What do you mean nothings been made for dinner? We didnt come here for your sake! George Thompson protests, dropping his coat on the empty kitchen table.
I dont get why you put up with this, Eleanor, Emmas colleague, says, shaking her head. I would have drawn a line ages ago.
Emma sighs, stirring her coffee. The lunch break is winding down, and the chat with her friend offers no relief.
You know, sometimes it feels like Im living in a public thoroughfare, Emma pushes her cup away. Picture this: I get home after a meeting, barely able to stand, and theres my motherinlaw and her friend in the kitchen having teaas if its their place! And Andrew never even warned me.
What did you do? Eleanor asks.
What could I do? I smiled, of course. Put the kettle on and fetched some biscuits
Eleanor rolls her eyes. You trained them yourself. Youve been tolerating this for five years.
Emma rubs her temples; the throbbing headache that has haunted her lately returns.
Andrew thinks I should be happysays his parents treat me like a daughter.
Do they pop round often? Eleanor asks.
Three or four times a week, at least. Especially Georgehe loves dropping by unannounced. Hell plop into the armchair and start, Back in our day and then ask whats for dinner.
At that moment Emmas phone buzzes. Andrew has texted that his parents will be over this evening to discuss weekend plans.
Look, Emma hands the phone to Eleanor. He doesnt ask; he just states it as fact.
And the flat is yours, right? Eleanor squints.
It is. I bought it before we marriedtook out a mortgage up to my ears, three years left. I dont take a penny from Andrew. My dad used to nag, What if you divorce? Youll have to split the flat. So Im paying it myself and keep all the receipts.
And they know?
Of course. It means nothing to them. George said outright, Now this is the family nest.
The workday drags on. Emma tries to focus on reports, but her mind keeps drifting to the evening ahead. After speaking with Eleanor, something inside her cracks. She had convinced herself everything was fine, that this was how a family should work. Now she feels something different.
At six oclock she packs up and decidestonight she wont cook dinner. She will let them feel, just once, that shes a living person, not a servant.
At home she showers, changes into something comfortable, and avoids the kitchen entirely. She settles into her favourite armchair with a book shes meant to read for ages.
The doorbell rings at seven. George Thompson stands on the step, a fresh newspaper under his arm, and behind him follows Martha Thompson, clutching a bag of sunflower seeds.
Weve come to see you! Martha chirps, heading straight for the kitchen.
Emma nods silently. George, still in his street shoes, shuffles into the living room and drops into the armchair as usual.
Whats for dinner? he asks, unfolding the paper.
Nothing, Emma replies curtly.
George lowers the newspaper. Nothing? Dont just stand there like a post! Go cook something!
The front door slams as Andrew bursts in.
Hi, everyone! he calls from the hallway. Oh, Mum, Dad, youre already here!
Martha peeks out of the kitchen. Andrew, the thing is Emma didnt make anything.
Didnt make anything? Andrew frowns at his wife. You knew my parents were coming.
I knew, Emma says calmly. You told me at lunch.
So what? You couldve thrown something together. It wouldnt be the first time.
Emma watches her motherinlaw exchange a knowing glance with her husband.
Exactlyit wouldnt be the first, Emma rises from the armchair. Or the tenth. Im tired of being a roundtheclock cafeteria.
Martha, dear, the older woman begins.
Im not your dear! Emmas voice trembles. I have a name. I have my own life. I have my own flat, for that matter!
Emma! Andrew steps toward her. Stop the hysteria!
Hysteria? Emma lets out a bitter laugh. You call it hysteria when, for the first time in five years, I say no?
George folds his newspaper dramatically. You know, Andrew, I always said you spoiled her. Look at the result.
And you Emma turns sharply at George, then falls silent. A lump rises in her throat; her hands shake.
Whatme? he raises an eyebrow. Go on, finish what you started.
Emma clenches her fists. Five years of pentup resentment explode.
Youre used to treating my home as yours. You drop in whenever you feel like it, you give orders, you constantly demand food This is my flat! Mine! I have the right to be alone in it sometimes!
Martha throws up her hands. Andrew, do you hear? Shes throwing us out!
Emma, stop it now, Andrew grabs her elbow. Apologise to my parents.
I wont, Emma pulls free. Im done apologising for wanting a normal life, without daily visits and instructions in my own home. Im exhausted!
Andrews parents rise to leave. Martha mutters that Emma is mean and ungrateful. For a while everything is quiet, and Emma even hopes the storm has passed.
A few weeks later Andrew announces his parents will stay for a couple of days. Emma has just returned from a threeday business trip, tired and drained by endless meetings.
Andrew, I just got off the plane. I need to rest, to pull myself together
You know how much they love coming here, Andrew says, eyes glued to his phone.
They just love eating for free, flashes through Emmas mind, but she says nothing.
The parents arrive in the evening with two huge suitcases. The sheer amount of luggage puts Emma on edge.
George heads straight to the living room and cranks the TV up. Martha, coat still on, drifts into the kitchen.
Emma dear, were famished after the road. Come on, make something quick.
Im working, Emma says, eyes on her laptop. My deadlines breathing down my neck.
Working, she says, Martha snorts. You could make an effort for your husbands parents.
From the lounge George shouts, By the way, Emma, could you help me with my phone? The internets acting up
I cant right now, sorry, she replies.
Shes always like this, George says loudly to Andrew. No respect for her elders.
Andrew stays silent, pretending not to hear. Emma clenches her teeth and goes back to work. Half an hour later Marthas voice erupts from the kitchen again.
Emma! How much longer are you going to pretend youre busy? Were sitting here starving!
Order delivery, Emma snaps finally. Theres a magnet on the fridge with a menu and a number.
Ugh, Martha grimaces. We prefer homemade food. In my day, daughtersinlaw
Im not your daughterinlaw from the last century! Emma slams her laptop shut. I have my own life, my own job, my own plans! Why should I drop everything whenever you need something?
Silence settles over the room, even the TV seems to dim.
Andrew, George says slowly, do you hear how your wife is speaking to us?
Emmas just tired, Andrew tries to smooth things over. Ill take care of dinner myself.
No, son, George rises. Its not about being tired. Your wife has become conceited. She thinks that because the flat is hers, she can look down on us.
You know what? Emma stands too. Yes, its my flat. And I have the right to decide who lives here and when!
Emma! Andrew puts a hand on her shoulder. You could be a little more tolerant! Theyre my family!
Leave me alone, Emma says quietly. I cant do this any longer.
Enough! Martha cuts in. Come on, start cooking if you have time to argue.
Four pairs of eyes bore into Emma, and she finally gives in.
A few days later Andrews parents finally move out. Emma hopes peace will return. Two months pass relatively calmly.
One evening, after a hard day of three backtoback meetings, traffic and a difficult client, Emma unlocks the front door. Voices and the clatter of dishes come from the kitchen. George and Martha are already settled, groceries spread on the table, pots at the ready.
Ah, there you are! George exclaims, tearing himself away from the newspaper. So, what are you making for dinner?
Emma puts down her bag. Nothing.
Andrew, standing silently by the window, looks away. George frowns. What do you mean nothing? We didnt come here for you! We came for your food! Get to the stove!
Something snaps inside Emma. All five years of humiliation, endless concessions, attempts to pleasenow she sees they meant nothing. No one ever thought of her as a person.
I see, Emma says, standing tall. So its for the food? I thought you came to see your son.
Emma, dont start, Andrew tries to intervene.
No, darling, Ill finish, Emma turns to him. This isnt a cafeteria. Not a hotel. This is my home! Mine! And I will no longer let anyone boss me around here.
Martha throws up her hands. Andrew, do you hear what shes saying?
You havent heard me for five years, Emma continues. For five years Ive cooked and tolerated your visits, and you she looks at Andrewhave never once taken my side. Not once!
Because youre wrong! Andrew snaps. Youre acting like
Like what? Emma cuts him off. Like someone whos tired of being a servant in her own home?
George stands. Wed better go. We wont get in the way of your figuring things out.
Right, Emma nods. Go. And dont come back without an invitation.
Emma! Andrew grabs her hand. Apologise. Now!
No, Emma pulls free. Enough. Choose, Andrew. Either you start respecting my boundaries or go to your parents. For good.
A heavy silence falls. Emma watches Andrew shift his gaze between her and his parents, then back again. At last he lowers his head.
Sorry, Emma. But theyre my family.
And me? Emma asks quietly. What am I?
Andrew stares at her, searching for an answer. You wont change your decision? he asks sullenly.
Emma shakes her head. She has found the strength to take control, and she isnt about to give up her freedom.
Andrew silently grabs his jacket and follows his parents out. The front door slams, and the flat grows unusually quiet. Their marriage ends.
Emma sinks onto a chair. Tears do not come; instead a strange relief washes over her, as if she has finally dropped a heavy backpack shes carried for years.
Her phone vibratesa message from Eleanor: How are you?
Emma smiles and begins to type: Can you imagine, I finally.
