“Where are you off to? And wholl cook for us?”
“What on earth are you doing? Where are you going? Whos going to make dinner now?” asked her astonished husband as he watched Antonia pack her things after yet another quarrel with his mother.
Antonia glanced out the window. A dreary, grey gloom hung over the morning, despite it being early spring. In their little northern town, sunny days were rare, and perhaps that was why the people there seemed so dour and unfriendly.
She had noticed lately how seldom she smiled, how the crease between her brows deepened, adding years to her face.
“Mum! Im going out!” called her daughter, Annie.
“Fine,” Antonia nodded.
“Fine? Give me some money, then.”
“Are walks not free anymore?” Antonia sighed.
“Mum! What kind of question is that?” Annie snapped, losing patience. “Theyre waiting for me! Hurry up! And why so little?”
“Enough for an ice cream.”
“Youre such a miser,” Annie muttered, already halfway out the door before her mother could reply.
Antonia shook her head, remembering how sweet Annie had been before adolescence took hold.
“Tosha, Im starving! Whens dinner?” barked her husband, Thomas, impatient as ever.
“Go and eat,” she replied flatly, setting a plate on the table.
“Arent you going to serve me?”
Antonia nearly dropped the pot. What nonsense
“Meals are in the kitchen, Tom. Eat if you want, or dont,” she said, sitting down to her own food without another word.
Fifteen minutes later, Thomas finally shuffled in.
“Its cold. Disgusting.”
“Take your time next time.”
“I asked you nicely! Not a shred of care or love! You know Im watching the match!” He shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth. “Tasteless.”
Antonia rolled her eyes. Football turned him into a different manbets, kits, expensive tickets. An obsession, though in his youth, hed never cared for sports.
Without sitting down, Thomas grabbed a beer to “cheer up,” a packet of crisps “for the hunger,” and stomped back to the telly. And Tosha was left in the kitchen to scrub the dirty dishes.
No one ever thanked her.
She was exhausted after her shiftshe worked as a senior nurse at the hospital. Every day, stress awaited her at work, and at home, instead of peace, she had another job: fetch, carry, clean.
“Is there anything left to drink?” Thomas rummaged through the fridge. “Why is there nothing?”
“You drank it all! Am I supposed to keep buying it for you? Have some shame, Tom!” she snapped.
“How sensitive,” he sneered, slamming the door behind him as he went to restock for the next match.
Antonia decided to sleep earlytomorrow would be another long day. But sleep wouldnt come. She worried about Annie, where she was, who she was with. Outside, it was dark, and still no sign of her. Calling only led to arguments.
“Are you trying to embarrass me in front of my friends? Stop calling!” Annie would screech into the phone. After too many such rows, Antonia stopped ringing, telling herself her daughter was eighteen now. Annie had no interest in work or studyshed finished school and wanted a break to “find herself.”
Just as she dozed off, raucous cheers from Thomas jolted her awake. Someone must have scored. Then came loud banter with the neighbour, whod “dropped by” and stayed to watch the game, bringing his girlfriend along. Around midnight, Annie clattered in, banged dishes, stomped upstairs, and went to bed. When silence finally settled, the cat began yowling for food.
“Can no one in this house feed the cat but me?” Antonia stormed out, migrained and sleepless, desperate to be heard. But Annie had headphones on and only tapped her forehead mockingly, while Thomas snored in front of the telly, beer can still in hand.
“Ive had enough I cant take this anymore!” Antonia thought.
The next morning, her mother-in-law called.
“Antonia, darling, you remember weve vegetables to plant? And the cottage needs tidying.”
“I remember,” Tosha sighed.
“Well go tomorrow.”
Her only day off, spent under her mother-in-laws watchful eye at the allotment.
“How can you sweep like that? Hold the broom properly!” the older woman barked from her perch on the bench.
“Im nearly fifty, Mrs. Vera, I think I can manage,” Antonia dared to retort.
“Thomas would never do it like that.”
“And where is your son, then? Why isnt he here? Why didnt he drive you? Why must we take a three-hour bus? And still, its always Thomas, Thomas”
“Hes overworked.”
“And Im not?”
And so it began. Antonia regretted speaking up. Vera was a woman who loved fairnessso long as it favoured her. All her life, shed praised Thomas, while Tosha was little more than a beast of burden she barely tolerated.
The women rode home at opposite ends of the bus. The next day, Vera complained to her son, and Thomas erupted.
“How dare you raise your voice at my mother?” he thundered. “If it werent for her”
“What?” Antonia folded her arms. She knew she wouldnt endure this much longer.
“Youd still be at the clinic!” he shot back, reminding her that Vera had secured her the hospital jobbetter pay, but at the cost of her peace and grey hairs. More than once, Tosha had regretted leaving the quiet clinic.
“What are you doing?” Thomas fell silent, stunned by what Antonia did next.
For once, Tosha had done something he never expected.
