“What’s going on?” asked Tom quietly when he noticed what Alice was doing after her argument with his mother.
Alice looked out the window. The dreary grey skies persisted, even though it was early spring. In their small northern town, sunny days were rare. Perhaps that’s why the people seemed so unfriendly and glum.
Lately, Alice had noticed she rarely smiled anymore. Her constant frown had etched a permanent line on her forehead, making her look years older.
“Mum! I’m going out,” her daughter, Emma, announced.
“Alright,” nodded Alice.
“Alright? Give me some money.”
“What, are walks no longer free?” sighed Alice.
“Mum, seriously? They’re waiting for me! Hurry up! And why so little?”
“It’s enough for some ice cream.”
“You’re so stingy,” Emma mumbled and dashed out the door before Alice could respond.
Alice shook her head, reminiscing about how sweet Emma had been before her teenage years set in.
“Al, I’m starving! What’s taking so long?” grumbled Tom.
“Go ahead and eat,” she replied indifferently, placing a plate on the table.
“Can’t you bring it to me?”
Alice almost dropped the pot, shocked at his nerve.
“We eat in the kitchen, Tom. Eat or don’t; it’s your choice,” she said, sitting down alone.
About fifteen minutes later, Tom came into the kitchen.
“It’s cold… yuck.”
“Should’ve been quicker.”
“I asked you! No love or care! You know I’m watching a match!” he complained, stuffing a piece of chicken into his mouth. “It’s tasteless.”
Alice just rolled her eyes. Her husband’s obsession with football was beyond her understanding. Bets, memorabilia, expensive tickets… he’d gotten hooked, though in his youth, he had no interest in sports.
Without properly sitting down, Tom grabbed a beer, some crisps for his so-called hunger, and went back to the living room. Alice stayed behind in the kitchen, cleaning the dirty dishes with frustration.
All her effort in cooking had gone unappreciated.
She was exhausted from her shift as a senior nurse at the hospital. People came to her with their problems, irritated and ill. Her work was stressful, and home was no sanctuary – just a second shift. Serve, clean, wash, repeat.
“Any more left?” Tom asked, rummaging through the fridge. “Why’s there none?”
“You drank it all! Am I supposed to buy more for you? Have some decency, Tom!” Alice snapped.
“My, how sensitive…” he scoffed, slamming the door before heading out to stock up for the next match.
Alice decided to go to bed, knowing she had a long day ahead. But sleep was elusive. She worried about her daughter, unsure of Emma’s whereabouts and company. Night had fallen, yet Emma was still out. Calling her was intimidating, as Emma tended to lash out.
“You’re embarrassing me in front of my friends! Stop calling me!” Emma would shout into the phone. After such episodes, Alice stopped calling, reassuring herself that Emma was now eighteen. Emma neither wanted to work nor study, having finished school and taken time off to “find herself.”
Drifting into a light nap, Alice was jolted awake by Tom’s cheering. Apparently, a goal had been scored. He was now loudly discussing the match with a neighbour who happened to drop by and stay. Later, the neighbour brought his girlfriend, and the household supported the team together. Emma returned late at night, clattering dishes and stomping to her room before falling asleep. As the house quieted and Alice finally managed to sleep, the cat began to meow insistently for food.
“Can anyone feed the cat besides me?!” Alice shouted out of her room, miserable with a headache and lack of sleep. She wanted someone to hear her, but Emma, wearing headphones, just made a twirling motion by her temple. Tom continued to snore in front of the TV, beer can in hand.
“I’ve had enough… I’m sick of it all!” thought Alice.
The next day, a phone call from her mother-in-law woke her.
“Alice, darling, remember it’s time to plant the seeds? And we should go to the village… tidy up,” she said.
“I remember,” sighed Alice.
“Let’s go tomorrow then.”
On her only day off, Alice toiled away at their allotment under her mother-in-law Margaret’s watchful eyes.
“That’s not how you sweep! Hold the broom differently!” Margaret instructed from her bench.
“I’m nearly fifty, Margaret. I think I know how to manage,” Alice dared to reply.
“Well, Tom would…”
“And where is your Tom? Why didn’t he come with us? Three hours on the bus, we could barely sit, and it’s always Tom, Tom…”
“He’s tired.”
“And I’m not? Do you think I don’t get tired?”
And there it went… Alice wished she had bitten her tongue. Margaret was quite the gabber and very much in favour of fairness, although her version rarely included Alice. Rhapsodizing about Tom had been Margaret’s lifelong habit, while Alice played the role of a mule, stoically tolerated.
The women sat apart on the bus home. The next day, Margaret had already aired her grievances with Tom, and he flew off the handle.
“How dare you talk back to my mum?!” he barked. “If it weren’t for her…”
“What?” Alice asked, arms crossed. She realized she’d had enough of being treated like a service provider.
“You’d still be working at the local clinic!” He smugly played his trump card, reminding Alice how Margaret helped her land a position at the county hospital. The pay was better, sure, but the cost was mental strain and grey hairs. Alice often regretted making the trade, succumbing to pressure and leaving behind the peace of the local clinic. Yet here she was, contemplating the futility of it all.
“What are you doing?” Tom muttered, perplexed about her actions.
He had never imagined Alice would take such bold steps.
