Dear Diary,
This morning I slipped into the kitchen in my old jogging tracks and a crumpled tee, trying to enjoy a lazy Saturday vibe. I filled my water jug at the tap, barely noticing Emily, who was perched at the tiny table by the window, sipping her coffee. Sunlight danced across the tablecloth, but her thoughts seemed far away.
Shed asked me for a simple favour: James, could you swing by to my mums and wash the balcony windows? She cant manage them herself. And could you pick up the groceries for the week? Its a decent list. It wasnt the first time shed made such a request. It started with harmless errands Emily, could you drop off some bread for Mum? then grew into regular trips across town with heavy bags, deepcleaning her motherinlaws house, even small repairs that Aunt Margaret claimed only a young, spry lad could handle. Meanwhile I was never seen at Mums side; I always had an excuse work, fatigue, or simply I dont feel like it. Youre off today, shed sigh, and Id head off to my own chores, washing, fixing, and listening to Margarets endless rants about health, prices, neighbours, and how poor James gets the short end of the stick.
One evening Emilys voice, unusually calm yet steelstrong, cut through the clatter. James, Ive told you before. Im your wife, not a personal assistant for your mother, and certainly not a free housekeeper. If Aunt Margaret needs help, why dont you go yourself? You have the day off. Did you forget?
I blinked, caught off guard. Usually these talks ended with me reluctantly agreeing after a few coaxing words.
I I thought youd I stammered, frowning. Its not hard! The womens work of washing windows and buying food is something you could handle better.
Emilys smile turned sour, signalling trouble.
Womens work, huh? she retorted, dripping sarcasm. So lugging fivekilogram sacks of potatoes up to the seventh floor and scrubbing windows is now exclusively a ladys duty? And youll stay home, conserving energy for a cosy couch evening?
The tension rose. I slammed my glass onto the counter, my face flushing.
Why are you making a mountain out of this? I just asked! You know Mums frail, its hard for her! Instead of help you throw a fit!
Fit? Emily raised an eyebrow. So my refusal to be a slave is a fit? Listen carefully.
What else? I asked.
Im your wife, not your errandgirl! If your mum needs help, you must do it yourself. Its your duty as a son. Dont offload it onto me. Im not pleading for my mothers aid; those are my problems, and Ill deal with them. So, love, grab the list, a rag, a bucket and head to Mums. Use my gloves if you lack yours. Ill tend to my own business. No more such requests will be entertained. Clear?
I stared at her as if she were an alien. The familiar hierarchy was crumbling. Emily, whod always yielded, now stood cold, decisive, with no room for compromise.
You understand what youre saying? Its disrespectful to my mother! I raised my voice, stepping forward.
No, James. Its respect for yourself. Basic selfrespect. If you cant see that, thats your issue.
She rose, calmly walked around the table and left the kitchen, leaving me alone amidst the sunspotted tiles, a shattered sense of comfort, and the sudden realisation that life had grown far less cosy.
I followed her into the sitting room where she perched with a book, a picture of composure. I halted in the doorway, fists clenched, anger flaring.
Did you just decide to ignore my request? To pretend my pleas, and my mothers, mean nothing? Is that how a wife should act?
Emily lowered the book slowly.
Do you think its normal, James, to shift a sons responsibilities onto his wife? she asked, voice even. Your mother is yours. She has a son, an adult with a day off. Yet you send her wife instead of helping yourself.
Because it never bothered anyone before! I shouted, taking a sharp step. You always helped, and it was fine! What changed? Did you suddenly crown yourself queen?
What changed is that I cant do it any longer, she replied, her tone devoid of anger, just deep, longstanding fatigue. Im tired of being the convenient helper for both of you, not a full person. My time, energy, and wishes are never considered. You say you always agreed. Have you ever thought what that cost me? How often I sacrificed my plans, my rest, even my health, just to please you and your mum?
I waved my hand off, as if swatting a fly.
So now youre the martyr again? Nobody forced you. You chose it, so it must have been comfortable for you!
I chose it to keep peace in the family, Emily said bitterly. I hoped youd appreciate, feel how much I do. But you took it for granted, as if I were obligated to serve all your relatives. Interestingly, my own mother never asked you to help with windows or the garden, even when she needed a hand. She respects that we have our own lives. Yet your mum, with you, treats me like a free resource, available at a moments notice.
Dont compare them! I roared, face twisted with rage. My mother always looked after us! Now, when she asks for help, you act selfishly? Thats just ego!
Wholl think of me if I dont? Emily stared straight into my eyes, fearless and unapologetic. You? The man who never notices how I look after your mother? Or Aunt Margaret, who after a cleanup starts bragging about how the neighbours daughterinlaw bakes pies daily? No, James. This chapter is over. I will no longer be the doormat everyone steps on, hiding behind obligation and help to justify their exploitation.
The room crackled. My usual levers of guilt and blame fell flat, only feeding my fury.
Youre ungrateful! I spat. We pour our hearts into you and you you dont value any of it! You couldnt care less about our feelings!
Oh, feelings! Emily laughed, but there was no mirth. When was the last time you asked about mine? When I trudged home after a full day with your mum and you merely said, All right. Done? Good job. My needs? A moment of rest, a simple human acknowledgment? Never. Its easier to have a wife who silently does everything you command.
I paced like a cornered animal. My usual tactics of pressure and accusation failed, only inflaming the situation.
Fine, I finally gasped, breathing heavily. If you wont cooperate, Ill bring mum into this!
I fished out my phone and dialled. Emily sat calmly, a hint of disdain on her face. She knew the move calling in the heavy artillery of his mother.
A few seconds later, Aunt Margarets displeased voice crackled through.
James, why so early? Im just trying not to get worked up.
Mum, can you believe this? I asked Emily to pop over and help with the windows and the shop, as usual. She threw a fit! She says youre my mother, I should go myself, not send a girl on errands! Can you imagine?
Silence hung thick. Emily smirked in her mind, aware of how her mother liked to pause dramatically.
What?! Margaret finally sputtered, feigning surprise. She said that about me?
Yes, Mum, exactly that! I blurted. She says youre my mother, not hers, and that I must look after you while shes left to do the work herself. Its nonsense! Im shocked!
Ah, the youth today Margarets tone turned patronising. I thought a daughterinlaw would be like family but she
Hand over the phone, Emily said evenly.
I looked at her triumphantly.
Afraid? Going to apologise to mum?
Hand it over, she repeated, her voice colder than ever. I hesitated, then passed the handset, flipping it to speaker.
Good afternoon, Margaret, Emily began, businesslike. I heard your conversation and Id like to set the record straight.
Emily, dear, whats happening with James? He looks upset why are you treating me like this? Were one family.
Margaret, if you truly need help with physically demanding tasks like washing windows and carrying groceries, you should ask your son. He has the day off, hes healthy, and its his duty as a son to care for his mother. I am his wife, not your housekeeper.
Emily, love, youre the housewife Margaret trailed off, irritation seeping in. James is a man, he has other responsibilities. He provides for the family
I work too, Margaret, Emily interjected. My day off is valuable. I will not perform regular chores for your household for free. If cleaning is difficult, you could hire a cleaning service. Thats a realistic solution.
Cleaning service?! Letting strangers into my home? People will gossip! Theyll think the son and daughterinlaw have abandoned me!
What others think matters little to me, Emily replied firmly. What matters is my right to a life of my own, to rest. If James feels ashamed to help his mother, thats his problem, not mine.
A heavy, ragged sigh came from the line.
So thats it? Margaret finally said, her voice stripped of any former softness, replaced by cold anger. You think you can run the house? Fine, Emily I wont let this slide. If youre against family, against order, against respect for elders, Ill come over myself and sort this out. Well have a serious talk. Youll see how things ought to be done.
She hung up with a click. I glared at Emily, expecting her to crumble. She simply set the phone down, unmoved.
Forty minutes later a frantic knock rattled the front door. I sprang to answer, heart pounding, while Emily stayed seated, her resolve as solid as stone.
Mum! You wont believe what just happened! I shouted as I swung the door open, breathless with indignation.
Margaret stormed in like a gale, cheeks flushed, eyes blazing, her scarf slipping from her shoulder. She was ready for battle.
Come here, you little thing! she snapped at Emily, who rose calmly to meet her. How dare you order my son? How dare you speak to me like that?
Good afternoon, Margaret, Emily replied, maintaining politeness that only fueled the matriarchs fury. Glad youre here. Lets talk calmly, without misunderstandings.
Discuss? Margaret screeched. I have nothing to discuss with the woman who insults my sons mother! We welcomed you into the family, and you turn out to be a snake! Where was James when you were saying all this?
He was right there, Mum, Margaret defended, saying I should wash the windows myself! That Im not obliged to do it! Can you imagine?
I wasnt just saying that, James, Emily said evenly. I was stating the truth. He is your son, so he is responsible for looking after you. If you think his wife should do it for him, either youre lazy or youre not a man at all.
How dare you! Margaret gasped. My son works! Hes exhausted! And you sit at home doing nothing!
I also work, Margaret, Emilys voice grew firmer. I earn as much as your son. My home is not a free service station for your family. You raised a man who cant make a decision without you. Im done being the endless helper and scapegoat in this system.
Her words landed like slaps. I was at a loss, the room trembling with Margarets rage.
Ive given him everything! Nights without sleep! And you come in with a casserole and judge me!
Exactly because you gave him everything, he remains dependent, Emily replied, not giving her a moment to breathe. He should be independent by now, but you keep him on a short leash. I will no longer be part of that theatrical family act.
I finally snapped.
Enough! I roared, stepping forward. Youve crossed every line! My mother is holy to me! If you dont like it, leave! I choose my mother. Shes the only one I have, and there are plenty like you!
Those words were the final blow. Emily stared at me with a long, cold gaze.
Fine, James, she said softly yet firmly. Youve made your choice. I know now what youre worth. I want nothing to do with you or your mother. Pack your things, or go back to her. I dont care. This nightmare ends here.
She turned away, signalling the conversation was over. Behind her, the chaotic shouting of mother and son continued, but I no longer heard it. Emily looked out the window at a new day beginning. A massive weight had lifted from her shoulders. The future was uncertain, but it was hers, free from the toxic grip of a family that had turned love into duty.
Lesson learned: love cannot be a contract of endless chores; respect for oneself must stand alongside respect for others, or the whole house will crumble.
