What do you mean nothings been made for dinner? We didnt come here for your sake! Jamess father protested, dropping his coat on the empty chair at the kitchen table.
I dont get why you put up with this, Sophie, Emmas colleague, said, shaking her head. I wouldve said enough ages ago.
Emma sighed, stirring her tea. The lunch break was almost over, and a quick chat with Sophie hadnt lifted a speck of the weight on her shoulders.
You know, sometimes it feels like Im living on a public road, Emma said, pushing her mug away. Picture this: I get home after a meeting, barely standing, and theres my motherinlaw and her friend in the kitchen having a cuppa like its their flat. And James never even gives me a headsup.
What did you do?
What could I do? I smiled, boiled the kettle, fetched some biscuits
Sophie rolled her eyes. You trained them yourself. Youve been putting up with this for five years.
Emma rubbed her temples. The migraine thats been dogging her lately was back in full force.
James thinks I should be gratefulsays his parents treat me like one of their own.
Do they drop by often?
At least three or four times a week. Especially my fatherinlawhe loves popping in unannounced. Hell crash onto the armchair and launch into Back in our day and he never forgets to ask whats for dinner.
Just then Emmas phone buzzed. James had texted that his parents would be over this evening to discuss weekend plans.
Take a look, Emma handed the phone to Sophie. He doesnt ask, he just states it as fact.
And the flat is yours, right? Sophie squinted.
Its mine. I bought it before we got marriedtook out a mortgage thats deep in the red. Three years left to pay, and I never take a penny from James. My dad used to nag me: If you split up, youll lose the house. So Im paying it all myself and keep every receipt.
They know all that?
Of course. It means nothing to them. George, Jamess dad, even said, This is the family nest now.
The rest of the day slogged on. Emma tried to concentrate on her reports, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the evening ahead. After talking with Sophie, something inside her snapped. Shed managed to convince herself everything was normal, that this was how a family should be. Now, not so much.
At six, she packed up and decided she wasnt cooking tonight. Shed let them feel, for once, that she was a person, not just a housekeeper.
When she got home she headed straight for a shower, then slipped into something comfy. She didnt even glance at the kitchen. Instead she sank into her favourite armchair with the novel shed been meaning to finish.
The doorbell rang at seven on the dot. On the step stood George, newspaper tucked under his arm, and trailing behind him was his wife Margaret, clutching a bag of sunflower seeds.
Were here to see you! Margaret announced cheerfully, heading straight for the kitchen.
Emma gave a silent nod. George, still in his street shoes, shuffled into the living room and plonked himself in the armchair as usual.
Whats for dinner? he asked, unfolding the paper.
Nothing, Emma replied curtly.
George lowered his newspaper. Nothing? Dont just stand there like a statue! Get something on the stove!
A thump announced Jamess arrival.
Hey, everyone! he called from the hallway. Oh, Mum, Dad, youre already here!
Margaret poked her head out of the kitchen. James, sweetie Emma didnt make anything.
Didnt make anything? James frowned, looking at his wife. You knew my parents were coming.
I knew, Emma said calmly. You told me at lunch.
So what? You could have thrown something together. Its not the first time.
Emma noticed Margaret exchange a knowing glance with James.
Exactlyit isnt the first, Emma rose from the chair. Or the tenth. Im fed up being a roundtheclock canteen.
Dear, what are you saying Margaret began.
Im not your dear! Emmas voice trembled. I have a name. I have a life. I even own this flat!
Emma! James stepped forward. Stop the drama!
Drama? Emma let out a bitter laugh. You call it drama when, for the first time in five years, I say no?
George folded his paper grandly. You know, James, I always said youd pamper her. Look where thats got us.
And you Emma snapped at George, then fell silent, a lump rising in her throat.
Whatme? he raised an eyebrow. Go on, finish what you started.
Emma clenched her fists. All five years of bottled up resentment burst out.
You treat my home like its yours. You pop in whenever you feel like it, bark orders, demand food This is my flat! Mine! I have the right to be alone here sometimes!
Margaret threw up her hands. James, can you hear that? Shes kicking us out!
Emma, stop this right now, James grabbed her elbow. Apologise to my parents.
I wont, Emma pulled free. Im done apologising for wanting a normal life. No more daily visits and instructions in my own house. Im exhausted!
Jamess parents gathered their things and left. Margaret muttered that Emma was selfish and ungrateful. For a moment everything was quiet. Emma even hoped the storm had passed.
A few weeks later James announced his parents would be staying for a couple of days. Emma had just returned from a threeday business trip, drained from endless meetings.
James, I just got off the plane. I need to rest, to collect myself
You know how much they love dropping by, James said without looking up from his phone.
They just love a free meal, Emma thought, but said nothing.
The parents arrived in the evening with two massive suitcases. The sheer amount of luggage set Emmas nerves on edge.
George plonked himself in the living room and cranked the TV up. Margaret, coat still on, trudged straight to the kitchen.
Emma, love, weve been on the road all day and our tummies are rumbling. Make us something quick, will you?
Im working, Emma said, glancing at her laptop. Ive got a deadline.
Working, she says, Margaret snorted. You could make an effort for your sons parents.
From the living room, George shouted, Hey, Emma, could you help me with my phone? The internets gone haywire
I cant right now, sorry.
Shes always like this, George yelled at his son. No respect for her elders.
James stayed silent, pretending not to hear. Emma clenched her teeth and went back to the laptop. Half an hour later Margarets voice rose from the kitchen again:
Emma! How long are you going to pretend youre busy? Were starving!
Order delivery, Emma snapped finally. Theres a magnet on the fridge with a menu and a number.
Ugh, Margaret grimaced. We prefer homecooked. In my day, daughtersinlaw
Im not your daughterinlaw from the last century! Emma slammed her laptop shut. I have my own life, my own job, my own plans! Why should I drop everything every time you need something?
Silence settled over the room. Even the TV seemed to quiet down.
James, George said slowly, do you hear how your wife is talking to us?
Emmas just tired, James tried to smooth things over. Ill take care of dinner myself.
No, son, George rose from the armchair. Its not about being tired. Your wife thinks she can look down on us because the flat is hers.
You know what? Emma stood up too. Yes, its my flat. And I have the right to decide who lives here and when!
Emma! James placed a hand on her shoulder. You could be a bit more tolerant! Theyre my family!
Leave me be, Emma said quietly. I cant do this any longer.
Enough! Margaret cut in sharply. Come on, start cooking if youve got time to argue.
Three pairs of eyes bore into Emma, and she finally gave in.
A few days later Jamess parents finally moved out. Emma hoped peace would return. Two months passed relatively calmly.
One evening, after a grueling day of backtoback meetings, traffic and a difficult client, Emma unlocked her front door and froze on the threshold.
Voices and clatter came from the kitchen. George and Margaret were already settled in, groceries spread on the table, pots out.
Ah, there you are! George shouted, abandoning his newspaper. So, what are you making for dinner tonight?
Emma set her bag down slowly. Nothing.
James, standing by the window, looked away. George frowned.
What do you mean, nothing? We didnt come here for you! We came for the food! Get on the stove!
Something snapped inside Emma. All five years of humiliation, endless concessions, trying to pleaseit had been for nothing. No one ever saw her as a person.
I see, Emma straightened. So its all about the food? I thought you were here to see your son.
Emma, dont start, James tried to intervene.
No, love, Im finishing, Emma turned to him. This isnt a cafeteria. Not a hotel. This is my home! Mine! And I wont let anyone boss me around any more.
Margaret threw up her hands. James, can you hear what shes saying?
You havent heard me for five years, Emma continued. For five years Ive cooked and tolerated your visits. And you she looked at Jameshave never once taken my side. Not once!
Because youre wrong! James flared. Youre acting like
Like what? Emma cut him off. Like someone whos had enough of being a servant in her own house?
George stood up. Wed better go. We dont want to get in the way of you figuring things out.
Right, Emma said. Go. And dont come back without an invitation.
Emma! James grabbed her hand. Apologise. Now!
No, Emma pulled free. Enough. Choose, James. Either start respecting my boundaries or go back to your parents. For good.
A heavy silence fell. Emma watched James shift his gaze between her and his parents, then back again. At last he lowered his head.
Sorry, Emma. But theyre my family.
And me? Emma asked quietly. What am I?
James stared at her, as if looking for an answer. You wont change your mind? he asked, sullen.
Emma shook her head. Shed found the strength to take control, and she wasnt about to give up her freedom.
James slipped on his coat and followed his parents out. The front door slammed, and the flat fell unusually quiet. Their marriage was over.
Emma sank into a chair. For some reason the tears didnt come. Instead there was a strange relief, like shed dropped a heavy backpack shed been lugging for years.
Her phone buzzeda message from Sophie: How are you?
Emma smiled and began to type: Can you imagine, I finally.
