Whos going to cook for us if you leave?
Where are you going? And who will make our meals? her husband muttered, watching Claire after a clash with her motherinlaw.
Claire stared out the window at a bleak, gray sky despite the early signs of spring. In their small northern town, sunshine was a rarity, which perhaps explained why the locals often seemed sullen and unwelcoming.
She realized she was smiling less and less. The permanent crease on her forehead made her look a decade older.
Mom! Im going out, her daughter Chloé announced.
Yes, yes, Claire replied halfheartedly.
What? Give me some money.
Are walks no longer free? she sighed.
Mom! Why are you asking that? My friends are waiting, hurry up! Why so little? Chloé snapped, irritated.
Just enough for an icecream.
Stingy! Chloé shouted, slamming the door without hearing her mothers reply.
Claire remembered the sweet little girl Chloé had been before puberty.
Claire, Im starving! Is it ready? Thierry, her husband, shouted.
Its on the table, she said indifferently.
Can you serve it to me?
Claire almost tipped the pot over. How bold
We eat in the kitchen, Thierry. If youre hungry, eat. Otherwise do as you wish, she replied, sitting alone at the table.
Fifteen minutes later Thierry entered the kitchen.
Its cold yuck.
You should have come earlier.
I asked you! No tenderness, no effort for me! You know Im watching football! he grumbled while putting chicken in the oven. Not very good.
Claire rolled her eyes. Thierry had become obsessed with footballParis tickets, pricey accessoriesdespite never having cared about sports before.
Without taking a seat, he grabbed a beer, some chips, and returned to the TV. Claire was left to clear the dishes alone.
She had cooked for nothing; no one appreciated her work.
She was exhausted after her shift as head nurse at the hospital. Every day she dealt with irritable, sick patients, endured workplace stress, and then faced the same energy at home, with endless chores piling up.
Is there any left? Thierry searched the fridge for another drink. Why isnt there any?
You drank everything! Do I also have to shop for you? Have some decency, Thierry! Claire snapped.
Youre too sensitive he muttered, slamming the fridge door and heading out to stock up before the next match.
Claire decided to go to bed because a demanding day lay ahead, but she couldnt sleep. She worried about Chloéwhere she was, who she was with.
Night had already fallen and Chloé still hadnt returned. Claire hesitated to call, fearing a scolding.
You embarrass me in front of my friends! Stop harassing me! Chloé yelled over the phone. After that, Claire stopped calling, reassuring herself that her daughter had just turned eighteen. She didnt want to work or study; she had finished school and taken a break to find herself.
Halfasleep, Claire heard her husbands triumphant shouts, likely after a goal, followed by lively chatter with a neighbor who had dropped by unexpectedly. The neighbor and his partner stayed to support their team together. Later, Chloé came home, noisily helped herself to food, then went to bed. When the house finally quieted, just as Claire was about to collapse, the cat began meowing for its dinner.
Is there anyone else in this house who can feed the cat besides me? Claire shouted, exasperated and at her wits end. She hoped someone would listen. Her daughter, earbuds in, made a mocking gesture, while Thierry was already snoring in front of the TV, a can in his hand.
Ive had enough really enough! Claire thought.
The next morning the phone rang; it was her motherinlaw.
Claire, dear, remember we have to plant the seedlings? We should also go to the countryside to do some cleaning
Yes, I know, Claire sighed.
So tomorrow we go.
She spent her only day off in the fields, under Marthes stern gaze.
No, hold the broom like that! the older woman commanded from a bench.
Im almost fifty, Marthe, I think I know how to sweep Claire dared to reply.
Oh, if only Thierry were here
Where is your Thierry? Why didnt he come help his own mother in the country? Why did we spend three hours on a bus? You always talk about Thierry, Thierry
Hes tired.
And me? Do you think Im not tired?
That was the spark. Claire regretted not staying silent. Marthe was a chatty woman who wielded a onesided sense of justice, never on Claires side. All her life, Marthe had idolized Thierry and treated Claire like a burdensome beast she tolerated only out of necessity.
They each took a separate bus home. The next day Marthe complained to her son, and he exploded.
How dare you speak to my mother that way? Thierry barked.
Because without her
Without her what? Claire crossed her arms, realizing she no longer wanted to accept such treatment.
Well, youd still be working at the dispensary! he retorted, recalling that Marthe had helped Claire land a position at the regional hospital. The salary was higher but came with stress and grey hair. Claire had often regretted leaving the quiet dispensary for that stressful hospital.
What are you doing here? Thierry interrupted, seeing what Claire was preparing.
What Claire had done was something Thierry could never even imagine.
Who’s Going to Cook for Us if You Leave?
