Emily, has Thomas already told you? asks Margaret, Thomass mother, as she steps into the kitchen. Listen, well have up to twenty guests, so we start cooking this evening. Ill arrive early, around six.
What? In the evening? Emily asks, skeptical. No, I never agreed to that.
Hold on, Im not finished. Thomas already sent me a grocery list; he promised to buy everything.
Thomas always steps in for his older sister, Rachel. By thirty, Rachel has married twice and divorced twice, each time blaming the wrong bloke. Their mother, Margaret Clarke, has been telling her son since he was a child:
A sister always needs a hand.
And Thomas does. He funds Rachel when shes temporarily out of work, fixes up her rented flat, and hauls her belongings after each split.
Then he gets married.
Emily, his wife, tolerates it at first. But when Rachel, for the fifth time this year, asks to borrow their car for a few days because it broke down again, Emily says calmly but firmly:
Thomas, isnt it enough? We need the car this weekend too. I thought we had plans
Whats the problem? Cant you walk?
No. You cant walk to my parents cottage. Theyve put together two buckets of cucumbers for us. I thought you heard me when I mentioned it.
I heard something, but you know Rachels in a crisis.
Again? What exactly?
Im not sure, Thomas mutters, but she needs it more.
No, Thomas. This time it ends! 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.
Thomas pauses, about to call Rachel and decline, when Margaret steps in:
Are you going to abandon your sister for your wife? Shes alone! Who else will help her?
So Thomas obliges again, despite the spats with Emily. After a few days of not speaking, Thomas cant take it any longer:
Why are you silent? Did I upset you?
Really? It took you three days to notice? Emily retorts.
I just cant what exactly?
Emily laughs at the confusion:
Seriously? You dont get it? Your sister took you away for the whole weekend because she needed to get to a friends cottage. I thought youd just drop her off, but you ended up staying there for two days. Does that bother you at all?
Whats there to worry about? A few drinks, her ex showing up, a bit of celebration. Why should I have driven? It would have looked odd.
You could have at least called.
You could have called too, Thomas snaps.
I did! Your phone was switched off. Imagine my nerves, not knowing where my husband is. And he just decides to take a break from me, Emily fumes.
Stop making things up, Thomas waves his hand, indicating a call.
Thomas steps onto the balcony and finally answers. He knows his wife wont appreciate another chat with his sister.
Hey, brother! Rachel chirps on the line. My anniversary is in two weeks! Thirty years! You get it, right?
Thomas glances at Emily, who is ladling soup.
So what do you want? he asks.
You always understand me! Rachel giggles. I want to celebrate at your place! Youve got a big living room. My rented flat is cramped, and the landlord would be furious. Restaurants are pricey.
Maybe we should do a café? Ill chip in whatever is needed.
Are you out of your mind?! Rachel exclaims. This is an anniversary! You expect me to foot the bill for a venue when you have your own flat? And youll still have to add more. Im not some millionaires daughter.
Let me talk to Emily first. Its her flat too. Maybe she has other plans.
Too late! Rachel interrupts. Ive already told everyone the partys at your house. Clear the flat for the whole day, okay? Mum will handle the food.
Thomas sighs and covers his face with his hand, trying to figure a way out. The phone buzzes againthis time a text from his mother:
Rachel said to draft a menu. Heres the list of dishes. We still need to buy the ingredients. Ask Emily to help. She can also lend a hand in the kitchen.
At that moment Emily, unaware of Rachels upcoming celebration, settles into an armchair with her phone, ready to watch her favourite series. When Thomas walks in, eyes down, she instantly pieces everything together.
So whats happening now? she asks calmly, pausing the show.
Emily, listen Rachels anniversary, thirty years. You know, a date. She wants to mark it.
Emily looks up.
Fine, let her celebrate. Are we banning her?
Thomas scratches his head.
Its not that. She wants to celebrate at our place.
What?! Emily jumps up. Wait, at our flat?
Yes, just for one night. She says restaurants are expensive and her place is tiny
And you agreed?
I said Id talk to you first! But Rachels already invited everyone. Mums already planning the menu
Emily closes her eyes, inhales deeply.
Thomas, are you really an adult or just a messenger for Rachels wishes?
What are you starting?
Im starting, Emily says with a hint of sarcasm, holding up her phone. And what about the fact nobody even called me? This is my flat, not a transit hub for your relatives. Rachel wants to party here, I have to help her, I have to assist your mother, and nobody even asked me!
At that moment Emilys phone rings.
Oh, the cherry on top, she sighs. Your mum, she waves the phone at Thomas.
Emily, has Thomas told you? Margaret repeats, as if on a loop. Look, well have up to twenty people, so we start preparing this evening. Ill be there around six tomorrow.
Evening? Emily repeats, amused. No, I never signed up for that.
Hold on, Im not finished. Thomas already has a grocery list; he promised to buy everything.
Suppose Emily mutters. And the money? Where do we get it?
Thomas promised to help, Margaret answers shortly.
Right, so you want to turn my flat into a restaurant and well foot the bill? Emily cant hold back.
Rachel isnt a stranger! Cant you spare a day, cut some veg, make salads, sandwiches Youre the lady of the house!
Margaret, Emily interrupts, I just found out about the party. I never gave permission for Rachels birthday in my flat.
You keep saying my flat. You and Thomas are married. Everything is joint! the mother-inlaw snaps.
Dont say that. If it were Thomass flat, youd speak differently. Then Id just be a dependent.
Stop the nonsense. Conversations over. By Friday we need to buy everything, Margaret declares and hangs up.
What was that? Emily asks Thomas, hearing the click of the line.
Stop playing the victim! Thomas finally shouts. Youve been told youre wrong. Admit it and stop digging your heels in.
Emily is stunned. She stands, opens the wardrobe, and silently pulls out a large sports bag. She then goes to the bedroom, opens the dresser and begins packing Thomass shirts and jeans in a methodical rhythm.
Meanwhile Thomas, feeling triumphant, throws open the fridge, grabs a bottle of lager, slams the fridge door, and plops down in front of the TV as if nothing happened.
He assumes Emily will cool off and everything will return to normal. Shell be a bit annoyed, then calm down. He even switches on the football, expecting Emily to wander in and call him to dinner. Hes wrong.
Half an hour later Emily stands in the hallway with a shopping bag, a sports bag stuffed to the brim with Thomass stuff beside her. Thomas steps out of the lounge, heading for the fridge, and sees his wife.
Whats this now? he mutters. What kind of drama is this?
Emily looks at him coldly:
This isnt drama, Thomas. Its the end. Im done being a shadow in my own life, a servant in my own flat, a backdrop for your mothers and sisters whims. If you want to be a good son and brother fine go back to mum and help her plan the party. Im sure shell gladly give you a corner in her living room.
Are you serious? he steps toward her. Im not going back.
Absolutely serious, Emily nods. I dont want you returning. Ive tolerated enough that I now even question myself. Enough is enough. If you cant learn to respect me in three years, things will only get worse.
Emily you cant just ruin everything in one breath! he pleads.
You cant destroy whats already broken, she replies.
Thomas grimaces, still not grasping that Emily has made her final decision.
And thats it, Emily adds, all your shirts and jeans are here. Take what you like. No thanks needed. Leave now.
He tries to say something, but Emily opens the front door. Thomas stands, his face flushed with anger. His cheeks burn, his lips are clenched. He still hopes Emily will cave, but her calm only fuels his fury.
Well, thats it! he shouts. Think youll find someone better? Good luck finding a replacement like me!
Emily sighs and steps back:
Finding someone like you thatll be a real challenge. Thank God for that.
Youll regret this! Thomas yells, grabbing the bag. Youll be on your knees when you realise nobody wants to talk to you! Without me youre nothing!
If nothing means a person who lives in his own flat, works, doesnt cater to his relatives, and wont put up with abuse, then Id rather be nothing.
Thomas storms out, and Emily stays alone. She takes a deep breath, moves to the window, pulls the curtain aside and watches him shove the bag into a taxi boot.
Months pass.
The divorce is messy. Thomas tries to paint Emily as greedy and materialistic. The biggest fight centers on the car they bought together. He insists he paid for it alone; Emily argues she also used it.
Your Honour, I paid every penny, the car is in my name! he declares confidently. My wife contributed nothing!
Emily calmly opens a folder of documents, spreads bank statements, transfer receipts, and a signed deposit agreement across the table.
Im not claiming his share, but I wont give up mine, she says evenly.
The judge sides with fairness.
Thomas doesnt like it. He had already considered the car his. Now he must sell it and split the proceeds. He leaves the courtroom, his face twisted with rage.
At home, he doesnt find support, only a barrage of accusations.
Are you an idiot? Margaret shouts. You gave her everything! The car! The flat! And you didnt even hire a decent solicitor!
On top of that, Thomas had taken out a loan to fund Rachels anniversary dinner at a restaurant, because he had promised her a venue. Now he has a cramped corner in Margarets guest room as his new sanctuary.
Emily finally sleeps peacefully for the first time in ages. She decides shes still young enough to walk away from men like Thomas. Good, decent partners are out there the key is to recognise whos who when the time comes.
