. I cook, I try, and they I do everything for them and receive no gratitude. Charles flirts with younger women. Im the fat one for him. My daughter looks at me like Im staff. If Im retired, can they ignore me? I would work if they didnt cut my hours. They say experienced staff are useless, only the young matter. But what can the young do?
She rose earlier than anyone, though she no longer worked, just to make breakfast. The day spun endlessly, no time to lie down. Its my fault, she whispered, I spoiled them, and now they sit on my throat, dangling their feet. Tears streamed down her cheeks, she brushed them away with her hands, stifling a sob.
She had always believed they had a good family, imperfect but no worse than any other. Ethel was at university, doing well. Charles didnt drink or smoke, earned a decent wage. The house was tidy, the food tasty. What more could he want?
She stared at the mirror on the wardrobe door, examined herself. Yes, Ive put on a few pounds, but Im not that heavy. Wrinkles are softened by round cheeks. Ive always loved food. I cook well. They just dont need it. When I worked, I curled my hair, now I braid it at the nape so it doesnt get in the way. Should I be sweeping floors in heels? I need to lose weight, maybe dye my hair.
The next morning she lingered in bed, pretending to sleep. Im retired, I can stay in the dark a little longer. Let them make their own breakfast, she thought.
The alarm buzzed. She turned her face to the wall.
Are you ill? Charles asked, his tone flat.
Uhhuh, she mumbled, burying her nose in the blanket.
Mom, are you sick? Ethel entered the room.
Yes, go have breakfast yourselves, Eleanor whispered from under the duvet.
Ethel huffed and drifted to the kitchen. Soon the kettle sang, the fridge door clanged, murmurs floated from the hallway. Eleanor stayed under the covers, playing the part of the ailing matriarch.
Charles entered, exuding his expensive cologneone she had bought for him years ago. He and Ethel slipped out one after the other, leaving a heavy silence. Eleanor lifted the blanket, closed her eyes, and slipped into a dreamless sleep.
An hour later she awoke, stretched, and shuffled to the kitchen. Dirty mugs littered the sink, crumbs peppered the table. She considered cleaning but decided, I am not a servant. She slipped into the bathroom, turned on the shower, then called an old school friend.
Ellie! Its been ages! the friend chirped, voice unchanged by time. How are you? Still enjoying retirement?
I miss the bustle, the old graveyard visits, and Im thinking of staying over at yours, Ellie replied.
Of course, come any time. When?
Right now, Im heading to the station.
Great, Ill bake some scones.
Ellie packed a small bag, left a note on the kitchen table about her sudden departure, and swept the crumbs aside.
At the station she hesitated. Should I really leave them to manage without me? They never value my work, she thought. If I cant get a ticket, Ill return home. Tickets were available, a line snaked around the bus stop; she sighed and slipped to the back.
There she met Lucy, an old friend, and they embraced, sipping tea with warm scones, words spilling over like rain.
Tell me everything, Lucy urged.
Ellie sighed, You cant imagine. My husbands cheating, your fathers broken ribs, a brain bleed Lucy frowned, Dont be so dramatic. Lets cut your hair, get a new look. Tomorrow well go to the salon; Valentina works there. Shell turn you into a knockout, and your husband will be left choking on his own envy.
That night Ellie lay restless, wondering, Will they be angry or glad?
The next day Valentina greeted them warmly, guided Ellie to a chair, trimmed her hair, shaded her eyebrows, and coaxed her into a new shade of lipstick. By the time she looked in the mirror, she barely recognized herselfyoung, vibrant, striking.
Enough for today, Ellie whispered, tears prickling.
Eight oclock tomorrow, Valentina instructed. Dont be late, or the crowd will march on without us.
Lucy laughed, Look at you! Who would have guessed? They left the salon, heading to a shopping centre. Another time? Ellie asked. No, we must go, beauty demands sacrifice, Lucy replied, pulling her along.
Ellie emerged from the store in loose trousers, a light cardigan, and a sparkling new dress. She felt renewed, lighter, eager to face whatever came next.
Outside Lucys house, a tall man with stark white hair and dark moustache approached. Hello, ladies, he said, admiring Ellie. You look stunning.
Who are you? Ellie asked, bewildered.
Parker J. Hart, Lucy supplied, your old school mate. He used to be skinny and unnoticed.
Parker grinned, Lets celebrate your transformation with a bottle of wine, Lucy suggested.
They sat together, sipping, recalling school days. Ellie blushed, half from the wine, half from Parkers lingering gaze.
Hes still in love with you, Lucy whispered when Parker left.
Ellie scoffed, Its been years.
You look like someone I could fall for again, Lucy teased.
Does he still live nearby? Ellie asked.
No, hes retired from the army, a colonel now. He returned two years ago after a serious injury, limps a bit, his wife left him, but hes on his feet again. Lucy advised, Take your time, but dont rush.
Im married, Ellie protested.
Later that night she decided to return home, but Lucy refused. You just arrived and youre leaving? Show some backbone. Nothing will happen to you. Stay a week, enjoy the new look.
Three days later Ellies phone rang.
Mum, where are you? Dads in hospital! Come quickly, her daughter, Ethel, shouted.
A knot tightened in Ellies chest. She gathered her things, and Parker drove her to the station.
Ellie, Im here if you need anything, he said.
Thanks, Parker. She called Ethel on the bus. Ethel recounted her mothers strange behaviour, saying, Dad has been cheating. I saw him leaving the neighbours flat. He never came home when you vanished. Yesterday his other wifes husband showed up, fighting broke out, he broke two ribs, had a brain bleed, but the ambulance got him in time.
Ellie listened, stunned, feeling she shouldnt leave. She arrived home by dusk; the hospital was already closed.
Mum, youve changed completely. I barely recognize you, Ethel said, respectful for the first time, staying close all evening.
I was scared you wouldnt come back, so I tried to teach you a lesson. You stopped seeing me as a person, Ellie replied. Youre right, I retired, stopped caring for myself, turned into an old woman. Do you think Ill forgive Dads jealousy?
She scanned the room, grateful for the familiar walls, the familiar scent of home.
The next morning she rose early, boiled chicken broth, and drove to the hospital. Charles, now greying at the chin, wept when he saw her, begging forgiveness. She fed him the soup with a tiny spoon.
Two weeks later Charles was discharged. As they left the taxi, a man and woman passed by; Charles flinched. The woman averted her gazeEllie recognized her as a rival: a sleek, redhaired, young woman. Charles slumped, humbled.
Are you staying? he asked at home.
Am I not thin enough? I havent lost weight, Ellie retorted brightly.
I asked for forgiveness. I was foolish. Fry those patties, will you? I miss your cooking, he pleaded.
Ellie fried the patties, served a hearty dinner.
It smells wonderful! Ethel exclaimed, returning from university.
They sat together as they once had, when Ethel was still in school and Charles never criticised his wifes cooking. Ellie felt ready to stand at the stove for hours just to please him.
She looked at her family, grateful they were alive, nearly healthy, and that she still mattered.
Life in a family is never perfectly smooth. Age drifts in, bodies change, but the soul remains youthful. It is hard to accept, yet we strive to keep the old vigor alive.
Everyone learns their lesson; the most important thing is that they stay together. One cannot change the horses at the river crossing, nor cling to a wild young steed forever; the journey ends at the last station of life.
A good wife, a warm homewhat more does a person need to meet old age?
