“No, dear, I am not a carer!” Anastasia hissed through clenched teeth. “With all due respect to Margaret, she is not my motherand she has three children of her own!”
“Anastasia, come on,” Gerald said, bewildered. “We wont get Mum through this if we start quibbling over care duties. The doctor said recovery depends on us now.”
“Depends on *you*,” Anastasia shot back, “not me!”
She listened uneasily to Geralds muffled voice as he spoke to his sister on the phone. Standing in the kitchen, chopping salad, she watched him pace the living room. Something in his tone unsettled heror was she overthinking?
No. Her instincts were sharp. A moment later, he appeared in the doorway, pale, his hands trembling.
“Whats wrong, love?” she gasped, rushing to him.
“Its Mum,” Gerald said hoarsely. “She had an episodethey took her to hospital. Might need surgery. Elaine told me, but shes hysterical, barely making sense.”
Anastasia nodded, remembering her own panic last year when her mother had heart trouble. Bed rest was ordered, and she and her sister had taken shifts caring for her.
She offered to drive Gerald to the hospitalhe was in no state tobut he refused. His sister would pick him up tomorrow, he said.
For a week, Margaret, Anastasias mother-in-law, remained under medical supervision. Gerald and Elaine visited daily, as did his elder brother, Thomas, and his wife, Sophie.
Anastasia cooked for the sick womanhospital food wouldnt do. Margaret craved clear homemade broth, steamed chicken cutlets, something fresh. After work, Anastasia stopped at the market, selecting the ripest tomatoes for her salad.
She accompanied Gerald to the hospital but stayed outside the wardno need for crowds.
“Mothers being discharged soon,” Gerald announced one evening. “We can breathe now.”
“Yes, the worst is over,” Anastasia sighed. “But Margaret needs long-term care. Someone must tend to her daily.”
“No issue there,” Gerald shrugged. “Ive told Elaine youll cook meals in advance, drop by mornings before work, and spend evenings with her. Bathing, feeding, medsyoull manage.”
His casual tone made her pause. Only minutes later did she grasp ithed just *assigned* her his mothers care.
“Gerald,” she said slowly, “I *work*. Care isnt a weekly errandits twice daily, minimum.”
“Of course I understand!” he replied, unfazed, almost pleased with his solution.
Anastasia stood abruptly, pacing the room. Conflict repelled her, but she refused to be exploited.
“Last year, when my mother was ill,” she reminded him, “we took shiftscooking, bathing, massages. It was exhausting.”
“I know, darling,” Gerald said warmly. “Thats why Im sure youll manage. I told Elaine and Thomasyoure a godsend, practically a professional carer.”
The “compliment” enraged her. So *this* was how her husband saw her? And his siblings had cheered the idea?
“No, Gerald, I am *not* a carer!” she spat. “Margaret is your motheryours, Elaines, and Thomass! And Thomas has a wife!”
“Anastasia, really,” Gerald protested. “We wont help Mum if we squabble over duties.”
“Its *your* duty, not mine!”
Gerald shook his head. “I never expected such coldness from you. Elaines son is tenhomework, meals, her job. Thomas and Sophie have kids too.”
“I *also* work,” Anastasia countered. “And need I remind youwe have *our* son, Jeremy?”
“Dont twist this,” Gerald muttered, irked by her defiance.
To guilt her, he stressed his mothers dietary restrictionsno instant noodles, no shared meals. Who but Anastasia could make her fresh chicken soup?
“Elaine and Sophie manage soup and porridge fine,” Anastasia said. “Ill print recipes for you and Thomas. Youll cope.”
Fury burned in her chest. When *her* mother fell ill, she and her sister had stepped upno arguments, no bargaining. Why couldnt his family do the same?
“Listen, love,” Gerald said, weary of debate, “weve already agreed. Elaine wont tolerate this disruption!”
“Disruption?” Anastasia said coldly. “You never *asked* me.”
“Elaine has a holiday bookedshe wont cancel!”
Anastasia smiled bitterly. Her own two-week leave was meant for Jeremya trip to the Lake District, weekends at her mothers cottage.
“The Lakes, Mums cottage,” Gerald sneered. “This is about *life and death*, and youre fussing over *holidays*?”
His dismissal choked her. He shielded his siblings comfort but sacrificed hers.
“Sort it with Elaine and Thomas,” he snapped, turning to his phone.
She wanted to refuse outrightbut she couldnt. She cared for Margaret too.
Instead, she devised a schedulecolour-coded, fairfactoring in everyones commitments. Elaines seaside trip? Not her problem.
Gerald balked at seeing his name listed. “Sophies here? Shes not even Mums daughter!”
Anastasia stared. “And I *am*?”
“Elaine wont comply!” he blustered.
“Then she cancels her trip.”
Dread pooled in Geralds gut. Under this schedule, *hed* have to visit daily. No more Mums pies, no cosy chair, no being mothered.
The family group chat erupted in outrage.
“I wont dance to *your* tune!” Elaine fumed.
“Dance to your own,” Anastasia replied. “But this is the only way.”
Gerald even threatened divorceuntil discharge day, when *someone* had to cook broth.
The relatives scorned her plan, vilified her. Elaine swore never to speak to her again.
Anastasias hands itched to helpbut she held firm. Offer a finger, and Geralds lot would bite it clean off.
Sowas she right? Whos the villain here? Weigh in below.
