Anne was frying meatballs when the doorbell rang. She slipped out of the kitchen to answer.
Mom, its for me, her daughter Emily called, stopping her halfway. Ill get it.
Alright. I didnt know, Anne replied, puzzled.
Come on, get on with your meatballs, Emily snapped, glancing back from the doorway.
Why mine? I bought the mince myself, Anne protested.
Mom, shut the door, Emily rolled her eyes.
Could have said that earlier, Anne muttered, returning to the kitchen and pulling the door shut behind her. She turned off the gas beneath the pan, slipped off her apron and left the kitchen.
In the hallway Emily was pulling on her coat. Standing nearby was Ian, a friend of Sarahs, eyes glued to the two lovestruck girls.
Hello, Ian. Where are you off to? Join us for dinner, Anne called.
Good evening, Ian smiled, looking inquisitively at Sarah.
Were in a rush, Sarah replied, not meeting her mothers gaze.
Maybe youll stay for a bite? Everythings ready, Anne repeated.
Ian hesitated.
No! Emily shouted. Lets go. She took Ian by the arm and opened the door. Mom, could you close it?
Anne approached the doorway, left a slight crack, and listened to voices from the street.
Youre being harsh, someone said. It smells delicious, I wouldnt say no to those meatballs.
Lets grab a bite at the café. Im fed up with her meatballs, Emily muttered.
They could never get boring. I love your mothers meatballs, I could eat them every day, Ian replied.
What Sarah said, Anne didnt catch. The voices on the stairwell faded away.
Anne shut the door completely and walked into the living room where Brian was glued to the television.
Brian, lets have dinner while its still hot.
Right, he rose from the sofa, passed Anne and sat at the table.
Whats on the menu? he demanded.
Rice with meatballs, a salad, Anne announced, lifting the pan.
Ive told you a hundred times I dont eat fried meatballs, Brian grumbled.
I added water, they turned out almost steamed, Anne said, holding the lid.
Fine, but this is the last time, Brian warned.
At our age losing weight is dangerous, Anne remarked, plating the rice and meatballs in front of him.
What age is that? Im only fiftyseven. For a man this is the prime of wisdom, Brian said, spearing a meatball and taking a bite.
Are you all in on a conspiracy? Emily burst out, refusing to eat. Im done cooking. Think youll get better food in a restaurant?
Then stop cooking. You could use a trim yourself. Soon you wont fit through the door, Brian finished his steak and reached for another.
Excuse me? You think Im fat? Ive spent my whole life trying to look decentnew jeans, leather jacket, baseball cap, even shaved my head to hide the balding, Emily snapped, hurt. For whom? Certainly not for you. Im fat. Who am I supposed to compare myself to? she demanded.
Just let me eat in peace, Brian said, pushing his fork toward his mouth but stopping. Pass the ketchup.
Anne fetched a bottle of ketchup, slammed it onto the table, and silently left the kitchen. The untouched dinner sat on her plate.
She retreated to Emilys bedroom, sank onto the couch, and tears welled up.
I cook, I try, and they they never thank me. My husband looks elsewhere, calls me fat, and my daughter treats me like staff. Am I just a relic now? If I were retired, could they just ignore me? Id still work if they didnt slash my hours. They want fresh faceswhat can the old hands do?
She recalled rising before anyone else, even without a job, just to make breakfast. The whole day she spun in circles, never finding a moment to sit. Its my fault, she thought, Ive spoiled them, and now they sit on my neck like a weight.
A wave of sobs rolled down her cheeks. She pressed her palms to her eyes, stifling the hiccups.
She had always believed her family was decentimperfect but no worse than anyone else. Emily was doing well at university, Brian didnt drink or smoke, earned a solid salary, and the house was tidy with good food. What more could he want?
Anne stared at the mirror on the wardrobe door, examined herself. Yes, Ive put on a few pounds, but Im not huge. The wrinkles are softer on my round cheeks. Ive always loved to eat, Im a good cook. They just dont need it anymore. When I worked, Id style hair, curl it. Now I pin it back so it doesnt get in the way. Whats left for me? Perhaps I should lose a few pounds and dye my hair. She sat on the bed, lost in thought.
The next morning Anne didnt rise at her usual hour. She lingered in bed, pretending to sleep. Im retired; I can stay tucked under the covers a bit longer. Let them make their own breakfast, she thought.
The alarm buzzed. She stirred, turned toward the wall.
Are you ill? Brian asked, his tone devoid of sympathy.
Fine, Anne muttered, burying her face in the duvet.
Mom, are you sick? Emily entered the room.
Go on and have breakfast yourselves, Anne whispered weakly.
Emily huffed and went to the kitchen. Soon the kettle whistled, the fridge door clanged, and muffled voices floated from the kitchen. Anne stayed under the covers, playing the sick role.
Brian entered, scent of expensive cologne lingeringshe had bought the aftershave herself. He and Emily left, the house fell silent. Anne lifted the duvet, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.
An hour later she awoke, stretched, and shuffled to the kitchen. Dirty mugs sat in the sink, crumbs littered the table. She considered cleaning but decided, Im not a servant. She headed for a shower, then called an old school friend.
Ellie! Its been ageshow are you? Still enjoying retirement? the voice chirped.
Anne confessed she missed being out, hadnt visited her parents graves in years, and wondered if she could stay over.
Of course, come over. Ill be delighted. When? Ellie asked.
Right now Im heading to the station, Anne replied.
Oh dear, Im putting the pies in the oven then, Ellie said.
Anne packed a bag for a few days, swept the crumbs aside, left a note on the kitchen table that shed gone to her friends, unsure when shed return.
On the way to the station she hesitated. Maybe theyll manage without me. They hardly appreciate my work, she thought. But is that too bold? She decided, If I cant get a ticket, Ill go home. Tickets were available; a line snaked along the bus doors. She sighed and took her place at the back.
Lucy, her old friend, greeted her with a hug. They sipped tea and warm pies, talking nonstop.
Tell me everything, Lucy urged.
Anne spilled the whole saga. Now theyll have to cope; Ill turn off my phone for a while, Lucy suggested.
Is that too drastic? Anne asked.
Just right, Lucy smiled. Tomorrow well hit the salon, give you a makeover. Valentina works thereremember her, the one who barely passed? Now shes booked solid. Well turn you into a knockout, make your husband eat his words.
That night Anne tossed and turned, wondering, Are they angry or happy?
At the salon Valentina greeted them warmly, settled Anne into a chair. While her hair was coloured, brows shaped, and hair cut, Anne closed her eyes, nearly drifting off. Valentina insisted on full makeup; Anne wanted to quit, but Lucy persuaded her to see it through.
When she finally looked in the mirror, a younger, striking woman stared back. Valentina was already arranging a nail technician.
No, thats enough for today. I cant take any more, Anne pleaded.
Okay, well book you for eight in the morning. Dont be late, or the crowd will move on, Valentina warned.
Lucy marveled, Look at you now! Who would have guessed? They left, heading to the shopping centre.
Another time? Anne asked.
No, were going. You cant walk around in old clothes with that haircut, Lucy teased, pulling her toward the store.
Anne emerged in loosefit trousers, a light cardigan, and a sleek coat, looking satisfied despite the fatigue.
She carried bags with a new dress, a jacket, and a box of shoes, feeling youthful, confident, finally trimmed. She thanked Lucy for nudging her toward change.
Outside Lucys house, a tall man with stark white hair and dark moustache approached.
Hello, ladies, he said, admiring Anne. You look smashing.
Anne stared at Lucy, bewildered.
You dont recognise me? Its Paul Whitaker, Lucy whispered.
Paul? Anne repeated.
Yes, thats him, the man confirmed, clearly pleased. Paul had been a skinny, unremarkable classmate back at school.
Lucy suggested, Lets go to my place, celebrate your transformation. Weve got a bottle of wine.
The three sat at the kitchen table, sipping wine, reminiscing about school days. Annes cheeks flushed, whether from the wine or the attention.
Hes still in love with you, Lucy said as Paul left the room.
Stop it, its been years, Anne retorted.
You look like someone I could fall for again, Lucy teased.
Does he still live nearby? Anne asked, changing the subject.
No, hes a retired colonel, left the army two years ago after a serious injury. He limped a lot, his wife left, but he got back on his feet, Lucy explained. Dont rush into anything.
Im married, Anne protested.
That night Anne decided to head home, but Lucy wouldnt let her leave.
Just arrived and already going? Show some backbone. Nothing will happen to you. Stay a week, enjoy yourself. By the way, Paul booked theatre tickets. When was the last time you went?
Back at the local youth theatre for the Christmas show with Lucy, Anne replied.
Lucy laughed, The youth theatre, eh? Lets flaunt that new dress.
Three days later Annes phone finally rang.
Mum, where are you? Dads in hospital! Come quickly, Sarah shouted.
Annes heart hammered. She gathered her things and, with Pauls help, caught a bus to the station.
Annie, if you need anything, Im here, Paul said. Dont hesitate.
Thanks, Paul.
On the bus she called Sarah. The daughter confessed shed been shocked by her mothers sudden departure, having thought shed return the next day.
What about dad? Anne asked.
Its hard to hear, but Ill tell you. Hes been cheating. I saw him leaving the neighbours flat several times, begging me not to tell you. When you vanished, he stopped coming over at night. Yesterday his other wifes husband showed up, shouting. Hes a shiftworker, they heard the fight. He broke two ribs, but thats nothing. He also had a brain bleed, but the ambulance got him in time, Sarah explained, pausing. Hes alive.
Anne listened, stunned, feeling she must stay. She arrived home by evening; it was too late for the hospital.
Mum, youve changed so much. I barely recognised you, Sarah said, her tone now respectful. She stayed all evening, sharing news.
I was scared you wouldnt come back, that youd find someone else, Anne admitted.
I didnt find anyone. I just wanted to teach you a lesson. You and dad stopped seeing me as a person, Sarah replied.
Sorry, Mum, but youre to blame. You retired, stopped looking after yourself, turned into an old woman. Dad will be jealous. Will you forgive him? Sarah babbled.
Anne scanned the room, grateful for the familiar surroundings.
The next morning she rose early, made chicken broth, and drove to the hospital. Brian, now older with a full beard of grey, wept when he saw Anne, begging forgiveness. She fed him soup from a spoon.
Two weeks later Brian was discharged. As they left the taxi, a couple passed by; Brian flinched, turned away. The woman averted her gaze. Anne realised she was facing her rivala slim, redhaired young woman. Brian slumped, shoulders hunched, disappearing into the hallway.
Wont you stay longer? he asked at home.
What, am I still fat? I havent lost weight, Anne replied, teasing.
I asked for forgiveness. I was a fool. Fry those meatballs, will you? Ive missed your cooking, he pleaded.
Anne fried the meatballs, prepared a hearty dinner.
It smells amazing! Sarah, now back from university, sniffed the air.
They sat together at the table as they once did, when Sarah was still at school, Brian never criticised Anne, ate everything and praised her. Anne felt ready to stand by the stove for days just to please her husband.
She looked at her family, grateful they were all alive and mostly well, that she still mattered.
Old age never comes with smooth roads. It drags you places, especially when the body no longer feels as it did in youth, though the spirit remains young. Acceptance is hard, but the desire to cling to former strength persists.
Each learned their lesson. The most important thing is they stay together. After all, you cant change a horse in midcrossing. You either hold on or youre left at the final station of life.
A good wife, a warm homewhat else does a person need to face old age?
