What did we do to her? Sam asks, sniffling. Does Mum not love us any more? Is she leaving because were in the way?
Anthony glances sideways at Margaret, who is gathering her things with such a plaintive sigh that she could break down herself. She freezes, unsure whether conscience or exhaustion presses harder on her.
It all started with a harmless joke from her husband. The day before, Margaret announced she intends to spend International Womens Day alone, away from the family. The house erupts. Anthony cant stop it, but he says exactly what he thinks and then starts teasing the children: fiveyearold Sam and sevenyearold Arthur.
Did you hear, kids? Mums up and leaving us. Weve worn her out, weve driven her off, Anthony tosses the line in a breezy, almost cheerful tone, though a hidden complaint lurks behind it.
The kids jump in terror. Arthur frowns, Sam widens his eyes.
Leaving for good? the youngest asks, confused.
Well, I dont know. Not yet. But who knows, maybe shell make a habit of it, Anthony shrugs.
For him its all a joke. The children take it seriously. Sam throws a tantrum, and Emily, yes Emily, spends the whole evening soothing him. She hopes Anthony has learned a lesson, but today the same pattern repeats.
Come on, Sam, dont cry. Dad still loves you. Im not going anywhere, just off to work, Anthony replies nonchalantly.
Emily almost loses it herself, stopped only by the tears in Sams eyes. She sits beside her younger son and strokes his cheek.
Sam, its not what you think. I just want a single day to be by myself, she begins, echoing yesterdays words. Look, Dad spends every Sunday relaxing with his brother Paul and his mates. Mum also needs a break sometimes.
Emily never imagined shed grow tired of the people she loves. Once, she and Anthony seemed the perfect pair: cycling together, going to the cinema, chatting about books. They had a small family tradition: every Sunday they tried a new café or restaurant, tasting fresh dishes.
Now Sunday belongs entirely to Anthony, and instead of books they argue about vaccination schedules and nursery fees. The only outings they share are childrens exhibitions and grocery trips.
When Arthur was born, things barely held together. Either Anthony or one of the grandmothers looked after him. Emily occasionally found a moment for herself. But the arrival of the second child changed everything. Only Emily could manage both.
My dear, I love them both, the motherinlaw defends herself. But understand, I can barely cope with one. The two together created a mess last time! Remember that rocking horse by the TV? It survived seven kids! These two tore it apart trying to sit on it together.
The grandparents increasingly decline to help, at best dropping by for moral support. They dont want the grandchildren, claiming theyve already done their part.
Anthony treats time with the kids like a side order to his beer: occasional and mooddependent. When hes tired, he barricades himself in a spare room and stays there all evening.
Whats the problem? Im just sitting quietly, not bothering you, he wonders when Emily complains. Its not me, its you. You cant relax. Youre always wiping and cleaning. Calm down, have a rest. Youre too tense.
He speaks easily because he never lifts a finger at home. Emily knows that if she ever lets her hands rest, theyll turn to moss.
She feels emotionally burnt out. Over time she starts shouting more, snapping. The kids irritate her when, for the fifth time in two minutes, they claim they dont want tomatoes. Her husband infuriates her by coming home and slamming the door. Everything around her feels like a trigger, yet she holds on.
Then Sams birthday arrives.
For three days Emily spends herself cleaning and cooking. Sam wants to invite his nursery friends, which means also inviting the parents. Emily blitzes the flat, bakes two cakes, prepares salads, marinates meat, and schedules everything so she can finally get some sleep.
But the plan unravels.
Sam wakes first and tries to rouse his mum.
Sleep! Emily roars at him. Or sit quietly until Im up. Let Mum get her rest!
Sam whines that hes bored and hungry.
Hold it, his mother snaps.
Emily is so exhausted she cant even stand. She cant fall asleep either; Sams crying keeps her awake.
Soon Arthur stirs. As the responsible older brother he grabs Sams hand and leads him to the kitchen. Emily exhales, hoping she can finally relax, when the clatter of dishes rings out.
She leaps up as if the children had shattered not a plate but her last nerve. The boys hustle around the kitchen, sweeping up shards. A box of cereal and a bottle of milk sit on the counter. A chair leans against the cupboard. Apparently they tried to make breakfast themselves, misjudging their strength.
I told you what to do! Emily erupts. How many times do I have to say it? Can you even survive five minutes without me? If you dont start respecting what I do, youll never appreciate it!
She screams for minutes, words spilling out in a frantic, incoherent torrent. Sam buries his head in his shoulders. Arthur folds his arms, eyes downcast. Emily finally stops when the younger boy bursts into tears, rubbing his eyes with his fists.
Okay, okay, settle down Mum will clean everything, then well go out for a walk and get some toys.
In that instant Emily is genuinely frightened. Yes, they broke a plate, but her reaction makes it feel as if theyd blown the whole house apart. Its not normal.
The next day she calls her friend Lucy for advice. Lucy has three children and still manages, so she carries some authority in family matters.
Honestly, youre carrying the whole load. Let me guessInternational Womens Day is coming, and youll be hosting both the motherinlaw and your own mum again. Another marathon of cooking for two days.
Exactly. What else can I do?
Wake up! Womens Day isnt meant for us to be slaves to the whole family. My boss gave me a day off in the country. Come with me; Ive booked a cottage with spare rooms.
Emily thinks it over and agrees. It sounds sensible. She orders two books shes wanted to read for ages, packs a grocery basket, and tells the family her plans have changed.
Her own mum takes it calmly: Good, have a rest. The motherinlaw is surprised but doesnt criticize. Anthony, however
So youre ditching us? People spend the day with family, not run away from it.
Emily spends a long time explaining it isnt betrayal, just a need for a break. Anthony doesnt agree but doesnt stop her.
Fine, go wherever you like, even to space, he mutters at the end.
Ill fly off next time, she snaps back.
Later he starts teasing the kids again, and Emily cant tolerate it any longer. When Sam and Arthur finally fall asleep, she approaches her husband to talk.
Listen, cut the jokes. Because of you the kids think I dont love them. Did you see Sams eyes this morning?
Come off it. Its nothing, just little things. Theyll forget by tomorrow. And whats wrong with you? You should be at home, not wandering off.
Emily sighs slowly. He brushes her off again, as if shes invisible. Shes fed up.
You know what, love? All your evenings are quiet because Dads tired, and Sunday is your day. Ive been on the front line for seven years with no weekends. Im not running away; I just need a bit of time to get my head right so I dont snap at the children. Its your fault I have to shout.
My part? he protests.
Yes, Ive told you a thousand times you dont hear me. Lets try this: Sunday is yours, fine. But Saturdays are mine. Spend at least one day a week with the kids. Theyre yours too, after all.
He resists, but finally concedes, because the alternative would be each of them taking one child alonea load Emily cant bear.
International Womens Day passes unusually quiet. They arrive at the cottage the night before, so Emily wakes not to childrens cries but to the peace of her own room. She lingers in bed with a book, then laughs with Lucy, recalling university antics and planning how to coax the other girls into a techfree hike.
By evening, Margaret sits on the verandah, breathing fresh air, watching ants haul away the crumb of bread she left. Her mind feels empty yet bright, like a newly decluttered room with windows flung wide. For the first time in seven years, no one nags, no one calls, no one demands, no one judges.
Lucy raises her glass and clinks it with Emilys.
Heres to you, Mum, on Womens Day. Finally youre not just a mother, she jokes.
Emily smiles back. It may be just one day, but she finally remembers what it feels like to be herself not a mother, not a wife, but a person with her own wishes and a right to a breather.
