Mum, why wasnt I invited to your birthday? My hand clutches the phone so tightly my knuckles pale. You know the reason Mum exhales. After you walked away from the family Dad cant let it go. And James well, hes always stood by Victoria, whos never had much time for you either.
Catherine stands before her reflection, blending eyeshadow across her eyelids. For once, the children are settled elsewhere friends have finally persuaded her to step out and clear her mind. The divorce isnt yet official, but she cant bear to share a home with her husband any longer.
Youre breaking us apart, Dad repeats.
You always make life difficult, my brother chimes in.
Shes long since given up trying to justify herself. Whats the use? The men in her family will never see things from her perspective.
Still, it stings when Mum says nobodys flawless, that Catherines head is always in the clouds. No one seems to understand her discontent. Clearly, the fault must lie with her.
Her mobile rings. Helens voice, bright as ever, comes through:
Ready? The taxis waiting outside!
Yes, Im on my way.
The children are already tucked up in bed their grandmother has kindly agreed to watch over them. Not my own mother, whos intent on punishing me for seeking a divorce, but my mother-in-law, the only one who doesnt seem to hold a grudge.
Will you be alright? I ask as I leave. Ring me if you need anything. Dont hesitate!
Of course, off you go! She waves me out. Theyre not little ones anymore. You deserve a night off at least once a year.
I nod, but something twists inside. Once a year. I havent been anywhere in three years except school plays and parent evenings.
The club is bustling and fashionable. I feel uneasy its been ages since I last went out, danced, or felt like anything but a mother, a wife, or the one who wrecked a proper family.
Music thunders. Lights flicker, laughter bounces off the walls, strangers crowd close, the air thick with the scent of lager and expensive cologne.
Finally! Helen seizes my hand. Weve already started without you!
I grin and finish my first drink in one gulp. Goodness, its been ages.
Fancy a dance?
Maybe in a bit, I
And then I spot them.
At the main table in the centre my brother James, his wife Victoria in a glittering dress, Dad with a glass of prosecco, Aunt Linda, Uncle Victor My entire family.
What My voice falters.
Helen follows my gaze:
Oh, isnt that your lot? What are the odds!
A coincidence?
Suddenly, it dawns on me. Wednesday. Mums birthday.
Mum, your birthdays on Wednesday, isnt it? Id asked a few days ago. We always celebrate on Saturday. Same as usual this year?
Mum had looked away, avoiding my eyes.
Oh, whats the point, do we need to celebrate every year? Not this time, Cathy, theres too much going on
Too much going on? Of course. Too much meant everyone gathering without me. Marking the day. Im the outsider. The one who spoiled everything.
Are you alright? Helens face falls.
I step back, slowly.
Me? Yes I need to get home.
What?! Youve only just arrived!
But Im already heading for the door, heart racing, eyes burning with tears. No one in my family notices me.
In the cab, I lean my forehead against the glass and finally let the tears fall. Quiet, silent. They didnt want me there. Maybe they never did.
The taxi stops outside my flat, but I hesitate to get out. Inside, Im burning with pain, shame, and that endless question: why? Whats wrong with me?
Before I can close the car door, my phone pings. A message from James: Hey. Its Mums birthday today. Did you wish her happy birthday?
I sit on the bench by the entrance and type back:
I was there. You just didnt notice. I close my eyes. Breathe. Delete the message.
The phone vibrates again. Mum.
Hello? My voice shakes.
Are you alright? Mum whispers, as if someone might overhear. James says youre not replying
I was at the club.
A pause.
Which club?
The same one youre all at.
Silence. Then a muffled sound, as if shes covered the receiver.
You you saw us?
Yes.
Another long pause.
Mum why? My grip on the phone tightens again.
You know why she sighs. When you left the family your father cant forgive you. And James well, hes always been for Victoria, who doesnt think much of you either.
And you?
Silence.
The answer is obvious.
At home, the children sleep. My mother-in-law sees my face and says nothing just pours me a mug of tea with honey:
Drink up. Youre shaking.
I take the mug, and suddenly break down like a child:
They were at the club. Threw a big party. Without me. On purpose. They dont want me there.
She squeezes my hand:
It hurts. Let yourself cry, itll help. Then ask yourself do you really want to be around people like that? Are they worth your tears?
Hard to say, I think Ive been alone for ages, only now its official, I reply. Tell me, why are you on my side? Ive always wondered.
I know my son well, love. I saw from the start you two were never truly suited. But you tried so hard, and thats worth respect. And you gave me wonderful grandchildren.
I smile. Its true, I tried to be a good wife. Even though I wanted a divorce after just eighteen months.
Im tired of bending, of endless compromise. My husbands in the army home only to rest.
I was just twenty, longing for a simple life, not this endless performance as the perfect housewife and cheerful spouse who managed everything.
But everywhere I heard: theres something wrong with you if you want to leave a man like that. Not him, not the marriage me, Catherine, I was the problem, unable to live normally And I believed it
I silenced myself, learned recipes from my mother-in-law, brought two children into the world. But nothing helped I was miserable, never able to settle with my husband.
I realised life was already hard enough without forcing myself to fit someone else. He never hurt me, no.
He just never saw my needs or understood my turmoil. After ten years, we had nothing in common but the children.
The morning after the party, a message from Dad arrived:
Youve ruined things again. Mums upset.
I didnt reply. Instead, I opened my laptop, messaged Alice, and started searching for tickets. I needed to get away. Even for a little while.
Two weeks later, I stood at the station with three suitcases and two children.
Mum, where are we going? my eldest, Lizzie, asked.
On holiday! For the first time in ages, I smiled.
Will we be back soon?
I dont know!
The train carried us south to the sea, to warm breezes, to the scent of salt that would wash away the pain, the guilt, the lump in my throat that had been there for years.
At first, the children were bewildered, but soon they pressed their faces to the window for them, it was an adventure.
Mum, are we really going to live by the sea? asked Ivan, his eyes shining.
We are.
Id bought tickets to a small coastal town where, before marriage, Id spent my summers.
My old friend Alice lived there, and when my marriage first began to unravel, shed written: If you ever need to, come. Theres room.
Alice met us at the station hugged me tight, no fuss:
Itll all work out, was all she said.
And somehow, I believed her.
The first days felt strange: I woke to silence (no calls, no reproaches), made coffee, and gazed at the sea. The children ran wild on the beach, shouting with delight.
Within two weeks, I got my first job offer. Alices neighbours needed a tutor for their son. I spoke English fluently.
A month later, the phone rang. Mum.
Have you forgotten us completely? Her voice trembled, but not with anger something else.
No, Mum. But I needed to leave.
A pause.
We we were wrong. Im sorry.
I smiled:
You know, Mum, Im not angry. But I need time.
And the children?
I looked out the window. Ivan and Lizzie were building a sandcastle.
Theyre fine.
I never went back.
Ten years on, Im still in that seaside town, teaching English in groups and one-to-one. Word of mouth keeps me busy.
Lizzie attends art school and dreams of becoming an art historian her essay on local artists was even published in the town paper.
Ivan at fifteen, hes hopeless at maths but wins swimming competitions.
Theyre not perfect, but theyre happy. No more youre not good enough. My mother-in-law visits every summer, never mentioning the new daughter-in-law.
Mums visited twice. Last time, she sat on the veranda, sipping pomegranate juice, and suddenly said:
Im sorry, Catherine, for not inviting you that time. It was cruel.
Dad Dad passed away last year. Left money for the grandchildren. James and Victoria split up, and he later married Irene. He sends postcards and promises to visit.
Its not perfect reconciliation. But for Catherine, its enough.
And as for my personal life? Im not alone, but Ive no wish to live with a man again. Not yet. When the children fly the nest well see. For now, Im content
If you have thoughts about my mothers actions, leave a comment. Give a like.
Tonight, as I write this, I realise: sometimes, the hardest thing is to accept you deserve happiness, even if it means starting over.
“Mum, Why Didn’t You Invite Me to Your Birthday?” She Gripped the Phone Until Her Knuckles Turned White. “You Know Why…” Her Mother Sighed. “When You Left the Family… Dad Can’t Forgive You. And Dima… Well, He’s Always Sided with Svetlana, Who Doesn’t Respect You Either.”
