I Don’t Want To
Its all on me already! How much more can I take? Emilys voice trembles with frustration.
Her husband, Simon, stays silent, slipping into his usual way of dealing with anything difficult: hoping itll all sort itself out if he just ignores it long enough. But, of course, things rarely sort themselves outEmily is always left to pick up the pieces.
She works from home, doing design jobs on her computer. The schedule is flexible, and while the pay started off modest, over time Emily undertook extra courses and her wages increasednow she earns far more than Simon. Its her salary that pays the car finance, their holidays, the new washing machine, their clothes. Then came maternity leave. Emily managed to keep working, even through her pregnancy, determined not to lose that steady income.
Once their little boy, Oliver, was old enough for nursery, things brightened slightly, and Emily, buoyed by relief, poured even more energy into her work. Of course, the nursery fees were another expense, but shed chosen it carefully, wanting nothing but the best for her son. As usual, Simon left all these decisions to Emilyjust as he did with most things.
Their home is a flat that Emily inherited from her grandmother. Simon never had property of his own; before they married, he lived in Croydon with his mum, Barbara, and his niece, Rebecca, his late older sisters daughter. Rebeccas mum died unexpectedly three years ago, and the shock took its toll on Barbara, whose health began failing. Her blood pressure soared, leaving her increasingly frail.
By the time Simon and Emily married and Simon moved out, Rebecca was well into university, busy with a life of her owntravelling, meeting friends, never turning down new experiences, and rarely at home. Barbara turned to Simons new family with her troublesthough really, it was Emily who fielded her concerns. Simons help was minimal. As for granddaughter Rebecca, Barbara always found the means to pay for everything she wantedafter all, she was an orphan, and her late daughter had raised her alone. Barbara didnt enjoy discussing itthere were just too many unhappy memories.
That was how things went, until Barbara was rushed to hospital after a severe spike in blood pressure. Her recovery was partialdoctors wouldnt promise more. After three weeks she was discharged, but still bedridden and in need of constant care.
As before, Simon distanced himself, leaving Emily to shoulder the responsibility.
Women are just better at these things, anyway, Simon says, palms up defensively.
At what things? Emilys voice sharpens.
You know looking after people caring stuff rehabilitation and that sort of thing, Simon replies, scratching his head.
Im a designer, not a nurse. I dont have any more clue than you, sighs Emily, Fine. Ill go talk to the doctor.
Emily and Barbara had kept a courteous truce. Early on, clashes were frequentbut, not living together, they learned to bite their tongues. Emily endured Barbara out of politeness. Barbara, for her part, accepted Emily, recognising she was an excellent wife and her son was hardly a breadwinnertheir household ran on Emilys income.
Barbara rarely saw Oliver; her health always seemed to prevent it, and whenever a few hours of babysitting were needed, her aches or migraines would suddenly flare up. Relying on her for help was out of the question.
Suddenly though, everyone turned to Emily. She collected Barbara from hospital (You work from home, you can pop out anytime, Simon cant just leave work, she was reminded) and took her back home. It was decided the whole family would move into Barbaras place temporarily to help care for her.
So they moved in. In just three weeks, Emily dropped so much weight she looked like a coatrack. Somehow, she kept her job going while also cooking broths, pureeing fruit and veg, feeding Barbara by hand, washing her, turning her in bed.
Rebecca, the beloved granddaughter, would wrinkle her nose, slip quietly into her room, and scarcely appear except at night. At dawn, off to university then out with friends. Life trundled along. A grandmother is a grandmother, but its not her problem.
Simon barely helped. Emily tried to appeal to his sense of duty:
Shes your mum! Give me a hand. I cant do this all alone!
I I just cant Its womens work anyway, Simon mumbles. I did a shop, got the groceries. What more do you want?
Womens work was backbreaking. Barbara wasnt improving. She complained constantly, snapping at Emily, at Simon, at everyone, and saying things Emily knew shed never have heard before Barbara fell ill. Emily learned a lot about herself, supposedly. According to her mother-in-law, Emily was simply staggeringly luckyblessed to have such a good education, to land a comfortable job working from home, sipping tea, tapping away at the computer, earning more than most men. Poor Simon, on the other hand, unlucky from the start: teachers who held him back, a failed attempt at university entry. Barbara tightened the purse strings, took out a loan to pay Simons tuition fees, but he scraped throughor nearly didnt, more than once. All down, Barbara claimed, to terrible teachers in childhood.
Then there was her daughter whod died, and Rebecca, who had to get through her A-levels and into universitythat, at least, she managed on a grant and scholarship, which Barbara was proud of. Proof, she insisted, of the difference teaching can make.
Emily heard the same old story, over and over, growing more weary with each retelling. Everyone was a hero. Except her. Shed just got lucky.
Lucky especially with Simon, Emily would silently sigh, What did I ever see in him? Where were my eyes? She found herself thinking it more often. One day, she suggested hiring a proper carer for Barbara and moving back to their own flat.
A carer? Simon stared in disbelief, That costs a fortune I cant afford that. If you want one, youll have to pay.
Thered always been an agreement: Simon covered council tax and utilities and bought most essential groceries. Emily paid for everything else. So, hiring a carer? Her expense, obviously. Its just common sense, isnt it? thought Emily, anger rising. But the way he said it! Do I owe everyone here? Enough. I have a right to a life too. Right now, Im just a shadow of myself, and no one cares.
At some point, Emily realized shed had enough. One afternoon, telling Barbara she was going to the shops, she quietly collected Oliver from nursery and took him back to their own flat.
It feels wonderful she thought, sinking onto her own big bed, staring at the ceiling. Im home! I dont want anything. Just to lie here. Im shattered
She called Oliver for tea. They sat eating, and Emily imagined Barbara and the rest would soon notice her absence. She hadnt abandoned Barbara, after all; shed left her fed and changed, and Simon was due home in an hour and a half. She left Simon a note, explaining she couldnt and wouldnt return; she wished Barbara a speedy recovery, and said, gently, that she hoped she wouldnt take it personally.
Emily switched off her phone.
Simon raced over that evening. She refused to let him in, speaking only through the half-open door. There was nothing more to say. He didnt ask after Emily herself, nor question why she lefthe said nothing about love for her or Oliver. He only worried about how hed cope without her.
I really suggest you hire a carer, Emily said pointedly. Professional care is bestand besides, Im filing for divorce. Im not going to be everyones packhorse. Goodbye.
Simon left empty-handed. Later, Emily turned on her phonefor work calls, after all.
Barbara rang, asking Emily to come back, apologising for her words, saying she couldnt manage without her and Simon. There was something haughty about her tone, thougha challenge, almost: hurry up and forgive us and come back to your duty.
Emily calmly replied that she owed nothing. Barbara had a son and a clever granddaughter, Rebecca, to depend onwhy not lean on them? Barbara hung up.
The divorce went through.
And so, unexpectedly, Emily found herself single. But as she realised, nothing much changed. She did everything herself beforenow, she simply had fewer burdens, for which she was quietly grateful.
Barbara, in the meantime, began to recoverthanks to an excellent carer who not only looked after her but helped with her rehab exercises. Simon found himself a second job (Funny, so he could do it after all, Emily thought wryly, hearing the news from Rebecca one day), and paid for the carer. Before the carer arrived, Rebecca looked after Barbarafeeding, keeping her company; it turned out she could manage just fine.
Well, its probably for the best for everyone, mused Emily, taking on a new project at her computer. Getting everyone off my back has definitely worked in my favour. Next time, Ill be wiserShe leaned back in her chair, sunlight pouring through her kitchen window. Oliver giggled in the next room, his laughter bright in the quiet of their flat. For the first time in months, Emily exhaled without tension pulling at her chest. She brewed herself a cup of tea and took it to the balcony, watching the city turn gold as dusk settled.
The boundaries shed drawnonce so frighteninghad become a line of freedom, not exile. Old friends, seeing she was herself again, called to reconnect. Oliver crawled into her lap, chattering about dinosaurs and picture books, and she realized there were small joys in days uncluttered by other peoples crises.
A week later, as she walked with Oliver through the park, Rebecca callednot to ask for help, but to thank her. Its hard sometimes, Rebecca admitted. But Im managing. I wish wed made more room for you, Emily. I really do.
Emily understood. There were things you couldnt make room for until someone left space for themselves.
That evening, as Oliver drifted off to sleep, Emily sat by his bed, running her fingers gently through his hair. She whispered, just to herself, From now on, I choose what I carry. Only what I want, and nothing more.
Outside, the world kept on with its noise and needs, but Emilys flat was peacefulfilled only with laughter, possibility, and a growing sense of her own worth. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she didnt want to run, fix, or prove herself.
She simply wanted to be.
And at last, that was enough.
