Dear Diary,
I never thought a birthday could turn into a battlefield, but here I am, licking my wounds from last nights storm and coming to some tough realisations.
It all started with the crystal bowl, if you can believe. I caught Sam in the dining room, clutching that dreadful old salad bowlhis ex-wifes favourite, apparentlyand trying to find it a place on my beautifully laid table. I tried to keep my voice calm, even as every nerve in me fizzed with resentment. Sam, I told you that bowl doesnt go with our dinner set. Please put it away. I fussed with my apron, feeling idiotic and unappreciated.
He smiled, sheepishly enough to make me want to throw the cucumber I was cutting right at him. Emily, does it really matter? Louise always said this bowl made everything look festive. If the boys want us all together, cant we try to make it comfortable for everyone?
There I was, knife mid-air, cucumber half-diced, pushing anger down so I wouldnt shout. I held Sams gaze and said, very quietly, Let me get this straight, darling. Ive been prepping for this party in my own house, losing sleep over roasting meats, icing cakes, and scrubbing floors, and you want me to decorate with a tacky bowl for your exs sake? Do you honestly think thats reasonable?
Sam sat, shoulders drooped, like hed aged ten years in a minute. Em, please. You know what the twins wanted. Its their 20th, a big birthday. They said having both mum and dad there mattered to them. What was I supposed to do? Tell Louise shes not welcome? Its one evening. Well cut cake and go our ways. Cant we just try not to argue, for their sake? Youre always the wise one.
Wise. Meaning, of course, the woman who keeps quiet, smooths over every awkward moment, smiles while others stomp all over her boundaries.
Five years married. I took Sam, baggage and all: his alimony, the weekend visits, the awkward family diary revolving around the twins, Oliver and Ben. Never once did I stand in the way of their time together. The boys and I get on fine, friendly enough. But Louise? Shes another beast entirelyloud as a foghorn and convinced Sam is still her property, just lent out to me by unfortunate circumstance.
I dont mind your boys, Sam. And if inviting Louise is what you decided, then so be it, even though most people would throw this sort of do in a restaurant, not drag everyone into the current wifes house. But must I hospitality according to her tastes? Should I pop on her preferred dress while Im at it? Maybe a hairstyle to match?
Youre being over the top, Sam said, with a wave, standing to shift the offending bowl. Fine, Ill put it away. Head up, now. The lads will be here in an hourwith Louise, as her cars bust. Lets not make things awkward.
He gave me the most perfunctory peck on the cheek and vanished to shave, leaving me there, drowning in pots and trays, trying not to see the whole spread as a memorial meal for my own dignity.
An hour on, and the hall filled with laughter, heavy footfall, the brash welcome Louise has always made her trademark. There she was, a flash of lipstick-red dress, hair lacquered like shed joined some reality show, flanked by Oliver and Ben, nearly two metres tall now, squeezing out of their parkas. It couldnt have felt more claustrophobic.
Hullo, Emily, Louise tossed my way, scanning the room for Sam, already barking, Sam, come help with these jars! Ive brought all the trimmings!
Sam appeared, hyperactive and beaming. Happy birthday, boys! he hugged them, then turned to Louise, Whyd you bring jars? Were groaning here.
She snorted, ignoring both me and the spread Id planned. Oh, I know what Sam calls a spread. Emilys probably whipped up some healthy stuffno salt, no fat. But the boys need proper food. So Ive brought my best: pickles, homemade chutney, mushroom relishand, of course, my famous pork jelly, not that tasteless chicken thing you tried last time, Emily.
My cheeks burned. Even last time, when Louise turned up, it was all criticismnothing was ever quite good enough.
Hello, Louise, I managed, formal and cold. Do come in. Theres plenty of food, I assure you. And tonights jelly is beefclear as crystal.
Lets see if it passes muster, Louise huffed, striding right through to the sitting room, not bothering about pleasantries or permission. Oh, you still havent replaced the sofa? Sam, I said last year, its dreary and old-fashioned. These curtains… Honestly. In our house, remember, I always had light, airy lace.
Sam trailed her, cradling those damn jars.
We like it, Louise, he said, quietly. Its cosy.
Cosy is when it feels like home, Louise declared, dropping herself onto what she deemed a terrible sofa. Boys, go wash your hands! Emily, are you just going to stand there? Come on, times ticking.
My fist clenched so tightly my nails marked my palms. I told myself, Steady, Emily. Youre doing this for Sam. For the twins. Dont spoil their night.
I retreated to the kitchen in silence. Within minutes, Sam joined me, whispering, Dont mind her, love, you know how she is. Just bossy. Ill help bring the food.
No need, I replied, slicing off any warmth.
Dinner was a disaster. Louise commandeered the seat beside Sam, their elbows nearly touching. The twins slouched opposite, glued to their phones. I was relegated to the end, as if I were staff sneakily resting.
To my fine sons! Sam toasted. Twenty yearsgone in a flash!
Remember the day you drove me to the hospital, Sam? Louise cut in, reminiscing at top volume. Ill never forget itsheet ice everywhere, our old Vauxhall stuck, you running round in your shirt, looking panicked! And then bellowing outside, Who is it? Who?! Honestly, what a sight!
She laughed, bold and theatrical, hand plopping onto Sams shoulder. He lapped it up, lost in nostalgia.
The stories kept on, each one about their shared pastthe holidays in Cornwall, wallpaper disasters, Sams broken leg and Louise feeding him soup. I might as well have been invisible.
Then, mid-bite, Louise piped up: Salads far too salty tonight, Emily. Are you lovesick? You know, they say people salt their food when theyre in love. Who for, your own husband? Oh, Im teasing! Sam, try my jellynow thats flavour! Loads of garlic.
She reached right across, shoving her jelly atop Sams plate, on top of my carefully made casserole. I found myself boiling over.
Louise, take your hand off my husbands plate, please. And remove your jelly. Theres plenty of food here already, I said, icy.
Whats your problem? Louise shot back.
I repeated: I said, leave my husbands plate alone. And take the jelly. I cooked for everyone, thats enough.
An awkward hush fell. Even the twins looked up. Sam blinked at me, lost.
Emily, honestly, she was just being friendly…
Friendly, Sam? Is it friendly to parade old stories and undermine everything I do? Do you laugh when she mocks our furniture, our food, your own wife?
Oh, just drop the drama, Louise snorted. Have a sense of humour. I only ever try to help!
I dont need your advice, Louise. I dont need your company. I put up with this for Sam and for his sons. But you all seem perfectly content to party without me. Youve got your nostalgia, your banter, your old Vauxhall and cosy holidays. Im just the waitress, supposed to serve and then disappear.
Sam tried to grab my handno chance. Emily, dont go, youre misunderstanding
Carry on with the memories. I wont be in the way.
I walked out, her stage-whisper following: Typical hysterics. I warned you, Sam. Shes not your match, too much of a sense of self.
In my bedroom, I packed a small overnight bag with essentialsmakeup, change of clothes, pyjamas, my iPad. I swapped my party dress for jeans and a jumper, ordered a taxiseven minutes away.
Back in the hallway, shoes on, coat over my arm, I heard laughter from the living roomthe evening was still in full swing. Im not sure anyone realised Id actually gone. Probably thought Id cry into a pillow and rally.
I looked into the room. Im leaving, I announced, loud and firm.
They stopped. Sam stared at me, glass in hand. Where to? Bakers for more bread?
No, Sam. Im going to a hotel. Tonights my celebration as wella night free of rudeness and lack of respect. Carry on with your old gang. Theres enough food in the fridge, cake on the balcony. The dishwashers ready and waitingtablets beneath the sink. Maybe Louise can show off her dishwashing skills tonight.
Sam leapt up, spilling vodka over the cloth. Emily, this is ridiculouswhere will you stay? Its late, there are guests!
Theyre your guests, not mine. Goodnight, boys. Happy birthday.
I shut the door behind me, drowning out Sams protests, Louises clucking.
The drive to the hotel was oddly peaceful, the city lights blurring by. Once settled, I called the swishest spa hotel in town: Good evening, is there a suite or executive room free? Perfect. Ill be there in twenty minutes. Please have some champagne and a platter of fruit ready. Book me in for an early morning massage, too.
My room smelled of expensive perfume and tranquillityno oily onions, no kitchen clatter, no voices intrusive or unwelcome. After a hot shower, I curled into a fluffy robe, poured myself a flute of cool fizz and took in the view over the city, golden and impersonal.
My phone vibrated all through the cab ride, but Id muted it. Now, glancing at the screen: fifteen missed calls from Sam, three texts.
What are you playing at?
Come back, youre embarrassing me!
This isnt funny, Louise is in shock.
I laughed, then turned it off altogether. I sipped champagne for freedom. I didnt need to care if the roast pleased everyone, or if the TV was too loud, or if Samd be cross. For once, I could simply be.
Next morning, the sunlight woke me. After a decadent breakfastEggs Benedict, croissants, fresh coffeeI took my massage, swam a few lengths, then extended my stay another night. Why should I rush back?
It was late the next day when I finally checked my phone. More messagesall softer, apologetic.
Emily, where are you? Im worried.
The boys left right after you. Said it was a circus.
Louise went home last night. Huge row.
Please answer.
I called Sam.
Emily! Thank god, are you alright? Where are you? His voice shook.
Im at the hotel, Sam. Getting some rest, I said.
Im sorry! I was an idiot. I ruined everything.
Tell me, then, I said, flatly. Howd the reunion of the family turn out?
A disaster. Just awful. When you left, Ben stood up and said, Well, youre quite the pair. Mums a bully, Dads a wimp. Emilys normal, but you drove her off. Then he and Oliver left, didnt touch the cake.
I felt a purer satisfaction than any homemade dessert could give. At least the twins saw through it.
And after?
Louise went for me. Called the boys ungrateful, blamed you for everything, ordered me around to clear up. I told her to help if she fancied herself the hostess. She started shrieking, broke a plateone from your mums set.
She broke my mums china? I said, voice ice-cold.
By accident, waving her arms. I lost it, Emily. Told her to call a cab and leave. Huge blow-up. She dredged up every resentment from twenty years agolow pay, my mum, you name it. I threw her out.
Long pause from Sam, heavy breathing.
Im alone here, staring at a mess. Not cleared anything. Just cant. Please come home? I swear, never againno more exes in our house. Promise.
You havent cleaned up yet? I asked.
No, nothing. All still out.
Good. Youve till tomorrow morning for the flat to be spotless. Not a trace of Louise or her pickled onions, not her jelly. If I come back and find anythingsmell, crumbs, her perfumeIll leave for good and youll see me in court. Got it?
Crystal clear, Em. Ill sort it. Just please come. I love you. Didnt mean any harm, just wanted the boys happy…
You only ever do your best when you try to please everyone but me, Sam. Ill arrive for lunch. And if you ever let someone tear me down in my own home again, I wont be going to a hotelIll be gone for good.
I hung up and watched the citys evening glow. I felt a pang of sympathy for Samwell-meaning but spineless, forever the peacekeeper, tripping over his need to be liked. But most of all, I pitied myselfyears spent silently swallowing it all.
Never again, I decided. That little escape flicked a switch in my mind; I realised I get to be the head of my own lifenot just wise, not just useful, but strong.
When I returned the next day, lemon and detergent hung in the air. Windows thrown wide, as if flushing out every memory of last nights chaos. Sam greeted me with bleary eyes and damp hands.
I did it all, he announced, nervous. Even the curtainsthought they still smelt of hair spray.
I checked the kitchen. Spotless. No jars, no jelly. No crystal bowl.
And the bowl? I asked.
Thrown out, Sam muttered. With the rest. Never want to see it again.
I looked at my tired husband, took off my coat. Put some tea on. Lets finish off my cake. Unless you threw that out too?
He grinned, relief flooding his face, as he hugged me tight. Saved the cake, its delicious. Had a slice last night… Emily, youre the best. Forgive me, wont you?
I do, Sam. But this really is the last time.
We sat together with tea and cake, and I realised: sometimes you save a marriage by leaving for a spell. An empty chair at the table can say more than any words. And just maybe, it reminds everyone exactly who you are.
