A week alone would make her as smooth as silk, but when he sees what has happened during that time, he freezes just after stepping over the threshold.
Blythe has not been herself lately. Cracks are appearing in her marriage to Tom, and she cant see a way out of this painful situation. It all began with little things, as it always does.
After work, Tom starts peppering her with biting remarks. His jokes are laced with anger, every word cuts deeper than a blow. With each passing day his behaviour worsens, even when theyre on holiday he gives her no respite.
You look like an old lady! he snarls, eyes glued to his phone. Other lads have wives who look like wives, and Ive got a shriveled prune of a partner!
Blythe does look older than her years. Her job is hard and demanding, leaving lines around her mouth. Hearing such insults from her own husband hurts the most. She works for the family, earning about twice what Tom makes, so he has no right to complain.
Tom spends his money however he likes, never consulting anyone. Where I want to go, thats where I spend! he says. No kids to save for!
Blythe puts up with that too. They have enough to get by. They arent officially married, but they live as a couple and arent rushing to the altar. Still, Toms mother, Eleanor, has long called Blythe her daughterinlaw, and Blythe has taken to calling her motherinlaw.
Eleanor is meddlesome and never satisfied. She constantly interferes in the young couples affairs, and most of her nagging lands on Blythe.
They live in a detached house on the outskirts of York. Though the property is in a town, the garden needs constant attention. Blythe often asks Tom for help:
I just cant keep up Im at work from dawn till dusk!
Whats it to me? Tom snaps. Its your house, youre the lady of the home, what does it matter to me?
In winter the garden is buried in snow until Blythe grabs a shovel herself. In summer it becomes a jungle of grass creeping up to the windows. She has to hire help to tidy up, then finish the rest after work. Meanwhile Tom lounges on the sofa, only getting up occasionally to glance at the progress.
Blythe forgives many things, but the final straw comes when she returns home after a grueling day, dragging her feet, a heavy shopping bag weighing down her arm. She hopes Tom will meet her at the door she even rings, but he doesnt answer. While she wipes sweat from her brow, music drifts from the back garden.
She drops the bag by the gate and hurries inside, where a lively house party blares. Inside, resentment boils; today she decides to vent everything thats piled up.
The room shakes with loud music, windows rattle. On the table sit snacks and a meal Blythe prepared earlier so she wouldnt have to fuss in the evening. Tom, ignoring his wife, dances with a loud, intoxicated woman dressed in a daring outfit.
Without a word, Blythe walks across the room and switches the music off.
Tom squints, his gaze foggy. What are you doing? he asks, stumbling.
Im asking you the same thing! Whats going on? Whos that woman?
His dance partner keeps moving as if nothings wrong.
Whats the big deal? Tom scoffs. Just an old schoolmate I ran into, thats all. Cant I relax in my own home?
If you remember, you said this is my house and you have no right to it. So clear her out, see your guest off, then well talk!
I wont! Tom tries to stand, but his legs wobble.
Blythe already feels disgusted. He is no longer a man to her; hes a burden, not a help. Living with him out of fear of loneliness? No thanks.
She grabs the woman by the elbow and leads her to the gate. Its time for you to go!
Back inside she asks, Are you staying or are you leaving on your own?
Tom shrugs, grabs a salad and a bottle from the table, staggers toward the door.
Youll survive without me, you hysterical mess! he shouts.
Oh dear! his mother yells, clutching her head. My heads splitting!
Mother, dont shout! Blythe threw me out because I didnt meet her, Tom lies, hoping his mother will side with him.
Whats there to meet? she asks, puzzled.
Who knows! She constantly finds fault with me this, that! Im exhausted from work. Do you think its easy for me? Why should I tidy a house that isnt mine?
Exactly! Eleanor agrees. First she should sort out the property, claim her share, then she can ask. Shes acting all important, expecting me to greet her! Shes perfectly fine, she should manage herself!
Thats what I told her, and she got angry!
Let her be angry! Dont give in. Nothing to concede! She wants marriage, shell endure. Shes not a little girl any more to be pushed around!
What am I supposed to do now? Tom asks, head bowed.
Hang in there, son! his mother urges. Shell crawl back, begging to be taken in again! A week alone will make her realise what shes done. Dont give in when she returns, demand she registers her address. Otherwise shell be left without you!
The mothers advice echoes, and Tom nods, taking it to heart.
Youre right, mum! I wont put up with her whims! Who does she think she is, ordering me about? Im no servant, Im an adult man! Im my own master!
Following his mothers plan, Tom actually disappears. He doesnt show up at home, doesnt call Blythe, and waits the full week.
Meanwhile Eleanor keeps pressing Tom: do this, do that. When he finally tries to push back, she reminds him of the oldschool discipline a swift tap on the back with a wooden spoon.
Youre not at your wifes place, youre at your mothers! If you dont work, youll lose lunch! she declares, bluntly.
Finally, after seven exhausting days, Tom decides to return. Ill go, Mum! Ill see how shes coping without me. Shell be crawling on her knees, begging me to come back!
Go, go! Dont give up! Speak clearly youll only come back on your own terms!
He strides out, chest puffed, chin held high, as if ready to prove his dominance. He reaches the gate, steps onto the lawn and freezes.
Something feels off. He looks around: the garden is immaculate, the grass trimmed in perfect lines, windows sparkling, flowerbeds neat, pathways clear of weeds. The whole scene looks freshly tended, lively, almost too perfect.
Even the gate is new no longer the squeaky old one, but a sturdy, wellbuilt one.
He pulls out his key, but it no longer fits. He hesitates a moment, then knocks decisively on the front door.
Inside, footsteps pause, then the door opens.
But it isnt the Blythe he knows. She isnt the tired woman with dark circles. Standing there is a freshfaced, smiling woman with a sparkle in her eyes.
I thought youd be here alone, suffering You could at least have called, she says lightly, tilting her head.
Why would I? Blythe replies, playful.
How could I? Your husband vanished for a week, and you get nothing?
I have no husband, she answers calmly.
And where would he come from? Blythe laughs. There was one visitor once, a total flop. No point dwelling on that!
Tom turns crimson. Are you talking about me?! Youll pay for this, youll speak differently! I should have raised you right! I used to pity you!
He steps forward, but Blythe doesnt flinch.
A tall man emerges from the doorway, places a hand on her shoulder, and says firmly, Hey, mate, out. And do it quietly.
Whos this? A lover? Tom snarls. If you chase him away, Ill forgive you and come back! I even promise not to hit you! he declares, trying to sound generous.
Then something odd happens. Time seems to warp; Tom is suddenly sprinting as if demons chase him, with someone unseen urging him on.
Blythe stands on the porch, laughing until she cries, watching her older brother, James, chase Tom off the property. He hurls a few sharp kicks that send Tom flying toward the gate.
As soon as Tom reaches the threshold, James slams the gate shut and turns to his sister.
Blythe, dont you even think of letting that fool back in! I cant believe you ever put up with him!
Blythe sighs deeply. I was a fool, thats why I endured. I kept hoping things would change.
You dont change people, you just tie them to your neck! If you need any help around the house, call me, Ill come over. And let him know hes not welcome any longer.
What if he doesnt get the message?
Then Ill explain again, James winks, and together they step back into the house.
Inside, the remaining guests watch the scene through the windows, raising their glasses.
Heres to the birthday girl! they shout.
To the birthday girl! echoes back, and the glasses clink.
Blythe smiles. How wonderful it is to have a protective, strong older brother whos always there.
