Id been my sons free nanny and cook for yearsuntil they saw me at the airport with a one-way ticket.
“Nin, hi! Am I interrupting?” My daughter-in-law Katys voice chirped through the phone, all fake cheerfulness.
I stirred the long-cold soup in silence. Interrupting? I was never too busy when they needed something.
“Im listening, Katy.”
“Weve got newsits massive! Leo and I booked a last-minute holiday, two weeks in Turkey, all-inclusive! Can you believe it?”
I could. Sun, sea, Leo and Katywhile their five-year-old son, Mikey, hovered somewhere off-camera. My grandson.
“Congratulations. Im thrilled for you,” I said flatly, like reading a medicine label.
“So! Youll take Mikey, yeah? He cant go to nursery right nowchickenpox outbreak. Oh, and swimming lessons, dont skip those. Speech therapy next week too, Ill text you the schedule.”
She rushed through it, not letting me get a word in, as if afraid Id refuse. I never refused.
“Katy, I was planning a few days at the cottage while the weathers nice” I began, barely believing my own weak attempt.
“The *cottage*?” She laughed like Id suggested a trip to Mars. “Mum, seriously? Mikey needs you. This isnt a holiday for usits *healthcare*. Sea air, vitamins!”
I stared at the grey courtyard outside. My sea air. My vitamins.
“Oh, and,” she barrelled on, “weve got premium cat food being delivered Wednesdaytwelve kilos. Couriers coming between ten and six, so stay in, yeah? And water the plants, especially the orchid. Shes fussy.”
She listed my duties like they were obvious. I wasnt a personI was a function. A free app installed for their convenience.
“Fine, Katy. Of course.”
“Brilliant! Knew we could count on you!” She gushed like shed done me a favour. “Okay, kisses, gotta pack!”
The line went dead.
I set the phone down. My eyes landed on the wall calendarnext Saturday circled in red, the day I was meant to meet friends I hadnt seen in a year.
I grabbed a damp cloth and wiped the mark away, erasing another tiny piece of my own unlived life.
No anger, no resentmentjust a sticky, hollow emptiness and one quiet question: when would they realise I wasnt just a free service, but a human being?
Probably only when they saw me at the airport with a one-way ticket.
Mikey arrived the next day. Leo hauled in a massive suitcase, a swim bag, and three toy-filled carriers, avoiding my eyes.
“Mum, weve got to dashflights soon,” he muttered, dumping the suitcase in the hall.
Katy breezed in after him, already in holiday modefloral dress, straw hat. She scanned my modest flat with a judging flick of her eyes.
“Nin, dont let Mikey binge cartoonsread to him. And go easy on sweets, or hes impossible.” She handed me a folded sheet. “Everythings hereschedule, contacts, meal plan.”
Like Id never met my own grandson. Like I hadnt raised him since birth while they built careers.
“Katy, I know what he likes,” I said softly.
“Knowing isnt the same as *diet*,” she snapped. “Mikey, be good for Granny! Well bring you a *huge* toy car!”
They left in a cloud of expensive perfume and cold air.
Mikey cried for three days straightswim class across town, speech therapy on the other side, tantrums, midnight tears. I was exhausted.
On day four, I called Leo. Theyd just checked into their hotel.
“Mum? Whats wrong? Is Mikey okay?” His voice was tense.
“Hes fine. Leo Im struggling. Could you hire a nanny for a few hours? Id pay half.”
Silence. Then a sigh.
“Mum, dont start. Katys stressed enough. Whod we even trust? Youre his *grandmother*. This should be *joyful* for you.”
“Joyful doesnt mean easy. Im not getting younger.”
“Youll adjust,” he said firmly. “Lets not ruin the trip. We never get away.”
The call ended.
I wasnt his motherjust a resource. Free, reliable, and always available.
Wednesday, the cat food arrived. The courier dumped twelve kilos on the doorstep and left. I strained my back dragging it inside, then sat laughing silently beside the fish-scented sack.
That night, Katy called. Ocean sounds in the background.
“Nin! Did you water my orchid? *Only* filtered water, remember? Not the leavesthe *roots*!”
She didnt ask about Mikey. Or me. Just the plant.
“Under control, Katy,” I said, eyeing the cursed cat food.
I barely slept. Not thinking of the cottage or my cancelled plansbut of my old savings book and passport, tucked in the drawer. A passing thought had hardened into a plan.
A call came on day ten.
“Mum! We *love* it herehotel offered us another week! Thing is were short on cash.” His voice turned wheedling. “Mum, those sapphire earrings Dad gave youyou never wear them. Pawn them for us?”
I went very still.
“You want me to *what*?”
“Just until were back! Its *things* versus *experiences*, Mum!” Katy chimed in: “Nin, theyre just *earrings*!”
*Just things.* My memories. My family. My lifepawned for their *experiences*.
Something in me crystallisedcold, sharp, final.
“Fine,” I said evenly. “How much?”
“Fifty grand? Youre the *best*! Just photo the receipt”
“Of course, Leo. Enjoy your holiday.”
I hung up, then typed: *Not pawning the earrings. Your tickets end in four days. If youre not back Sunday, Im calling social services Monday.*
His reply: *Are you THREATENING us?!*
I didnt answer. I booked a flight. Antalya. One-way.
They stormed in Sunday nighttan, furious.
“Happy now?” Katy snarled. “Ruined our best holiday ever! Emotional *blackmailer*!”
Leo went straight to Mikey, who hugged him.
I walked out with my passport and ticket. Calm.
“Glad youre back for your son,” I said. “Now listen. Both of you.”
They froze at my tone.
“Five years, Leo. Five years Ive been your shadow. I raised Mikey while Katy got manicures. I lost friends, cancelled plansbecause Mum, we *need* you. You treated me like a *function*.”
I looked at Katy.
“You never once asked how I was. Only about your orchid. You thought Id never leave.”
I set the passport down.
“You were wrong. I love Mikeythats why I waited. But my roles done. *Youre* the parents now. No help, no shortcuts.”
I kissed Mikeys head.
“Granny will be back soon,” I lied.
Then I walked outleaving them with twelve kilos of cat food, a fussy orchid, and full responsibility for their lives.
For the first time in years, I didnt feel empty. I felt something newthe whisper of freedom.
