Lucy is terrible. Really terrible you almost feel sorry for her, such a terrible Lucy. Everyone keeps telling her shes awful, miserable even. Of course she has no husband, her son is grown and lives on his own. Lucy is alone, nobody needs her.
She arrives at work on Monday, and the women brag to each other about how they cleaned the house all weekend, who tended the garden, who made jam. Lucy stays silent what could she say? She has nothing to talk about; she has no man, her child is grown, so she just goes through the motions.
She left early today, as she does a couple of times a month, and the others shake their heads disapprovingly. They all know where shes heading: to meet her many lovers. Everyone at the office is convinced Lucy has a horde of boyfriends because shes such a bad girl.
Lucy, her mother says, why are you like this?
What do you mean, Mum?
Youre a mess, love. At least find yourself a bloke, for Gods sake, darling. Its not too late to have another baby everyones having children after forty now.
Mum, why would I need some bloke? Why a second baby with some bloke? I already have Leo, and Ive got Oliver, Lucy replies, eyes widening.
Lucy! Wake up! Oliver isnt your man!
How can he not be? He is he invites me out once a week, brings gifts, helps me plan a holiday, never makes me wash his mothers windows, never forces me to do his laundry, never asks for a fancy dinner, never piles problems on my shoulders, never hogs the sofa.
Of course, all that goes to his poor wife.
And you want that to be me?
No, Im fortyplus, Ive been married twice, remember? I ran away from my first husband, Leos father, when I was barely eighteen because everyone told me an older man is wiser, richer, and will love me. I spent five years locked in a miserable marriage, forbidden to study, forbidden to see friends, even forbidden to look after Leo, for fear Id mess something up. At least I was living in a nice home, right? Hed parade me around once a month like a trophy, showing off his young, proper wife while the rest of us were just dolls. He never shied away from those dolls, visited them often.
When Lucy finally fled and filed for divorce, her beloved grandmother helped, but he demanded everything back, even the underwear. The second time she married for love, she was studying and working, trying to avoid being a freeloader for her fatherinlaw. She juggled daytime classes like a curse, chased stolen chances, and worked evenings just to keep from leaning on anyone.
Mum, have I ever blamed you for this? Lucy asks, tears in her voice.
Did I ever refuse you a slice of bread or a bowl of soup? her mother snaps.
No, Mum but theres also the other side. Theres the dad who feared Id overstep and sit on his sturdy neck with a child in tow.
What are you talking about?
The father, the brother, Nikita, the little one who never got settled. He has a mother too You work two jobs, rush home, squeeze in the shop because the kids are starving one on the sofa, the other at the computer. You cook, clean, wash, iron I married again out of love, not because I had to. What changed? Nothing. More chores piled up. Lucy used to be Angelica, now Lucy owes everyone.
Her partner lounges on the sofa, Lucy dashes to work, then to the nursery, trying not to burden the man with her child, even if he were his. She carries the groceries, the car keys, the endless list of tasks. Why should the husband be the one to take the tram to work? she mutters, echoing every womans exhaustion. Who will cook dinner?
She prepares the meal, sets the table, feeds the kids, does the laundry, then is told to please make her husband happy, otherwise hell run off lefthanded. Short on cash? Its your child whos short. If youd had your own blood, maybe youd get some help. But no, look for a bloke wholl support you and your brood.
Dont blame the car repair money on me, she says. Were a family, right? Compare our earnings you do nothing, I work hard.
Lucky you, the other sighs.
Leaving? Lucy asks.
Off you go then, who needs you with a kid?
She recalls her past marriages one to a rich older man, one to a lover who actually cared. Both left her drained, but she kept surviving.
Lucy, thats how life is, dear, her mother tells her.
Let them live, Mum! I wont, Lucy retorts.
How was your Saturday?
Oh, Nathan and Molly dropped Olivia and Vicky off with Grandpa. I baked pancakes, dusted, vacuumed, mopped the floor, washed clothes, tucked the kids in, fed their father, ironed, then fell asleep around one.
The next morning the kids begged for pancakes, she fried chicken, tossed a salad, even baked pizza, fed everyone, and by eleven she was collapsed on the sofa.
Mum, I dont recall ever fighting with Leo, or running away with my eyes wide open, she says.
Youve always been independent, Lucy, and words fail.
She tells her mother how she spent the weekend: Friday night Leo called, asked if Id look after Milo, his cat, while they headed to the hills. Of course I said yes. Milo is Marinas cat, but if you werent busy with Nathans family, youd know what your eldest grandson is up to. They dropped a cat, a pizza, and left. I ate the pizza, bingewatched a series, didnt have to jump up early Saturday.
Morning she fed Milo, brewed coffee, dusted, tossed a few things in the washing machine, called her mum to suggest a museum trip. Dad answered, called her a lazybones, said Mum was working hard, dealing with nieces and nephews while she pranced around museums. She thought about being offended, then gave up Dads always right.
She went to the museum, saw an exhibition of Mums favourite painter, later stopped for coffee, shopped, remembered Milo, returned home to find the cat sleeping. She collapsed on the sofa, watched a series. Sunday she slept with Milo until eleven, tried to invite Mum for a rivertram ride, but Masha answered the phone, mouth full, saying Mum was busy washing dishes or clearing the table.
That evening Oliver called, invited her to a restaurant. She went, didnt refuse shes a free woman, not interested in his marital drama, just his company. The night was lovely, she slept well, woke refreshed and went to work.
I try to date unattached men, Mum, she says. Its a nightmare. Either kids cling to me like mothers, or I get the bitter exwives, divorced men with heaps of children.
What do you think of me, Mum? she asks. The world changed, you know. One bloke told me I must take his children because Im a woman, love children by default. Hell pay alimony, support his exwife, because shes the mother of his kids. Hell live on my salary, spend his spare cash on fishing, feed me tasty fish.
When she asks if hell help her own child, he snaps back, Leo has his own dad, let him help.
Fair, right? Lucy smirks. Thats why Im the bad one petty, greedy, scheming. I wanted to pin my child on a poor man and live comfortably.
So Mum, Ive found Oliver, she declares. Im bad in your eyes, but Im not ashamed of how I live. It hurts to see you suffering, so I try to pull you out of the house, even today I lied to you and Dad that I needed help.
Mum, everythings fine. Lets go do something for yourself, spend time with me, your daughter.
Youve gone mad, Lucy, what about Dad?
Whats wrong with Dad? Is he ill?
No, but lunch?
I cant believe you havent prepared lunch.
It needs reheating, and Nathan
Mum! Im serious I know Im bad, let me be good for once, lets rest please.
At work on Monday the women share how exhausted they are. Lucy smiles slyly, everyone knows Lucy is the bad one. She walks with a swagger, smiling at something only she understands. Everyone can guess whats swirling in Lucys head of course, its all the usual terrible thoughts.
