Did we drive her away? Sam asked, his voice trembling as tears welled up. Does Mum no longer love us? Is she leaving because were a bother?
His father glanced sideways at Margaret, who was packing her belongings, her eyes so plaintive she might have broken into sobs herself. She froze, unsure whether it was guilt or sheer exhaustion that pressed harder upon her.
It had all begun with a harmless joke from her husband. The night before, Margaret had announced she intended to spend International Womens Day alone, away from the family. The house erupted in a clamor. Anthony could not forbid it, but he voiced every thought that crossed his mind and then began to prod the childrenfiveyearold Sam and sevenyearold Arthur.
Did you hear the news, lads? he said in a tone that tried to sound casual, even cheerful, yet hid a thinly veiled accusation. Our mum is getting fed up with us and is leaving.
The children were struck with terror. Arthurs brow furrowed, Sams eyes widened.
Is she really going away for good? the youngest asked, bewildered.
Not sure yet, Anthony shrugged. Maybe shell get used to the idea and decide to go for good.
To him it was all banter. To the children it was serious. Sam threw a tantrum, and Lilyyes, Lily, the familys steadfast aunt spent the evening soothing him. She hoped Anthony had learned a lesson, but the next day the same pattern repeated.
Come on, Sam, dont cry. Your father still loves you. Im not going anywhere, just off to work, Anthony replied lightly to his son.
Lilys patience frayed, held together only by the tears that fell from Sams cheeks. She sat beside the younger boy, a gentle hand resting on his cheek.
Sam, love, its not what you think, she began, echoing her words from the night before. I just need a day to be alone. Look, Father spends every Sunday with Uncle Peter and his mates. Mum needs a break too.
Once, Lily could not have imagined tiring of the people she loved. She and Anthony had seemed the perfect pair: cycling together, going to the cinema, discussing the books theyd read. They kept a small family ritualeach Sunday trying a new café or restaurant, sampling unfamiliar dishes.
Now Sundays belonged entirely to Anthony. Their conversations had shifted from literature to vaccination schedules and nursery fees. Together they only visited childrens fairs or the shop for groceries.
When Arthur was born, things held together, if only tenuously. Either Anthony or one of the grandmothers would sit with the baby, leaving Lily occasional moments for herself. The arrival of the second child, Sam, changed everything. Only Lily could manage both.
My dear, I love them both, his motherinlaw would say, trying to justify herself. But understandcaring for one barely keeps me afloat. The two together made a racket the last time! Remember that rocking horse by the TV? It survived seven children, but these two tore it apart while trying to sit on it together.
The grandmothers visits grew sparse, at best a brief show of support; she stopped taking the grandchildren, claiming shed already given all she could.
Anthony treated time with the children like an occasional snackonly when it suited him. Tired, he would barricade himself in another room and spend the evening there.
Whats the problem? he would ask, surprised by Lilys complaints. Im just sitting quietly, not bothering anyone. Its not my fault; youre the one who cant relax. Youre always wiping and cleaning. Calm down, have a rest. Youre too tense.
It was easy for him to speak, for he did nothing around the house. Lily knew that if she ever laid down her arms, they would grow moss.
She felt emotionally burnt out. Over time Lily began to shout more, to snap. The children irritated her when, for the fifth time in two minutes, they claimed they didnt want tomatoes. Her husband, coming home from work and slamming the door, drove her to the brink. Everything around her seemed to push her over the edge, yet she held on.
Then Sams birthday arrived.
For three days Lily had been cleaning and cooking. Sam wanted to invite his nursery friends, which meant also inviting their parents. Lily blitzed through the flat, baked two cakes, prepared salads, marinated the meat, arranging everything so she could finally get some sleep.
But it didnt work out that way.
Sam was the first to wake, immediately trying to rouse his mother.
Sleep! Lily snapped. Or sit quietly until Im up. Let Mum have her rest!
Sam whined that he was bored and hungry.
Patience, his mother cut sharply.
Lily was so drained she could barely rise. Sleep eluded her; Sams cries only made it harder.
Soon Arthur stirred. As the responsible older brother, he tried to solve the problem: he took Sams hand and led him to the kitchen. Lily exhaled, hoping she might finally relax a little, when a clatter of dishes rang out.
She sprang up as if the children had shattered not a plate but her last nerve. The boys bustled about, clearing shards. On the nearby table lay a box of cereal and a bottle of milk; a chair leaned against the cupboard. It seemed the children had decided to make breakfast themselves, but had misjudged their strength.
I asked you to help! Lily erupted. How many times must I say it? Cant you survive five minutes without me? If I werent here, would you ever appreciate what I do for you?
She shouted for what felt like three minutes, words spilling out in a frantic, incoherent torrent. Sam pressed his head against her shoulder. Arthur crossed his arms and lowered his gaze. Lily finally stopped when the youngest began to sob, rubbing his eyes with his fists.
Alright, alright, settle down Mum will tidy up now, then well go for a walk and pick up some toys, she said, her voice trembling.
The fear that seized Lily was genuine. Yes, theyd broken a plate, but she reacted as if the whole house had collapsed. It was far from normal.
The next day Lily sought advice from a friend. Lucy, a mother of three, still managed to keep herself together, so Lily trusted her judgment.
Of course youre exhausted, Lucy said. Youre carrying everything on your own. Let me guessInternational Womens Day is coming up, and youll be expected to host your motherinlaw and your own mum again. Another marathon of cooking for two days straight.
Yes, Lily replied. What else can I do?
Wake up, Lily! Womens Day was created for women, not to turn us into relentless house servants. My husband gave me a day off in the country. Come with meI’ve got a cottage with spare rooms.
After a bit of thought Lily agreed. It sounded sensible. She ordered the two books shed long wanted to read, packed a basket of groceries, and told the family her plans had changed.
Her own mother took it calmly, saying she should rest. Her motherinlaw was surprised but didnt protest. Anthony, however
So youve decided to run away from us? People spend this day with family, not abandon it, he said.
Lily explained at length that it wasnt betrayal, just a need for rest. Anthony didnt agree, but he didnt try to stop her.
Fine, go wherever you like, even to the moon if you must, he muttered as a final jab.
Thatll be my next trip, Lily retorted.
Later he began teasing the children again, and Lily could take no more. When Sam and Arthur finally fell asleep, she approached her husband for a serious talk.
Listen, stop with the jokes. Because of you the children think I dont love them. Did you see Sams eyes this morning?
Its nothing, just little things. Theyre children; theyll forget by sunrise. And whats wrong with you? You should be home today, not gallivanting elsewhere, he shrugged.
Lily sighed slowly. He brushed her off again, as if she were invisible. She was fed up.
You know what, love? All your evenings are quiet because dad gets tired, and Sunday is your day. Ive been on the front line for seven years, without a single day off. Im not running away; I just need a breath so I dont snap at the children. Its not their faultits you. I have to shout at you, she said, eyes narrowed.
Me? What does that have to do with me? he retorted.
It does! Ive explained a thousand times, but you never hear me. Lets try this differently. Sunday is your day? Fine. But now every Saturday is mine. Spend at least one day a week with the kids. After all, theyre your children too.
He resisted, but eventually gave in, realizing the alternative was each of them having to look after a child alonesomething Lily could not manage.
International Womens Day passed unusually quietly. They had arrived at the cottage the night before, so Lily awoke not to childrens cries but to the gentle hush of the countryside. She lingered in bed with a book, then laughed with Lucy over university anecdotes, planning how to coax the other girls from their internetaddicted circles into a countryside trek.
By evening Margaret sat on the veranda, breathing the fresh air, watching ants carry the crumb of bread shed left behind. Her mind was empty, yet bright, like a room that had finally been cleared of clutter and its windows flung open. For the first time in seven years, no one tugged at her, no one demanded, no one criticized.
Lucy raised her glass and toasted Margaret.
Heres to you on Womens Day, Mum. Finally youre not just a mother, she smiled.
Margaret returned the smile. It was only for a day, but she finally remembered what it felt like to be herselfnot a mother, not a wife, but a person with wishes and a right to a pause.
