Emily, has Tom already mentioned it to you? my motherinlaw asked, leaning over the kitchen table. Listen, well have up to twenty guests, so we need to start the preparations this evening. Ill be there early, around six.
Evening? Emily replied skeptically. No, I never agreed to that.
Hold on, Im not finished yet. Ive already sent Tom the shopping list; he promised to buy everything.
Tom had always been the one his older sister Rebecca relied on. By the age of thirty shed been married twice and divorced twice, each time blaming the wrong man. Their mother, Margaret, had been telling her son since he was a boy:
A sister needs help.
So Tom helped. He handed over money when Rebecca was temporarily out of work, patched up her rented flat, and hauled her belongings after every split.
And then he got married.
Emily put up with it at first. But when, for the fifth time in a year, Rebecca asked to borrow their car for a few days because it had broken down again, Emily said gently but firmly:
Tom, isnt this enough? We need the car this weekend too. I thought we had plans
What, you think we can walk? Tom asked.
No. You cant walk to my parents cottage. Theyve harvested two jars of pickles for us. I thought youd heard me mention it.
Ive heard something, but you know Rebecca has an emergency.
Again? What sort?
Im not sure, Tom muttered, but she needs more.
No, Tom. This time I wont let it happen! Either you refuse your sister, or you buy me a car. Im tired of the bus when you could drive me wherever I need to go.
For the first time Tom considered calling Rebecca to say no, but Margaret swooped in:
Are you going to abandon your sister for your wife? Shes alone! Who else will help her?
And Tom was back on the job, despite the arguments with Emily. After a few days of silence, Tom finally snapped:
Why are you quiet?! Upset?
Really? It took you three days to notice? Emily snapped.
I just cant see what exactly?
Emily laughed at his confusion:
Seriously? You dont get it? Your sister whisked you away for the whole weekend because she needed to get to her cottage to visit a friend. I thought youd just give her a lift, but you ended up staying two days. Does that bother you?
Whats there to worry about? I had a few drinks, met her ex, chatted normally. It was a celebration, not something I shouldve missed. What, should I have called?
You could have called, Tom retorted.
I did! Your phone was off. Imagine that! I was on edge, not knowing where my husband was. And you just decided to take a break from me, Emily snapped, her voice rising.
Stop the drama, Tom waved his hand, indicating the phone was ringing.
He stepped onto the balcony and finally answered. He knew Emily wouldnt tolerate another chat with his sister.
Hi, brother! Rebeccas voice chirped. My anniversary is in two weeks! Thirty years! You know what I mean, right?
Tom glanced at Emily, who was stirring soup.
So what do you want? he asked.
You always understand me! Rebecca giggled. I want to celebrate at your place. Youve got a big living room. My rented flat is tiny, and the landlord would complain. The restaurant is pricey.
How about the café? Ill chip in whatever is needed.
Are you out of your mind?! Rebecca fumed. Its an anniversary! You expect me to pay for a venue when you have your own flat? And youll still have to foot the bill. Im not some millionaires daughter.
Let me talk to Emily first. Its her flat too. Maybe she had other plans.
Too late! Rebecca cut in. Ive already told everyone the partys at yours. Clear the flat for the whole day, okay? Mum says shell handle the cooking.
Tom sighed, covering his face with his hand, trying to think of a way out. The phone buzzed again this time a message from his mother.
Rebecca said to sort the menu. Heres the list. We need to buy the ingredients. Ask Emily to help. She can also lend a hand in the kitchen.
At that moment Emily, unaware of Rebeccas upcoming celebration, settled into her armchair with the remote, ready to watch her favourite series. When Tom entered the room, head down, she instantly caught on.
What now? she asked calmly, pausing the show.
Emily, listen Rebecca anniversary, thirty years. You know, its a date. She wants to celebrate.
Emily looked up.
Fine, let her celebrate. Are we banning her?
Tom scratched his scalp.
Its not that. She wants to celebrate at our place.
What?! Emily stood, shocked. Wait, at our flat?
Yes, but only one evening. She says the restaurant is too dear, and her home is cramped
And you agreed?
I said Id speak to you first! But Rebeccas already invited everyone. Mums already planning the menu
Emily closed her eyes, inhaled deeply.
Tom, are you really an adult, or just a mouthpiece for Rebeccas wishes?
What are you starting?
Im starting Emily said, flashing her phone. And nobody even called me? This is my flat, not a transit hub for your relatives. Rebecca wants a party here, Im supposed to help her, and your mum, and nobody asked me!
Just then Emilys phone rang.
Ah, the cherry on the cake, she muttered. Your mum, she gestured with the phone.
Emily, has Tom already told you? the motherinlaw crooned. Look, well have up to twenty people. Well start preparations tonight. Ill arrive around six tomorrow.
Evening? Emily smiled skeptically. No, I didnt sign up for that.
Hold on, Im not done. Tom already has the shopping list, he promised to buy everything.
Suppose Emily shot back. And the money? Where are we getting it?
Tom promised to help, Margaret replied shortly.
Right. So you expect us to turn our flat into a restaurant and foot the bill? Emily was losing patience.
Rebecca isnt a stranger! Isnt it easy to spend one day slicing veg, making salads, preparing sandwiches Youre the lady of the house!
Margaret, Emily interrupted, I just learned about the party. I never gave permission for Rebeccas birthday to be held in my flat.
You keep saying my flat. You and Tom are married. Everythings joint! the motherinlaw snapped.
Dont say that. If it were Toms flat, youd say the same. Then Id just be a housewife.
Stop the nonsense. Conversations over. By Friday we need to buy everything, Margaret said and hung up.
What was that? Emily asked Tom, hearing the short beeps.
Stop playing the victim! Tom finally said. Youve been told youre wrong. Admit your mistake and stop digging your heels in.
Emily was stunned. She rose, opened the wardrobe, and silently pulled out a large sports bag. She then went to the bedroom, opened the chest of drawers and methodically folded Toms shirts and jeans.
Meanwhile Tom, feeling victorious, flung open the fridge, grabbed a bottle of lager, slammed the door and plonked himself in front of the television as if nothing had changed.
He thought Emily would cool off and everything would return to normal. Shed grumble a bit, then calm down. He even switched the football on, expecting her to call him for dinner. He was wrong.
Half an hour later Emily stood in the hallway with a shopping bag, a sports bag stuffed to the brim with Toms stuff at her side. Tom left the lounge to fetch a drink, but stopped when he saw her.
Whats that supposed to be? he muttered. What kind of drama is this?
Emily stared at him coldly:
This isnt drama, Tom. Its the end. Im done being a shadow in my own life, a servant in our flat, a prop for your mothers and sisters whims. If you want to be a good son and brother, please, go back to your mum. Help her prepare for the party. Im sure shell gladly give you a corner in her living room.
Are you serious? he took a step forward. Im not going back.
Absolutely serious, Emily nodded. I dont want you coming back. Ive tolerated enough that I now question my own sanity. Enough is enough. If you havent learned to respect me in three years, things wont get better.
Emily you cant just tear everything apart! Not now!
You cant destroy whats already broken.
Tom grimaced, still not grasping that Emily had made up her mind.
And thats that, Emily added, all your shirts and jeans are right here. No need to thank me. Get out now.
He tried to say something, but Emily opened the front door. Tom stood, cheeks flushed with anger, lips clenched. He still hoped Emily might relent, but her calm only fuelled his fury.
Brilliant! he shouted. Think youll find someone better? There are plenty out there!
Emily smirked and took a step back:
Finding someone like you thatll be a challenge. Thank God for that.
Youll regret this! Tom yelled, snatching at the bag. Youll be crawling on your knees when you realise no one wants to talk to you! Without me youre nobody!
If nobody means a person who lives in their own flat, works, doesnt cater to aging inlaws or put up with rudeness, then Im happy being no one.
Tom left, and Emily was left alone. She took a deep breath, walked to the window, pulled back the curtain and watched as her exhusband shoved the bag into the boot of a taxi.
Months passed.
The divorce was painful. Tom tried to paint Emily as greedy and materialistic. The biggest fight was over the car theyd bought during the marriage. He insisted hed paid for it alone; Emily argued shed also used it.
Your honour, I paid for the vehicle, its in my name! he declared confidently. My wife contributed nothing!
Emily calmly spread a folder of bank statements, receipts, and a signed advancepayment agreement.
Im not claiming his half, but I wont give up mine, she said evenly.
The judge ruled in her favour.
Tom didnt like it. Hed already labelled the car his. Now hed have to sell it and split the proceeds. He left the courtroom with a scowl.
At home, no one waited for him with sympathy.
Are you an idiot? Margaret shouted. You gave her everything! The car! The flat! You shouldve hired a decent solicitor!
On top of that, Tom had taken out a loan to fund Rebeccas anniversary dinner at a restaurant, because hed helped her with the flat. Now he was left with a cramped corner in Margarets spare room.
Emily, for the first time in ages, slept peacefully. She decided she was still young enough to leave men like Tom behind. Good men were out there; she just needed to recognise who they were.
