“Well, my dear guests, have you had enough to eat? Had enough to drink? Did I treat you well?” Evelyn says, rising to the head of the long dining table.
“Yes, sister,” Brian replies, smiling, “as always youre on top of things!”
“Exactly!” Emma chimes in. “We learned to cook together as kids, but I never manage anything as tasty as this. No wonder I always ask you to cook for my celebrations!”
“Mum,” Lucy adds, “and I still cant get out of the gym! But I couldnt just stop!”
“Darling, Ill send my wife over so you can teach her to cook,” Andrew jokes.
“Thats why I married you!” Victor says, letting out a satisfied belch. “Excuse me!”
“So Ive pleased you, then!” Evelyn grins broadly. She pauses, the smile fading from her face, and says, “Now, all of you, get out of my house!”
She declares it is the last dinner she has ever prepared for them, the last time she will ever bend over backwards. She doesnt want to see or hear them again.
She grabs the massive salad bowl from the table and, with a burst of fury, hurls it onto the floor.
“Enough, you little brats! The dancing stops now,” she says with a hardened grin. “I wont let anyone ride on my back any longerespecially not you!”
Silence hangs over the table, the guests frozen in shock. No one expected such a move from Evelyn, the calm, helpful, obedient one.
“Are you serious?” Victor asks, receiving an instant slap from his wife.
“Call an ambulance, shes having a mental break!” Emma cries.
Evelyn lifts the decanter, the last of the wine glinting inside.
“Whoever reaches for the phone will get a taste of this!” she says, smiling sweetly. “Why are you all standing still? Get up and run! Youre my insatiable whelps!”
“Evelyn!” Brian commands sternly. “Im speaking as an older brother: calm down and pull yourself together!”
“No!” Evelyn replies, still smiling. “Im done serving you! I wont please you any longer! I wont rush around because someone cant do anything themselves! Thats itenough!”
“Whats gotten into you?” Victor asks, rubbing his reddened cheek. “Everything was fine!”
“I didnt gather you all without reason,” Evelyn says, reclining in her chair. “Your arrogance has crossed every lineby now, for far too long! Your last protest only shows how bold youve become. I no longer want you in my life!”
“Well, we didnt do anything wrong,” Andrew mutters. “Exactly, son!”
***
People say you have to live life correctly, and you cant argue with that. But what does correctly really mean? Everyone has their own opinion.
Evelyn, now fortyfive, has lived believing shes done everything right. At worst, she could only blame herself.
She was the third child, with an older brother and a younger sister. Her parents adored her, she adored her brother, and got along with her sister. She finished school, got a job, never dreamed of fame, never chased after a tail.
She married, had two children, was a loyal and loving wife, supported her husband, never argued without cause. She was a good mother, raised and educated her kids, and sent them out into the world.
Even as an adult she kept in touch with her brother and sisterhelping, celebrating, solving problems, sharing joys. They called her kind, caring, smart, and understanding.
So Evelyn thought shed lived correctlyuntil, at fortyfive, she discovers what it feels like to be abandoned in a bleak moment.
***
“Ms. Evelyn Harper,” the doctor says after lunch, “all your tests are back, no contraindications. Shall we schedule the operation?”
“Of course, doctor,” Evelyn replies wistfully, “the decisions already made.”
“I understand,” the doctor notes, seeing her gloom, “but you never know”
“Schedule it,” Evelyn waves her hand. “The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”
“Alright,” the doctor writes in the chart. “Youll have dinner tonight, nothing tomorrow, and the operation the day after.”
He turns to the woman in the next bed. “Claire, your results arent all clear; well need to look into them.”
“Okay, Dr. Oleg,” Claire says.
When the doctor leaves, he asks Evelyn, “Why so down? Afraid of the surgery?”
“That too,” Evelyn nods. “My husband,” she glances at her phone.
“Well, my boyfriend sent me a song,” Claire laughs. “I figure the kids will go to their mother and Ill throw a little party. Nothing big, Ill get back to work. Maybe yours went off on a solo trip?”
“According to his last voice message, hes already back to full height,” Evelyn says, pursing her lips. “He knows I have an operation! He should at least support me. Instead, hes out with his mates, drinking!”
“Ah, men are all the same,” Claire sighs. “Cats at home, mice dancing!”
“Its still hurtful,” Evelyn replies. “A hysterectomy is serious. A little support would mean the world. Ive told him Im scared and need him now. He barely texts after I left, and sometimes doesnt answer at all!”
Claire, ten years Evelyns junior, lacks the experience to comfort her, so the conversation dwindles.
Evelyn skips dinner, taking nothing with her because she knows she must fast before surgery. She lies quiet, staring at the ceiling, remembering the time Vasily broke his leg in two places at work. Shed been visiting him daily, bringing homecooked meals, clean clothes, staying with him until midnight. When he was released, she took a short leave to help, running like a hamster in a wheel, never refusing her husbands requestsbringing water, feeding from a spoon, washing, shaving, combing.
“Why does he treat me like this?” Evelyn asks when Claire returns from her own dinner.
“Not just yours!” Claire grins. “Everyones the sameconsumers! Do they teach them at school how to sit on a ladys lap?”
“I pushed my career for three years through acquaintances, got a fatter spot, and he still doesnt like it. He only started working after I threatened divorce and alimony!”
“My husband works,” Evelyn says.
“Your man has his own quirks,” Claire gestures. “All they areexploiter types! If you dont tie them down fast, theyll sit on your neck, shake your legs, and run off!”
Evelyn wonders, “Am I overreacting? Is my anxiety about the operation making me overthink?”
“Both can coexist,” Claire answers. “The fact you hear no kind words from him is obvious! Mine, at least, brings me fruit juices, calls, and sends heart emojis.”
Evelyn turns away, pulling the blanket over her head.
***
Going a whole day without food, even when you need it, is tough. Evelyn plans to distract herself with chat, but the lab tests and scans keep pulling her away, and Claire appears only in brief bursts.
Phone in hand, she thinks, “Relatives wont refuse a chat to pass the time.”
Her son Andrew doesnt answer, just texts that hell call back. Her daughter Lucy misses two calls, then her number becomes unavailable.
“Good kids,” Evelyn mutters, bewildered.
“Not answering?” Claire asks between tests.
“Can you imagine?” Evelyn sighs. “Is it that hard to answer mum?”
“Adults?” Claire teases. “They even live on their own.”
“Fine, mum, forget it. Youll only hear from them when you need something! Theyve fled the nest; a gust of wind might bring them back!”
“My eldest is sixteen; he doesnt even think of me anymore. If they live apart, parents become unnecessary. Good if they show up for a funeral!”
“No, we have a great relationship!” Evelyn insists.
“So why dont they pick up?” Claire wonders as she walks away, leaving Evelyn to think.
“Really, is it so hard to find a minute to talk to your mother? Lately all their visits are about moneyno loans, just begging.”
***
Its deeply sad. Claire says it right: The chicks have flown. Now they live their own lives, remembering parents only when they need something.
Evelyn dials her husband again. No answer. She leaves a message that stays unread.
“Oh, VasilyVasily!” she mutters. “If only youd have shown up sooner!”
By evening he finally texts: “Where are our savings? Salarys finished, we have nothing!”
His last paycheck arrived three days ago.
“Well!” Evelyn thinks, “A feast of cake, wine flowing like a river!”
She doesnt reply. If hed even hinted he worried about her, she might have said something, but she lets him sort it out himself.
***
Brother Brian answers her call, then says hes busy and hangs up.
“Typical, hes busy,” Evelyn says.
Claire isnt there, so Evelyn doesnt get a retort. She recalls the halfyear she lived in two houses after Brians wife left him, abandoning the children. Evelyn cared for those kids, acted as mum, cook, cleaner, and everything until Brian found a new partner. She had to smooth over conflicts because Brian demanded love for his children, while she wanted love for hers, and his were a burden.
“Ive been mediating for a year and a half, and not a single thankyou came. And now hes busy again,” she reflects. When she called him back that evening, only brief beeps and a click.
“Thanks for the black list, brother!” she mutters. He also knows about her upcoming operation. When he asked to take the kids for a month, Evelyn refused, citing the surgery.
***
Sister Emma gives Evelyn only five minutes, barely asking about her health.
“When will you be fit again? My husbands relatives are comingabout ten people. Well put them in a hotel, but they need feeding at home, and we need to do it in style! Youre our only hope!”
“I dont know, Emma,” Evelyn answers. “The operation is tough. Two to three weeks in hospital, then a recovery sick leave. Doctors say up to fifty days.”
“No, no, sister! Things dont work like that! You need to be back in three weeks, sharp as a sword! Its my husbands family, theyre priority!”
“Emma, Im scared,” Evelyn admits.
“Come on, stop whining! Chitchat and off you go! Ive got to run!”
She feels the sting of the phrase chitchat and off you go.
“Does it matter that the operation is delicate? Complications could happen! Who knows what! I need a cooksomeone who can handle a 50yearold without learning to cook!”
Emma constantly calls the younger sister to make her cater for her guestscolleagues, husbands friends, any celebration.
So Evelyn stays away from the stove for days, yet never gets invited to anyones table.
“Whats that?” Emma snaps. “Its a strangers party!”
Evelyns effort for that party wasnt even considered.
The operation goes smoothly, but the hospital keeps her two more weeks. She refuses to call anyone, waiting for someone to remember her. No one does: not husband, not children, not brother or sister.
She ponders until she reaches a decisive moment.
***
“Yulka, what nonsense are you spouting?” Brian shouts. “Did they remove your uterus and a piece of your brain?”
“You remembered!” Evelyn laughs. “I thought no one would ever recall me!”
She stands again at the head of the table.
“Listen, my dear relatives! Ive spent two weeks in hospital, and not a single soul bothered to ask how I am!”
No one! Not the brother whose kids love him more than a new mother. Not the sister whos used her all her life as a free cook. Not the beloved husband who managed to spend not only his salary but also all the savings wed been putting away for a cottage. Not the children I gave life to! Not a single call!
A hush of outrage hangs over the room.
“Ive always been ready to do whatever you needed. And now, when I need even a simple gesture of presence, youre nowhere!”
She decides she can handle things herself, but she wont be the errand runner any longer.
She addresses each one in turn:
“Vasily, divorce without a word! Pack your stuff and get out of my flat!”
“Children, live your own lives! If you ever need help, ask dad. Youve lost your mother!”
“And you, Brian and Emma, Im done seeing you! Hire nannies and cooks elsewhere!”
“Are you serious? Are you normal?” relatives shout.
The family rises together, lining up, all heading for the door. “Enough!” Evelyn commands. “Im finally going to live for myself, not for you!”
Boom!
Left alone in the flat, Evelyn sits at the cleared table and says, “I went over the edge,” glancing at the shattered salad bowl. “Ill start a new life with a new bowl.”
