“Where do you think you’re going, and who’s going to cook for us now?” asked her husband, quieting down after seeing what Sarah was doing after the argument with his mother.
Sarah gazed out the window. The gloomy grey sky hung heavy, even though spring was just beginning. In their small town in the north, sunny days were almost as rare as hen’s teeth. Maybe that’s why the people living there seemed so grumpy and unfriendly.
Sarah herself noticed that she barely smiled anymore, the permanent frown line adding years to her appearance.
“Mum! I’m off out,” announced her daughter, Emily.
“Alright,” Sarah nodded.
“Alright what? Give me some cash.”
“Since when are walks expensive?” sighed Sarah.
“Mum! Stop asking questions!” Emily was losing patience. “My mates are waiting! Hurry up! Why so little?”
“That’ll cover an ice cream.”
“You’re such a tightwad,” Emily muttered, but she didn’t hear her mother’s response as she had already disappeared out the door.
Sarah shook her head, reminiscing about when Emily was such a sweet girl before those teenage years hit.
“Sarah, I’m starving! How much longer?” her husband, Tom, shouted irritably.
“Go ahead. Eat,” she replied indifferently, placing the plate on the table.
“Could you bring it to me?”
Sarah nearly dropped the pot. Cheeky blighter…
“Food’s eaten in the kitchen, Tom. Eat if you want, don’t eat if you don’t… it’s up to you,” she said, and sat down at the table by herself.
About fifteen minutes later, Tom strolled into the kitchen.
“It’s cold… yuck.”
“Then don’t take forever.”
“I asked you for it! No love or care at all! You know darn well I’m watching the football!” he grumbled, stuffing chicken into his mouth. “It’s tasteless.”
Sarah just rolled her eyes. Her husband was mad about football – bets, gear, pricey tickets… He’d become obsessed, despite not giving a toss about sports in his youth.
Never bothering to sit at the table, Tom grabbed another can to lift his spirits, some crisps to stave off starvation, and wandered back to the TV. Sarah stayed in the kitchen, mopping up the dirty dishes.
Cooked for nothing. No one appreciated it.
She was utterly exhausted from her shift; she worked as head nurse at the hospital. People came to her with their problems, irritable and sick. It turned out that work was stressful, and home wasn’t a warm, cozy haven, but another shift: serve-wash-clean.
“Is there any more?” Tom rummaged for another can in the fridge. “Why isn’t there any?”
“You drank it all! Do you expect me to buy this too? Have some decency, Tom!” snapped Sarah.
“Aren’t we precious…” scoffed her husband, slamming the door in a huff, off to stock the ‘cellar’ for the next match.
Sarah decided to head to bed, knowing she had a heavy workload the next day. But she couldn’t sleep. She was worried about her daughter, where she was, who she was with? The sky had turned dark, and there was still no sign of Emily. She was hesitant to call because Emily would just yell at her.
“You’re embarrassing me in front of my friends! Stop calling me!” Emily would growl down the line. After such exchanges, Sarah stopped phoning her, comforting herself with the notion that her daughter had just turned 18. She didn’t want to work or study, just finished school and took a break to find herself.
After drifting into a light sleep, Sarah was awakened by her husband’s jubilant shouts—someone must have scored a goal. Then he began loudly discussing the game with the neighbor who’d popped in and stayed. The neighbor brought his friend, and they all “cheered” together. By night, Emily came home banging around the kitchen and then went to bed. Just as everything quieted down and Sarah finally got to sleep, the cat started yowling for food.
“Is there anyone in this house besides me capable of feeding the cat?!” Sarah, irate and worn out from a migraine and sleepless night, burst out of her room. She wanted to be heard, but her daughter had her headphones on and just made a dismissive gesture. Meanwhile, Tom was snoring before the television, a can still in hand.
“I’ve had enough… I’m so fed up with all of this!” Sarah thought.
The next morning, she received a call from her mother-in-law.
“Sarah, darling, remember it’s time to plant the seedlings? And there’s the village house that needs tidying.”
“I remember,” sighed Sarah.
“Then we’ll go tomorrow.”
Sarah spent her sole day off working at the allotment under her mother-in-law’s supervision.
“Is that how you sweep? Hold the broom differently!” she instructed from her perch on the bench.
“I’m nearly fifty, Mrs. Smith, I think I’ve got it sorted…” Sarah dared to reply.
“Tom would…”
“And where’s your Tom? Why didn’t he bring you to the allotment? Instead, we had a three-hour bus trip. It’s always Tom this, Tom that…”
“He’s tired.”
“And me? You don’t think I’m tired too?”
And that’s when it all came out… Sarah regretted not holding her tongue. Mrs. Smith was a woman of many words and a lover of justice, though her justice was one-sided and didn’t extend to Sarah. Mrs. Smith had spent her life idolizing Tom, and to her, Sarah was just a workhorse she graciously tolerated.
The two women sat at opposite ends of the bus on the way back. The next day, Mrs. Smith complained to her son about his wife, and Tom flew off the handle.
“How dare you talk back to my mum?!” barked Tom. “If it weren’t for her…”
“What?” Sarah asked, arms crossed. She realized she no longer wanted to put up with this exploitative attitude.
“You’d still be working at the local clinic!” he pulled out his trump card, reminding her that his mother had helped her get the hospital job where the salary was higher, but paid off with stress and grey hairs. Sarah often regretted taking the bait and trading her peaceful local clinic for the hospital. “What are you doing?” Tom quieted, seeing what Sarah was up to.
He couldn’t even imagine what Sarah was about to do next!
