Where are you off to? And whos going to cook now?
Whats that about? Where are you headed? And wholl be cooking for us? the husband asked, alarmed, as he saw what Antónia was doing after the quarrel with her motherinlaw
Antónia stared out the window. A dull, grey sorrow lingered despite it being early spring. In her tiny town in northern Portugal, sunshine was a rarity. Perhaps thats why the locals were sourmouthed and unfriendly.
She began to notice that she rarely smiled and that the perpetually furrowed line between her eyebrows added years to her face.
Mom! Im going for a walk called her daughter, Beatriz.
All right Antónia replied.
All right? Give me some money.
Now even walks have a price? the woman sighed.
Mom! What kind of questions are those?! Beatriz snapped. Theyre waiting for me! Hurry up! And why so little?
Itll buy an icecream.
Youre such a cheapskate Beatriz muttered, disappearing through the door before hearing her mothers answer.
Antónia shook her head, remembering when Beatriz had been a sweet little girl, before puberty set in.
Antónia, Im starving! How long will it take? Mario shouted, irritated.
Go eat she said flatly, placing the dish on the table.
Bring it here, or go there?
Antónia almost dropped the pot. As if he could just command her
Eat in the kitchen, Mario. If you want to, eat; if you dont fine she replied, sitting alone at the table.
Fifteen minutes later, Mario trudged into the kitchen.
Its cold bleh.
Took you forever.
I told you! No affection, not even a little care! You know Im watching the match! Mario said, chewing on the chicken. Its not great.
Antónia just rolled her eyes. The football turned her husband into a different personbets, gadgets, pricey tickets hed become hooked, even though hed never cared for sports in his youth.
Without sitting, Mario grabbed a can, some chips for his nerves, and returned to the TV. Antónia stayed in the kitchen, tackling the dirty dishes.
Cooking in vain. No one appreciates it.
She was exhausted from work; she was the head nurse at the hospital. Patients arrived with a host of problems and frustrations. Thats how the days wentstress at work, and at home, no warmth or comfort, only more chores. Wash, iron, clean.
Anything else? Mario searched for another can in the fridge. Why isnt there more?
You drank it all! And now you expect me to buy you more? Have some shame, Mario! Antónia snapped.
Sensitive he muttered, slamming the fridge door and heading out to restock before the next match.
Antónia decided to go to bed, as the next day promised a heavy workload. Yet sleep eluded her. She worried about her daughterwhere she was, who she was with? Night was deep and Beatriz hadnt shown up. She called, and her daughter snapped.
You embarrass me in front of my friends! Stop calling! Beatriz shouted over the phone. Antónia stopped dialing, consoling herself with the fact that her daughter had just turned eighteen. She didnt want to work or study. Shed finished high school and decided to take a break to find herself.
After a brief doze, Antónia was awakened by Marios jubilant shouts. Someone must have scored a goal. He then started debating the game with the neighbor, who had dropped by unexpectedly. Later the neighbor brought his girlfriend, and the three of them began cheering. In the early hours, Beatriz returned, clattered dishes, stamped her foot, and went to bed. When quiet finally fell and Antónia could finally drift off, the cat began meowing for food.
In this house, besides me, anyone else willing to feed the cat?! furious and battling a migraine and lack of sleep, Antónia left the bedroom. She wanted to be heard, but her daughter was wearing headphones and merely waved a hand near her head. Mario snored in front of the TV, a can in his hand.
Exhausted how tired I am of all this! Antónia thought.
The next morning, her motherinlaw called to wake her.
Antónia, dear, remember its time to plant the vegetables? We should also go to the village do some cleaning.
I remember Antónia sighed.
Then well go tomorrow.
On her only day off, Antónia tended the garden under her motherinlaws watchful eye.
Dont sweep like that! The broom has to be used differently! she commanded, seated on a bench.
Im almost fifty, Mrs. Teresa, I know how to do it Antónia ventured.
Mario
Wheres your Mario? Why didnt he bring you? Why did we spend three hours on a bus? You only ever talk about Mario, about Mario
He gets tired.
And me? You think I dont get tired?
Antónia regretted not keeping her mouth shut. Mrs. Teresa was a talkative woman who prized fairness, but that fairness never extended to Antónia. All her life, Teresa adored her son, and Antónia was merely a tolerated servant.
On the way back they sat on opposite sides of the bus. The following day, Teresa complained to her son about his daughterinlaws behavior.
How dare you speak to my mother like that?! Mario snapped. If it werent for her
What? Antónia asked, arms crossed. She realized she could no longer endure his ungrateful attitude.
You used to work at the health centre! she recalled, remembering that her motherinlaw had helped her secure a job at the district hospital. The pay was better there, but it cost her nerves and grey hairs. Many times Antónia had regretted swapping the calm of the local centre for the hustle of the hospital. What are you doing? her husband fell silent, watching what Antónia was doing.
What Antónia did next was something Mario could never have imagined!
