To prevent my husbands family from feasting on our food endlessly, I chose not to make a fuss. Instead, I handed Richard a shopping list and sent him off to the markets, muttering under his breath.
Emma will whip something up, she always does I overheard Richard assuring his relatives as he gazed into the barren fridge. But I refused to cook this time, deciding instead to keep a tally of all the groceries consumed.
I opened the fridge and paused, staring into emptiness. On the middle shelf sat a solitary jar of brine, hosting the last pickle. Beside it, a crust of stale cheddar and a small packet of mayonnaisethat was all.
Yesterday, there had been a large pot of stew, meat pies neatly wrapped in foil, and a container of salad. Now, the only thing left in the freezer was ice and a lonely bag of parsley, frozen since August.
The telephone rang in the corridor; Richard picked up, and I remained in the kitchen, fussing over an already spotless table, catching fragments of his conversation.
Yes, Mum, hello Yes, of course, we remember No, no, we havent planned anything What, is Evelyn coming too? Wonderful
I froze with the cloth in my hand, a familiar unease knots my stomach.
Yes, do come over. Dont worry, Emma will make something delicious, like always
I set the cloth down. His words made me feel less a wife than a fixture in the family routine, responsible for the function: provide a tasty meal. Richard hung up and looked at me cautiously.
My eyes landed on the empty shelf that had recently displayed a honey cake. Only two weeks ago, I spent half a day making it following Mums recipe: rolling paper-thin layers, cooking custard, assembling the cake, dusting it with crumbs.
At dinner, Mrs. Margaret, his mother, took one tiny bite, tasted it, and then said to her son, Its tasty, Richard, but awfully sweet. At our age, youve got to watch the sugar
His sister, Evelyn, chimed in with gentle pity, Mum, dont say thatEmma did her best probably.
That probably hit like a quiet verdict. The cake sat on the table, unfinished, the symbol of wasted effort.
And now the fridge was empty again, but this time, I felt the chill inside me.
His mother doesnt eat grocery store chemicals, and my husband invited her to empty shelves. I wrote up a list of the most expensive ingredientslet this tradition impact his wallet from now on.
What do you mean, buy food for your family? I finally broke the silence.
Richard stared down, hands in his pockets, as if seeking escape through the lino.
Well Mum Evelyn You know how it is. Theyll come its awkward if the table is bare.
Its awkward when Im told at the last moment, I said, opening the fridge door to reveal the consequences of their appetites. This isnt awkwardness, Richard; its a pattern.
He scratched his head.
Well family traditions
Family traditions In my home, guests were welcomed with whatever was in the house, we rejoiced in their companynot laboured over them like a canteen worker. And it was tradition to bring a small cake along.
He shifted uneasily from foot to foot, lost for words.
Very well, if were to have such guests, lets prepare properly.
I took down the beautiful leather-bound notebook he gave me once, and a matching pen. My movements were slow, not hysterical but deliberatethis was the start of an operation.
List for me everything your mother likes.
To my surprise, a sigh of relief flickered in his eyes, as though the storm had passed.
Well fillet of beef, only from Mrs. Brown at the Central Marketremember her?
I dothe one who charges £20 a kilo? Could we not get something simpler?
Oh, it has to be hers Next.
Cottage cheesehomemade, the creamy kind, delivered mornings to that shop by the park.
Noted. Why wont your mum eat store-bought cottage cheese?
Well theres chemicals in it.
Of course, chemicals. What else?
Sensing no trap, he grew animated.
Oh! And Swiss cheese with the holesEvelyn loves it, but only the imported sort, not the local. Theres a shop on the corner, but it isnt always in.
Alright, well check.
And Birds Milk chocolatesonly Cadbury, she wont accept others.
Absolutely. Anything else?
No, I think thats everything.
I looked over the neatly written list.
Well done, Richard.
Now, lets see how much your mums love costs us! I sent Richard out for Swiss cheese, and for the first time, he saw just how expensive his familys demands could be.
Saturday morning, I nudged my husband awake; he lay turned to the wall.
Rise and shine, breadwinner.
Richard grumbled, trying to drag the duvet over his head. I placed the list, the bank card, and a printout of the town map on his pillow.
Its time to do the shopping.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes, staring blankly at the papers before turning his bleary gaze to me.
Emma whats this? Cant we just get everything at the supermarket round the corner?
I feigned shock.
For your mum? Heaven forbid! Shell know the difference immediately and be offended.
With resigned sigh, Richard reached for his jeans draped over a chair. He knew that tonefutile to argue.
The market is here. Meat at Mr. Greenshe starts at six sharp. Say Emma sent you, and hell hold out his best cut, but dont be late, the wholesalers grab everything fast. Here, the cheese shopfresh delivery at seven.
I handed him the map.
Moneys on the cardshould be enough. Make sure to get all the receipts, alright? Im curious what devotion to your mother costs.
He flinched at the remark, silently grabbed the car keys, and left.
An hour later, the first call rang.
Emma, Im at the marketI cant find your Mr. Green!
Richard, youre a grown manask the people there. Youll manage, I believe in you.
I hung up.
His next call was from the dairy shop.
Emma, did you see what this cheese costs? This imported stuff is like buying half an aeroplane wing! How about we get the Royal English instead?
Richard, you know Evelyn wont touch oursshell be disappointed. Please, darling, lets not embarrass myself in front of your sister.
A weary sigh echoed through the phone.
The ordeal peaked with a call from Margaret.
Emma, what are you up to?! My dear Richard just called! Youve sent him trawling across town! Hes shattered!
Oh, Mrs. Margaret, not at all! Its entirely his ideahe said: I want to make Mum happy, Ill choose everything myself, only the best! Such a devoted sonyou must be so proud! I do admire him in these moments! Let him treat you.
The other end went quiet.
Margaret seemed confounded by the empty casserole dishes, and I announced: Richard set up the table himself. Lets thank him! In that instant, he realised what Id been up to.
Towards evening, Richard returned, staggered in, shoving the door open with his shoulder. Three enormous grocery bags thumped onto the hall floor. His face was flushed, hair damp.
He collapsed onto the stool, breathing hard, undoing his shoes in silence, slumped and staring blankly.
Soon after, relatives bustled in, lively and expectant, eager for a good meal.
Emma, dear! Whats that delightful aroma? asked Margaret, though really the flat just smelled of Richards fatigue.
Hello. Ask Richard, hes in charge today.
They moved to the kitchen, eyes wandering over the bare table before fixing on me. Evelyn peered into empty pots.
So whats for supper?
I nodded toward the shopping bags in the hallway.
Here, Richard brought everything. The finest, freshest delicacies. Im afraid to even touch such ingredientsmight ruin them. Perhaps well simply slice up the cheese, the fillet
An awkward silence fell. Margaret and Evelyn exchanged glances. Begrudgingly, they unpacked the bags, unearthed Richards spoils, and hunted for plates. I just sat, hands on my lap, watching.
Tension hung at the tablethey nibbled the expensive fillet and Swiss cheese, yet the pleasure had faded. Now the food tasted of Richards market ordeal, his frustration over the phone. He sat with slumped shoulders, idly poking his fork at his plate, barely looking up.
When the pause stretched unbearably, I smiled gently.
Mum, dont blame me if anythings amissits all Richards doing. He chose, bought, and carried it himself. Such a caring sonlets thank him.
Margaret blinked, bewildered, fork suspended over cheese. Evelyn fixed her gaze on her plate. Richard threw me an accusing look, but behind it I saw something newunderstanding. He finally grasped the lesson.
He himself cancelled his mothers next visit when I opened the empty notebook. He saw that my shopping lists measured the cost of his softnessa price he was no longer willing to pay.
Dinner ended quickly; conversation fizzled. The family left almost as soon as theyd finished eating, pleading tiredness. Not a word about next weekend or what a delicious meal!
Margaret patted Richards shoulder on her way out:
Rest up, son, you seem quite worn out.
Her final dig, of course, directed at me.
Richard and I remained alone amid dirty plates and leftover costly food. He was quiet, sorting dishes into the sink; then finally returned to me.
Why did you do this?
How else, Richard? What other way? I tried talking, you wouldnt listennow youve felt it.
He said nothing, just turned on the tap.
A week passed in silence, all talk confined to necessity; tension clung to the house.
Friday evening, he approached while I watered the plants, hesitating with his words.
Emma maybe a visit this weekend guests I could see how hard it was for him.
I stood silent, put down the watering can, fetched the leather notebook and pen from the bureau. Sat at the table, opened to a blank page.
He looked at me, then at the empty papera flicker of panic in his eyes. He realised this was no threat, just a reminder.
Without a word, he picked up his phone and went out onto the balcony, shutting the door tightly behind. I saw his silhouette through the glass, raising the phone. His voice was clear, with no boyish pleading:
Hi Mum. Yes This weekend were off to Emmas parents for pancakes. Already arranged. Next time? Mum, lets talk during the week, see how it goes. Alright. Take care.
He returned, put his phone down, and walked past without meeting my eyes.
I put the pen and notebook away in the drawer and went to the fridge. The same jar of brine and packet of mayonnaisebut this emptiness was no longer oppressive. It was a sign of freedom.
I picked up a large red apple from the fruit bowl, and for the first time in ages, truly smiled.
