I was up in the middle of the night for a glass of water when I heard my parents talking in the kitchen. Their voices drifted through the hall, low and urgent, and by the time Id swallowed the water Id caught enough to know that something was terribly wrong. By morning Emily had packed a bag and handed in papers to end our marriage.
I stared at the brick twostorey house at the end of the lane in Surrey, the one my parents have owned since before I was born. It always felt too large for just two retirees.
Ready? I asked, pulling the suitcases from the boot.
Of course, Emily said, smiling thinly. Fifteen years together had taught her how to mask discomfort.
The front door opened and Margaret, my mother, appeared in a fresh housecoat. Ah, there you are, James dear! she hugged me and planted a kiss on my cheek, then glanced at Emily. Hello, Emily.
Hello, Emily replied, holding out a box of chocolates.
My dear, you shouldnt have. Your fathers diabetes is getting worse, Margaret murmured.
I said nothing, as I always did.
In the sitting room Arthur, my father, sat watching the news. He nodded at us, then turned his attention back to the screen.
Dinner will be ready in an hour, Margaret announced. James, give me a hand in the kitchen. Emily, you take a rest.
Rest. As if I were a sickly old man.
Emily slipped into the guest bedroom, dumped her bag into the wardrobe and perched on the edge of the bed. Through the plaster she could hear Margaret and me chatting about work, the neighbours, health.
Why did they come here every month? To keep up appearances, or did I really miss my parents?
Emily, darling, have a bite! Margaret called. The table was laid with roast chicken, roast potatoes, and a simple saladexactly as it always was.
James told us you spent your holiday in Spain again, my mother began. When we were your age wed go to the country house and help the nation.
Times have changed, Emily answered.
Yes, they have. Back then family mattered more than any pastime, Margaret said, her eyes sharp.
Emilys fists clenched. I chewed my chicken in silence.
And when are you planning children? Arthur asked, looking up from his plate. The years are slipping by.
Weve talked about that, I muttered. Talked and talked. What came of it?
Emily rose from the table. Excuse me, I have a headache. Ill be in bed early.
She shut the bedroom door and sat trembling on the bed. The same pattern repeated itself: hints, reproaches, disapproving glances.
I returned half an hour later.
Whats the matter with you?
Nothing, just tired, she said.
They dont mean any harm. They just worry about us, I tried to reassure her.
Worry. Emily lay down, turned her face to the wall and whispered, Good night.
I stripped, climbed into bed beside her, and soon the room was filled with my snoring.
Emily stayed awake, thinking about the snide remarks that would await us at breakfast, about my habit of pretending not to hear anything. Fifteen years. Was this how it would be forever?
At three in the morning I woke, my mouth dry, my head buzzing. James was still snoring, sprawled across the whole bed.
I slipped into a robe and padded to the kitchen for water. A nightlight glowed in the hallway; the floorboards creaked under my feet.
In the kitchen I heard Margaret and Arthur arguing.
putting up with that barren cow, Margaret hissed. Fifteen years! No kids, no use.
Quiet, someonell hear, Arthur growled.
Let her hear! Maybe shell finally feel shame. James could have any woman. Handsome, welloff, Margaret continued.
My heart hammered so hard I thought the whole house would hear.
So what do you suggest?
Talk to him tomorrow. A serious talk. A man needs to understand time isnt elastic. At fifty you can still start a proper family.
And the flat? The car?
The flat is in Jamess name; we gave the deposit. The car is his too. Shell only get what shes earned herself.
Margaret let out a bitter laugh. And thats peanuts. A damned librarian.
You think hell agree?
Of course, Im his mother. I know how to get him to listen. The key is to frame it right: Youre unhappy, son, suffering with that whats her name
Emily.
Right. Time to get rid of the dead weight!
I pressed my back against the wall, my pulse thudding. Dead weight. Fifteen years and I was now a dead weight.
And if he refuses?
He wont. James has always listened to me. He will now too.
The kitchen clattered with rustling bags and dishes.
All right, time for bed. Big day tomorrow, Margaret said.
I rushed to the bathroom, locked the door, and sat on the lavatory seat, covering my face with my hands.
Dead weight. A barren cow.
For fifteen years Id cooked for holidays, given gifts, endured hints and reproaches. And now they were planning to dispose of me like old furniture.
And James would obey. When had he ever disobeyed his mother?
I went back to the bedroom. James was still snoring. I pulled the blanket over myself and waited for morning.
At seven I got up, dressed, and packed my things. James stirred at the sound of my moving.
Emily, why so early?
Im going home.
How home? We were meant to stay until evening.
I want to go home now.
James sat up, rubbing his eyes. What happened?
Nothing. I just want to go home.
And my parents? Theyll be upset.
I grabbed my bag. Tell them I said hello. Say I had a headache.
Ill go with you.
No. Stay. Spend time with your parents.
I left the room, slipped on my coat in the hallway, and called a taxi.
Emily, where are you off to? Margaret popped her head out of the kitchen. Breakfast is ready.
Im going home. Thank you for the hospitality.
But why so early?
She looked at me, painted lips, surprised eyes, a caring tone. I have things to do at home.
The taxi arrived ten minutes later. I climbed into the back seat and shut my eyes.
The dead weight was disposing of itself.
At home I brewed a strong cup of tea and sat at the kitchen table. The flat was unusually quiet. Usually we returned in the evenings, ate, and went straight to bed. It was Saturday, eleven oclock, and I was alone.
The phone rang. It was James.
Emily, did you get home okay?
Yes.
Whats happening? Mum says you were acting strange.
Everythings fine. How are your parents?
Theyre fine Listen, Ill come over tonight. Well talk.
All right. I hung up and looked around the flat. Wed chosen the wallpaper together, bought the furniture together. Only the deposit had come from my parents, so by their logic the flat wasnt really mine.
I went to the wardrobe and took out a folder with documents: marriage certificate, title deeds, everything in both our names.
Another lie from the old hag.
On Monday I took a day off and visited a solicitor. A young woman in jeans and a sweater greeted me.
Want to file for divorce?
Yes.
Any children?
No.
Do you anticipate a property dispute?
Possibly, I thought.
Then it will have to go through the courts. Well submit a petition; youll be summoned for a hearing. If your husband doesnt agree, there will be several hearings.
And if he agrees?
Itll be quicker. A month or two and thats it.
I filled out the forms and paid the court fee. A strange relief washed over me, as if Id dropped a heavy backpack.
That evening James came home at eight, tired and irritable.
What a day Mums been nagging nonstop. She says I shouted at her.
I didnt shout, I replied.
Then what? Why did you leave like that?
I set a bowl of soup in front of him.
James, do you love me?
He choked.
Whats with the questions?
Im just curious. Do you love me?
Of course I do. Fifteen years together.
Thats not an answer. You can live fifteen years out of habit.
James set down his spoon.
Emily, whats going on? For two days youve been different.
Answer the question.
Well I love you. So what?
What will you say if your parents suggest we get divorced?
Jamess face fell. He lowered his eyes.
Thats nonsense. Why would they?
And if they do?
They wont.
James, Im askingwhat will YOU say?
A long pause. He crumpled the napkin in his hands.
Emily, why bring this up? Were fine.
Fine isnt an answer.
I dont know! He pushed back from the table. Im tired of these questions. Two days ago everything was fine, and now what happened?
I stood as well.
Nothing happened. I just realized something.
Realized what?
That Ive been a fool for fifteen years.
I went to the bedroom, fetched the folder from the wardrobe, returned to the kitchen and laid the divorce petition on the table.
James read it and went pale.
Are you out of your mind?
On the contrary. For once Im thinking clearly.
Because of what? Because of my mother? She didnt mean anything by it!
I know. She didnt mean anything. She just thinks Im dead weight.
James froze.
How did you
I overheard your familys strategy meeting. At night. In the kitchen.
Emily, its not what you think
What is it then?
He was silent, turning the petition over in his hands.
Say something, I said, sitting opposite him.
James put the petition on the table.
Mom really did talk about kids. That there isnt much time.
And did she also talk about dead weight?
Emily, shes old. She says foolish things sometimes.
And what did you say?
James rubbed his forehead. I didnt say anything.
Exactly. As always.
I stood and poured myself another cup of tea. My hands were steady. I had expected hysteria, tears. Instead there was calm.
For fifteen years I waited for you to finally put them in their place, for you to tell your mother Im your wife, not a temporary lodger, I said. Theyre used to being in charge and youre used to obeying. And you made me obey.
James sprang up.
I didnt make anyone obey! I just dont like conflict.
Conflict? I laughed. Its called defending your wife. But you preferred I just endure.
So what now? You cant change the past.
Nothing needs doing. Its already done.
James grabbed the petition. I wont sign this!
You dont have to. The court will grant the divorce.
Emily, think! Where will you go? What will you do?
I dont know. But Ill do it without the three of you.
He paced the kitchen, waving his arms. This is madness! To wreck a family over a silly old womans words!
Family? I set my cup down. What family, James? Where do you see a family?
We we live together
We live like flatmates in a shared house. You work, I work. We see each other evenings, watch TV. On weekends we go to your parents, where I pretend to be grateful they tolerate me.
James sat down. And whats wrong with that? Its a normal life.
Normal for you. Im tired of being nobody.
The phone rang. It was Margaret.
Dont pick up, James begged.
I answered. Hello.
Emily, dear! Is James home? I wanted to see how things are.
Things are fine. Im divorcing your son.
Silence. Then, What? What are you saying?
What you wanted to hear. Im getting rid of myself for you.
Emily, I dont understand
You will. Say hello to Arthur.
She hung up. James stared at me, horrified. Why did you tell her?
Why hide it? Let her be happy.
Half an hour later Margaret burst in, unannounced.
Whats happening? James, explain this at once!
Mom, not now
Emily! She turned to me. What are you up to? Have you lost your mind?
I sat calmly at the table. On the contrary. Ive come to my senses.
About what? Did James mistreat you?
He ignored me. And you were planning to get rid of me.
Margaret flushed. Who told you that?
You did. Last night. In the kitchen.
You were eavesdropping?
I wanted a drink of water. I heard you calling me dead weight.
Margaret glanced between us. Emily, you misunderstood. I worry about Jameshes unhappy
Mom, thats enough, James said suddenly.
She blinked. What do you mean, enough?
Enough lying. Yes, you wanted us to divorce. And yes, I listened and kept quiet. Like always.
James!
And now Emily has decided for herself. And she did the right thing.
James looked at me, surprised. For the first time in fifteen years he told his mother the truth.
But its too late, she added.
James nodded. I understand.
Margaret darted between us. Youre both crazy! Emily, I apologise if I said something wrong!
Thank you. But the decision is made.
A month later the court finalized the divorce. The flat was split in half; I sold my share to James. The money bought a tidy studio in a different neighbourhood.
The new flat was small but bright. I put a few flowers on the windowsill and hung my pictures.
For the first time in years I did what I wanted. I watched the films I liked, ate when I wanted, and faced no criticism.
James called during the first weeks, begging me to come back, promising to talk to his parents. I answered politely and briefly. Then the calls stopped.
Friends were astonished: how could I leave a welloff husband? My answer was simplemoney never replaces respect.
At fortyone I started a new life. No meddling fatherinlaw, no snide motherinlaw, no wishywashy husband.
Hard? Yes. Lonely? Sometimes.
But for the first time in many years I wasnt a dead weightI was simply myself. And that was worth any difficulty.
