Help for His Mother
Samuel, I understand everything, but I was not hired as your mother’s cook, Emily hissed indignantly, tossing a tin of peas into the shopping trolley. Honestly, I want to drop all this, jump in the car, and drive home. You promised me a quiet family evening for three, but now were cooking for a whole regiment of relatives while your mother just sits! How is that fair?
Samuel shamefully hunched his shoulders and looked away, pretending to be very interested in the ingredients of the crab sticks. He looked decidedly like a guilty dog caught at the scene.
Em, please, not so loud, people are watching he mumbled, trying to take her elbow, but she snatched her arm away. Mum misjudged her stamina a bit, it happens. Lets just buy everything on the list, head back, and finish these blasted salads. Bear with it, just for my sake, and for the occasion.
Miscalculated. What a charming expression.
Emily gritted her teeth in frustration. She knew perfectly well that his mother had calculated everything just fine.
It all began a week earlier with a phone call. Mrs. Margaret Williams rang to wish the young couple a Happy New Year, and suddenly decided to invite them over.
My dears, cooed his mother in a syrupy tone that could give you high blood sugar by just listening. Why dont you come round for Christmas? Ive missed you so much! Well spend a nice family evening the three of us, reminisce, chat. It does get lonely, all alone within these four walls.
Emily was immediately uneasy. She sensed trouble. Those quiet family gatherings always ended in the same way an interrogation about grandchildren.
When Mrs. Williams first brought the subject up, Emily and Samuel werent even married.
Emily, have you thought about children yet? she suddenly asked when they were alone.
Emily was rather taken aback.
Well she stammered, scrambling for an answer. I want children, but not just yet. And were only dating.
Oh, Emily, a stamp in your passport hardly stops children, Mrs. Williams waved her hand dismissively. But age does The clocks ticking, youre not getting any younger. And neither am I What if I pass without seeing my grandchildren?
Early on, Emily would dodge and joke, then she started snapping back. Eventually, almost subconsciously, she began avoiding meetings with her mother-in-law to preserve her own nerves.
So it happened that she and Mrs. Williams barely got to know each other, hardly spoke. Emily would have gladly continued like that, but Samuel was too gentle and loving a son to ever refuse his mother.
Em, please, lets go, he pleaded after the next call, gazing into her eyes. Shes old. She really is lonely. Just once, for me. Please.
Samuel, Im not stopping you. Go ahead. You know I dont celebrate Christmas.
Dont look at it as Christmas, look at it as any family dinner, he pressed on. Mum wants to get closer to you. We are family
Emily resisted for ages, but finally agreed. She hoped she could get through it with a polite smile and a cup of tea with cake. How wrong she was
Everything went off beam the day before. Mrs. Williams insisted they arrived by eight in the morning to have more time together. Emily was firmly against it; weekends were for sleeping in! After much arguing, she managed to push it back to ten.
They arrived, bleary-eyed and nothing. No wafting scent of roast, no sizzling butter. Their hostess greeted them in a greasy dressing gown and curlers.
Well, finally! Youve arrived! barked Mrs. Williams instead of greeting. Half past ten! Weve guests at the door, and the kitchens a mess. Should have got up earlier! Youll need to help me today.
Emily froze, her coat still on.
What guests? she asked, bewildered.
Oh, you know Lucy and Victor happened to pass through from Leeds, couldnt not invite them. Aunt Violet from upstairs will drop in. My niece promised to come by I couldnt just shut the door on them, could I? Enough chit-chat, everyone to the kitchen, were pressed for time!
It dawned on Emily then they werent invited as guests. They were called as free help.
The holiday became a nightmare. Mrs. Williams transformed from hostess to a general, armed with a dishcloth for authority, bustling about issuing orders. She didnt lift a finger herself for cooking. Worse, shed botched the groceries missing some, forgetting others. She handed Samuel a list and sent them out shopping.
Emily really was ready to flee, but she held on for her husbands sake.
After returning, they each resumed their posts: Emily at the chopping board, Samuel at the potato bowl. Instead of a festive mood, they got a list of tasks. They slaved in the heat for five hours straight, no breaks.
By four, the guests trickled in, perfumed and cheerful. Emily and Samuel were sweaty and scruffy. They staggered to the table at the last second, faces flushed, clothes stained and worn out They felt so exhausted, celebration was the last thing on their minds.
Mrs. Williams, meanwhile, had changed into a respectable dress and even put on lipstick. At the head of the table, she received compliments.
Margaret, youre such a wonderful hostess, all these dishes youve made! praised an unknown woman, piling up a serving of Olivier salad sliced by Emily.
We do our best. All for our guests, all for you, replied Mrs. Williams, smiling graciously.
At some point, Mrs. Williams launched into her old lecture about the ticking clock, toasting the prospect of grandchildren. If not for Samuel pressing his knee to Emilys, she might have upended the bowl of vinaigrette right onto the table.
This was the last time, Emily said dryly as they drove home that evening. I wont set foot in your mothers house again. If you wish, go help her, wear yourself out, but do it alone. Ive had enough.
Samuel didnt even attempt to argue. He just nodded quietly.
Three months passed. Emilys back had long recovered from the miserable day, but the bitter aftertaste lingered. So, when Samuel told her in March that his mother was inviting them again, she clenched her jaw.
She wants us over for Mothers Day. Swears itll just be the three of us. Maybe Aunt Linda will drop by briefly, but only to say hello and leave, he said, but seeing Emilys expressive look, quickly added: But Im not forcing you. Just letting you know.
Samuel braced himself for the row, the complaints about yet another ruined occasion. But Emily just gazed thoughtfully out the window and then
Fine. Tell your mother well come.
Emily Are you serious? You said
I remember what I said. If I refuse, shell start ringing and guilt-tripping us daily, just like last time. I want to make sure she never invites me again, never whines or plays for sympathy. Listen Just trust me, unless you fancy working in her kitchen again.
Samuel looked away, choosing not to ask for details and kept neutral
Mothers Day, despite Mrs. Williams expectations, began with no alarm and no rush. Emily and Samuel lounged in bed, watching some silly sitcom and eating ice cream right there. No preparations, no makeup, no hunt for smart shirts.
At noon, his mother got worried and started phoning.
Hello, Mrs. Williams? You wont believe it We only just woke up, Emily said with feigned regret. Stayed out late with friends last night, overslept.
Oh honestly, Emily? Ive been waiting for you, Mrs. Williams replied, clearly annoyed. Hurry up. The goose is going cold.
Were getting ready now! An hour, tops, and well be there! Emily promised, hung up, and returned to the sitcom.
Samuel watched nervously, but said nothing. Better to stay in their cosy bed than sweat it out in his mums kitchen again.
An hour later, the phone rang again. This time Emily paused before answering.
Were almost leaving, Mrs. Williams! Calling a cab now well be at yours in a flash, she chirped from bed.
Another hour, the excuse changed again.
A cars crashed into a bus, the roads completely blocked dreadful traffic, Emily told his mother, muting the TV. It should clear soon, hopefully.
By half past three, Mrs. Williams lost patience.
Where are you?! she snapped, her syrupy tone gone. How long does it take? Youd have got here on foot by now!
Emily could plainly hear voices and laughter in the background. She squinted.
Mrs. Williams, are you not alone? she asked directly.
Alone or not What difference does it make? snapped his mother. Relatives came to say hello. Cant turn them away. Are you coming or not? I can barely stand, its hard for me alone!
Clear as day. Mrs. Williams had counted on free helpers once again only for her plans to flop and leave her cooking herself. Digging her own hole.
You know We wont be coming, Emily said calmly.
Why?!
I suddenly feel ill. Mustve got motion sickness. Were turning around and heading home.
A silence, then Mrs. Williams burst forth.
How dare you?! Ungrateful girl! Ive been slaving away here all morning who did I make all this for?! For whom?! she raged. Youre doing this on purpose! Just tormenting me! What if I drop dead of a stroke now?! Samuel! Give the phone to Samuel!
Samuel heard it all, but didnt move. He lowered his eyes. Emily, after a moment, pressed the red button, ended the call, and switched off her phone.
There you go, she said to her husband. Theres a crowd again. We were expected to serve them again. Let your mum handle her guests herself if she invited half the neighbourhood.
That evening, they went to Emilys parents.
The difference was clear at the doorway. It was busy, but the atmosphere was entirely different. No one sat with a sour face, waiting for servants. Emilys mother tried to squeeze an enormous salad bowl onto the table. Even her father sliced sandwiches.
Ah, the youngsters are here! he cheered when he saw his daughter and son-in-law. Samuel, fetch some chairs from the bedroom, theres nowhere to sit yet.
Samuel did as asked. Emily stood beside her mother, helping arrange the dishes.
They lent a hand, yes, but not under command. Here, it felt natural, not like exploitation. Everyone contributed as best they could, so all could enjoy.
Seated at the table, Emily watched her smiling mother and Samuel chatting cheerfully with her father, and felt her tension slowly fade. Justice had finally been served. Harsh, perhaps, and through a row, but Mrs. Williams would hardly dare pull the same stunt again. The bridges between Emily and her mother-in-law were burned for good, but that was better than slaving away at someone elses celebration.
