I was wiping dust off the photo frames on the chest of drawers when I heard Andrews footsteps in the hallway. March had turned out damp, and even with the heating on full blast the chill lingered in our twobedroom flat in Birmingham.
On the windowsill the violets had wilted, the only reminder of that warm May when wed just tied the knot.
Andrew shuffled into the kitchen in an old pair of jeans and a stretchedout tee. His hair stuck out in every direction and a pillowmark lingered on his cheek.
Already up? he asked, reaching for the kettle. I thought Saturday was for sleeping in a bit longer.
Sleeping, I said, hanging the dishcloth on the hook by the sink. Your mother called twice already. She wants to know when well help with the cottage.
Andrew let out a cough. Outside a flock of sparrows darted past, and somewhere down the court a dog let out a low bark.
What did you say to her? I asked.
I told her wed think about it, I replied, pulling a block of cheddar from the fridge and beginning to slice it onto plates. But I dont get why wed have to drive out there every weekend. Doesnt Elena Whitmore have a son, Victor? Hes not her personal handyman.
Victor works two shifts, Andrew said, sitting down and sprinkling a little sugar over the cheese. He never has a day off.
Never, right, I said, settling beside him. And Im supposed to be carefree? I work too, you know.
Andrew fell silent, sipped his tea, and stared out the window. Across the street, a neighbour was fiddling with a bicycle, flipping the wheels and tightening the chain.
Remember how we first met your family? I said, biting into a slice of bread. I thought they were so welcoming back then
***
That September was unusually warm. I was working as a shop assistant in a fabric store, and Andrew was a fitter at the local factory. Wed been dating for six months, and it was finally time for me to meet the parents.
Your mums been looking forward to this, Andrew said, adjusting his shirt collar. Shes spent the whole week preparing.
Elenas flat was on the third floor of a fivestorey block. The moment I stepped into the hallway I was hit by the smell of bleach mixed with cat litter, and the walls were scrawled with vulgar graffiti.
Come on in, lovebirds! she called out.
Elena met us on the landing in a crisp floral dress, her hair neatly pinned up. The flat had that cosy, oldfolk feel little flower vases on every mantel, candy jars on the shelves, dated carpets on the walls, and an ancient television draped with lace.
Oh, what a beauty! Andrews mother exclaimed as she took in my appearance. Ive just made borscht. Beatrice, could you help set the table?
She thrust a stack of plates into my hands before I could recover my breath.
In the lounge, Andrews brother lounged on the sofa. He was about twentyfive, broadshouldered, with a hint of stubble and a detached stare.
Hey, he grumbled.
The evening went on with Elena repeatedly asking me to pass the sauce, slice the bread, clear the dishes. Victor sat slouched on the sofa, nodding occasionally at his mothers questions and muttering under his breath.
My Victors a good help, Elena chirped when her son went out onto the balcony for a smoke. He just tires out at work, so I dont ask him to do much more.
A month later we had a modest wedding. The guest list was short, but the day felt warm and heartfelt. When it came time for gifts, Elena solemnly handed us two parcels.
I received a cheap, sequined blouse from a market bright blue and unmistakably budget. Andrew got a leather belt in a fancy box.
Sorry its so modest, Elena said, a hint of embarrassment in her voice. My pension is small, barely covers the bills
Victor let out a sigh and turned toward the window. I bit my tongue, wanting to ask where his unemployed brother got such pricey shoes.
***
Six months slipped by. I fell into the rhythm of cooking, cleaning, and laundry. Andrew sometimes worked double shifts and came home exhausted, and I tried not to bother him any more than necessary.
Elena fell into a routine of dropping by every other day, usually around eight in the morning just as I was about to head out for work.
Your rugs looking drab, shed say. Take it out onto the balcony and give it a good brush. My backs acting up; I cant lift anything heavy.
Or shed ask, Pop over to the local shop, could you grab some milk and a loaf? My legs get sore if I walk too far
I obeyed quietly, bag in hand, buying groceries and lugging the old rug that clearly had come from Elenas own grandmother.
Next door lived Victor, a healthy lad who spent his days at home playing video games, yet his mother never seemed to mind.
You mustnt bother Victor, Elena would explain. He gets tired from work, even if he rests between shifts.
One Thursday, I was returning from the shop with heavy bags when I saw Elena on the stairwell.
Just in time! The potatoes are on sale at the market. Grab a bag, will you? My kidney stones giving me trouble
I took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and met her eye.
No!
What do you mean no? Elena asked, flustered.
It means exactly that. Your son sits at home, let him stay there. Im not your servant.
What followed could have been a scene from a drama. Elenas face twisted, every line on her neck visible.
Ungrateful! Lazy! How dare you! she shouted, snatching my coat from the rack and throwing it to the floor. Take that! For your cheek!
She then stormed back to her flat.
I stood in the hallway, staring at the crumpled coat, wondering what I was really grateful for a market blouse? Endless errands? Being treated like free labour?
***
Three days passed in eerie silence. No knocks, no ringing phones. I even savoured the unexpected peace, enjoying a leisurely breakfast and a book in the evening. Andrew noticed the change too.
Moms not been around for ages, he said over dinner, twirling spaghetti onto his fork.
Im not missing her, I admitted honestly.
On the fourth day, while I was frying mince, Andrews phone shrieked like an alarm.
Put it on loud, I said, stirring the onions.
My dear, Ive lived this long his mothers voice crackled.
Again the same old story, I thought, rolling my eyes. She expects me to care for an old lady and run errands, while I sit here alone, unwanted
Andrew scratched his head, his expression sour.
Mom, cut the theatrics. I know you well enough, he muttered.
Shes hurt me! I snapped. When did I ever insult you? I just mentioned Victor
Dont touch Victor! Elena snapped. If hes at home, thats how it should be!
Thats what gets me worked up! Andrew finally erupted. You treat his life like a delicate vase!
A heavy silence settled over the phone, broken only by the sizzle of oil.
Fine, son, Elenas voice turned icy. If you dont want to ruin my birthday, lets end this once and for all.
Andrew hung up and stared out the window.
Sometimes it feels like my mother lives in her own little world. Victor is the eternal child she shields from every hardship, while the rest of us are merely background actors in her play.
***
That evening Andrew stood mute, looking as if the whole world were on trial.
Are you going to stand there like a statue? I snapped. Fine, fine! Ill make peace with your mother!
He turned, gave a small smile, satisfied that hed gotten his way.
The next morning I measured out a few drops of valerian into a glass, downed it in one gulp, fumbled with my phone and finally called Elena.
One ring. Two rings. On the third, a voice answered.
Hello?
Good afternoon, Mrs. Whitmore, I began, my throat dry. Id like to apologise for the incident earlier. I was out of line.
There was a pause so long I wondered if the line had dropped.
I was waiting for that, Elena said finally. So, would you help me with my birthday?
Of course, gladly! I replied.
Great. Ill send you the menu. Goodbye.
I was about to hang up when I heard a muffled conversation behind her. Elena must have forgotten to end the call and was now chatting with someone else.
I froze, phone pressed to my ear.
***
So, Victor, does it look right? Elenas voice floated through the line. Weve got our little princess all set
A chill ran down my spine.
shell be a silkhanded one.
Exactly, Victors voice responded. She thinks shes the smartest in the room.
I gripped the phone so hard the plastic creaked.
Let her know her place, Elena hissed.
Dont worry, Victor whispered. If she needs another lesson, Ill give it to her.
It turned out the wheels on my car were flat, so I hailed a cab to make it to work on time.
Alright, lets go for tea, Elena said. Or youll catch a cold.
Silence settled over the flat. I slipped the phone into my pocket and leaned against the wall.
Well then, dear relatives, I muttered to myself. Fancy a little game? Lets play.
A crow swooped past the window and perched on a branch, as if to remind me who really ruled the roost.
***
Mrs. Whitmores birthday fell on a Saturday. From the moment dawn broke I was bustling in the kitchen, chopping salads and frying meat.
By two oclock the flat was full of guests neighbours from the building, a distant cousin from Manchester, former colleagues. About ten people in total.
Everything we prepared with Victor! the birthday lady chirped, flitting between tables. Three days straight of nonstop work!
I quietly arranged plates, listening as Elena told the guests:
Can you believe the daughterinlaw, Beatrice Whitmore, wont even peel a potato? She says shell never do it. What a lazy thing
After the customary toasts and a mountain of gifts, the guests moved to the feast.
A neighbour began coughing, then an older relative grabbed a glass of water, and soon several guests were grimacing, washing down their bites with water.
Lord, why is it so salty? a colleague lamented. Its undrinkable!
My tongues gone numb! another added. Its as if Ive drunk sea water!
All eyes turned to Elena, who flushed and stared at me with wide eyes.
Its the daughterinlaws fault! she declared.
What daughterinlaw? a neighbour interjected. You were just bragging about how you and your son cooked everything!
An awkward hush fell. I rose slowly from my seat.
If you wanted to turn me into a docile servant, your little play has failed.
I headed for the door, but stopped beside Victor.
Youll pay me back for the tyre damage, down to the penny!
Andrew stood with his mouth open. The guests froze like statues. I lifted my chin, walked out, and quietly shut the door behind me.
Behind me something clinked, and the birthday lady let out a sigh of relief.
***
The sun was sinking low. I settled into my favourite armchair by the window, sipping tea and savoring the aftertaste of the days events.
The front door opened and Andrew stepped in.
What on earth was that? he asked, pausing in the doorway.
I placed my cup on the sill and gave a small smile. Outside, the streetlights had just come on, and the lateMarch air smelled of fresh spring. Pigeons cooed on the wires, and, in the distance, church bells rang a solemn chime that seemed to mark the end of a long, tangled chapter.
