What do you mean theres nothing for dinner? We didnt come here for your sake! my fatherinlaw objected, taking his seat at the empty table.
I dont get why you put up with this, Lucy, Emilys colleague, said, shaking her head. I would have put my foot down ages ago.
Emily sighed, stirring her coffee. The lunch break was winding down and a chat with Lucy hadnt eased the pressure at all.
You know, sometimes it feels like Im living in a public thoroughfare, Emily said, pushing her cup aside. Picture this: I get home after a meeting, barely upright, and theres my motherinlaw and her friend in the kitchen having tea like its their place. And James never even warned me.
What did you do? I asked.
What else? I smiled, turned on the kettle, fetched some biscuits
Lucy rolled her eyes. Youve been training them yourself. Youve tolerated this for five years.
Emily pressed her fingertips to her temples. The throbbing headache that had become her constant companion in recent months was back.
James thinks I should be happyhe says his parents treat me like a daughter.
Do they pop round often? Lucy pressed.
Three or four times a week at least. Especially my fatherinlawhe loves dropping by unannounced. Hell plonk himself in the armchair and start, Back in my day and then ask whats for dinner.
Just then Emilys phone buzzed. James had texted that his parents would be over that evening to iron out weekend plans.
Here, have a look, Emily handed the phone to Lucy. He doesnt ask; he states a fact.
And the flat is yours, right? Lucy squinted.
Yes. I bought it before we marriedtook out a mortgage to my ears, three years left to pay. I dont take a penny from James. My dad kept nagging, If you divorce youll have to split the house. So Im footing the bill myself and keep every receipt.
They know that? Lucy asked.
Of course they do. It means nothing to them. George bluntly said, Now this is the family nest.
The workday dragged on. Emily tried to concentrate on reports, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the evening ahead. After talking with Lucy, something inside her cracked. She had convinced herself everything was fine, that this was how a family should function, but now
At six, she packed up and decided she wouldnt cook tonight. Let them feel, for once, that she was a person, not a servant.
When she got home she headed straight for the shower, changed into something comfortable and avoided the kitchen altogether. She sank into her favourite armchair with a book shed meant to read for ages.
The doorbell rang at seven. On the doorstep stood George, newspaper tucked under his arm, followed by Margaret, his wife, clutching a bag of sunflower seeds.
Weve come to see you! Margaret announced cheerfully, marching straight for the kitchen.
Emily gave a silent nod. George, still in his street shoes, drifted into the sitting room and plonked himself in the armchair as usual.
Whats for dinner? he asked, unfolding the paper.
Nothing, Emily replied tersely.
George lowered the paper. Nothing? Dont just stand there like a statue! Get something on the stove!
The front door slammed as James burst in.
Hey, everyone! he called from the hallway. Oh, Mum, Dad, youre already here!
Margaret peeked out of the kitchen. James, the thing is Emily didnt make anything.
Didnt make anything? James frowned, looking at his wife. You knew my parents were coming.
I knew, Emily said calmly. You told me at lunch.
So what? You could have thrown something together. Its not the first time.
Emily saw Margaret exchange a knowing glance with James.
Exactlyit wouldnt be the first, Emily stood from the armchair. Or the tenth. Im sick of being a 24hour cafeteria.
Dear, what are you saying Margaret began.
Im not your dear! Emilys voice trembled. I have a name. I have my own life. I even own this flat!
Emily! James stepped toward his wife. Stop the hysteria!
Hysteria? Emily let out a bitter laugh. You call it hysteria when, for the first time in five years, I say no?
George dramatically folded his newspaper. You know, James, I always said youd spoil her. Look where thats got us.
And you Emily turned sharply at George, then fell silent. A lump rose in her throat; her hands shook.
Whatme? he raised an eyebrow. Go on, finish what you started.
Emily clenched her fists. Five years of pentup resentment surged to the surface.
You treat my home as yours. You come whenever you feel like it, bark orders, demand food But this is my flat! Mine! I have the right to be alone sometimes!
Margaret threw up her hands. James, can you hear? Shes throwing us out!
Emily, stop this right now, James grabbed her elbow. Apologise to my parents.
I wont, Emily pulled free. Im done apologising for wanting a normal life, without daily visits and constant instructions in my own house. Im exhausted!
Jamess parents gathered their things to leave. Margaret muttered that Emily was mean and ungrateful. For a moment the house fell quiet and Emily hoped the storm had passed.
A few weeks later James announced his parents would stay for a couple of days. Emily had just returned from a threeday business triptired, drained by endless meetings.
James, I just landed. I need to rest, to collect myself
You know how much they love popping round, James said, not looking up from his phone.
They love eating for free, flickered through Emilys mind, but she kept quiet.
The parents arrived that evening with two massive suitcases. The sheer amount of luggage set Emilys alarm bells ringing.
George headed straight for the living room and cranked the TV to full blast. Margaret, coat still on, stalked into the kitchen.
Emily dear, were famished after the road. Make something quick, she said.
Im working, Emily replied, eyes on her laptop. My deadline is looming.
Working, she says, Margaret snorted. You could make an effort for your husbands parents.
From the lounge, Georges voice boomed: By the way, about workEmily, could you help me with my phone? The internets gone
I cant now, sorry.
Shes always like this, George shouted at his son. No respect for his elders.
James stayed silent, pretending not to hear. Emily clenched her teeth and went back to the screen. Half an hour later Margarets voice cut through the kitchen again:
Emily! How much longer are you pretending youre busy? Were starving!
Order in, Emily snapped finally. Theres a magnet on the fridge with a takeaway number.
Ugh, Margaret grimaced. We prefer homemade. In my day, daughtersinlaw
Im not your 1950s daughterinlaw! Emily slammed her laptop shut. I have a life, a job, plans! Why should I drop everything every time you need something?
Silence fell. Even the TV seemed to dim.
James, George said slowly, do you hear how your wife is speaking to us?
Emilys just tired, James tried to smooth things over. Ill sort dinner myself.
No, son, George rose, its not about being tired. Your wifes become arrogant. She thinks because the flat is hers she can look down on us.
You know what? Emily stood too. Yes, its my flat. I decide who lives here and when!
Emily! James placed a hand on her shoulder. You could be a bit more tolerant! Theyre my family!
Leave me alone, Emily whispered. I cant keep doing this.
Enough! Margaret snapped. Start cooking if youve got time to argue.
Four sets of eyes bore into Emily. She gave in.
A few days later Jamess parents finally moved out. Emily hoped peace would return. For two months things were relatively calm.
One evening, after a particularly brutal day of backtoback meetings, traffic and a difficult client, Emily turned the key in the lock and froze on the landing.
Voices and clattering dishes floated from the kitchen. George and Margaret were already setting themselves upgroceries spread on the table, pots at the ready.
Ah, there you are! George shouted, tearing his eyes away from the newspaper. What are you making for dinner?
Emily set her bag down slowly. Nothing.
James, standing by the window, looked away. George frowned.
What do you mean, nothing? We didnt come here for you! We came for your food! Get to the stove!
Something snapped inside Emily. All five years of humiliation, endless concessions, attempts to pleaseit had been for nothing. No one ever saw her as a person.
I see, Emily straightened. So its all about the food? I thought you were here to see your son.
Emily, dont start, James tried to intervene.
No, darling, Im finishing, Emily turned to him. This isnt a cafeteria, not a hotel. This is my home! Mine! And Ill no longer let anyone boss me around.
Margaret threw up her hands. James, can you hear her?
You havent heard me for five years, Emily continued. For five years Ive cooked and put up with your visits, and you she looked at Jameshave never once taken my side. Not once!
Because youre wrong! James flared. Youre acting like
Like what? Emily cut him off. Like someone fed up with being a servant in her own house?
George rose. Wed better be off. We wont get in the way of you figuring things out.
Fine, Emily said. Go. And dont come back without an invitation.
Emily! James grabbed her hand. Apologise. Now!
No, Emily pulled away. Enough. Choose, James. Either you start respecting my boundaries or go back to your parents. For good.
A heavy silence settled. Emily watched James shift his gaze between her and his parents. At last he lowered his head.
Sorry, Emily. But theyre my family.
And me? Emily asked quietly. What am I?
James stared at her, searching for an answer. You wont change your mind? he asked, sullen.
Emily shook her head. She had found the strength to take control, and she wasnt about to give it up.
James slipped on his coat and followed his parents out. The front door slammed, and the flat fell unnaturally quiet. It was the end of our marriage.
Emily sank into a chair. Strangely, tears didnt come. Instead of bitterness, a strange relief flooded her, as if shed finally dropped a weight shed carried for years.
Her phone buzzeda message from Lucy: How are you?
Emily smiled and began to type: Can you imagine, I finally.
