Kate, has Tom already told you? her motherinlaw asks. Listen, well have up to twenty guests, so we start the preparations this evening. Ill arrive early, around six oclock.
What? In the evening? Kate replies skeptically. No, I never agreed to that.
Hold on, I havent finished. Ive already sent Tom a shopping list; he promised to buy everything.
Tom has always looked after his older sister Sophie. By thirty she has already married twice and divorced twice, each time blaming the wrong man. Their mother, Margaret, has been telling her son since he was a boy:
You must help your sister.
And Tom does. He lends her money when Sophie is temporarily out of work, fixes things in her rented flat, and hauls her belongings after each split.
Then he gets married.
Kate, his wife, puts up with it at first. But when Sophie asks for just a few days of their car for the fifth time this year because her own has broken down again, Kate says firmly but gently:
Tom, isnt that enough? We need the car this weekend too. I thought we had plans
Whats there to do? Walk?
No, we cant walk to my parents cottage. Theyve picked two jars of pickles for us. I thought you heard me when I mentioned it.
I heard something, but you know Sophies situation is urgent.
Again? What exactly?
Im not sure, Tom stammers, but she needs it more.
No, Tom. This time it ends! Either you say no to your sister, or you buy me a car. Im fed up taking the bus when you could drive me wherever I need to go.
Tom suddenly thinks about refusing his sister, but Margaret pulls him back:
Youd abandon your sister for your wife? Shes all you have! Who else will help her?
So Tom helps again, despite the quarrels with Kate. After a few days of silence, Tom finally cracks:
Why are you silent?! Offended?
Really? It took you three days to notice? Kate snaps.
I just cant see what you want me to do.
Kate laughs at his confusion:
Seriously? You dont get it? Your little sister took you away for the whole weekend because she needed to get to a friends cottage. I thought youd just give her a lift, but you ended up staying there for two days. Does that bother you at all?
Whats there to worry about? I had a few drinks. Her ex was there, we chatted normally, and I thought we should mark the occasion. Why should I have driven there like a fool? It wouldve been ridiculous.
You could at least have called.
You couldve called too, Tom retorts.
I tried! Your phone was off. Imagine what I was supposed to think? Im on edge, I dont know where my husband is, and he just decides to take a break from me, Kate fumes.
Dont make it up, Tom waves his hand as if rejecting the call.
Tom steps onto the balcony and finally answers. He knows his wife wont appreciate another chat with his sister.
Hi, bro! Sophie chirps on the line. My anniversary is in two weeks! Thirty years! You get it, right?
Tom glances at Kate, who is stirring soup.
So what do you want? he asks.
You always understand me! Sophie giggles. I want to celebrate at your place! Youve got a big living room. My rented flat is cramped and the landlord will nag. A restaurant is pricey.
How about the pub then? Ill add whatever you need.
Are you out of your mind?! Sophie exclaims. Its an anniversary! You expect me to pay for a venue when you have your own flat? And youll still have to foot the bill. Im not a millionaires daughter.
Let me talk to Kate first. Its her flat too. Maybe she has other plans.
Too late! Sophie interrupts. Ive already told everyone the partys at yours. Clear the flat for the whole day, okay? Mum says shell handle the cooking.
Tom sighs, covers his face with his hand, and tries to think of an escape. The phone buzzes againthis time a message from his mother.
Sophie wants a menu. Heres the list of dishes. We need to buy the ingredients. Tell Kate to help out with the cooking.
Meanwhile, Kate, unaware of Sophies anniversary, settles into her armchair with the remote, ready to watch her favourite series. When Tom walks in, eyes down, she instantly catches on.
So what now? she asks calmly, pausing the show.
Kate, listen Sophie anniversary, thirty years. You know its a date. She wants to celebrate.
Kate lifts her head.
Fine, let her celebrate. Are we banning her?
Tom scratches his scalp.
Its not that. She wants to celebrate at our place.
What?! Kate jumps up. Wait, at our flat?
Yes, just one evening. She says the restaurant is too expensive and her place is too cramped
And you agreed?
I said Id talk to you first! But Sophies already invited everyone, and Mums making the menu
Kate closes her eyes, takes a deep breath.
Tom, are you a grown man or just a messenger for Sophies wishes?
What are you starting?
Im starting, Kate says with irony, holding up his phone. And nobody even called me? This is my flat, not a transit hub for your relatives. Sophie wants to party here, I have to help her, I have to assist your mother, and nobody even asked me!
At that moment Kates phone rings.
Ah, the cherry on the cake, she mutters. Your mum, she waves the phone in front of Tom.
Kate, has Tom told you? the motherinlaw blurts out again. Look, well have up to twenty people, so we start cooking this evening. Ill be there around six tomorrow.
What? In the evening? Kate replies, dubious. No, I never signed up for that.
Hold on, Im not done. Tom already has the shopping list, he promised to buy everything.
Suppose Kate replies. Where do we get the money for all this?
Tom promised to help, Margaret answers shortly.
Right. So you want to turn my flat into a restaurant and make us pay for the banquet? Kate cant hold back.
Sophie isnt a stranger! Cant you spare a day, slice some veg, make salads, sandwiches youre the lady of the house!
Margaret, Kate interjects, I just learned about the party. I never gave permission for Sophies birthday to be in my flat.
You keep saying my flat. You and Tom are married. Everything is joint! the motherinlaw snaps.
Dont say that. If it were Toms flat, youd say the same. Then Id be just a dependent.
Stop talking nonsense. Thats it, conversations over. By Friday we need to buy everything, Margaret says and hangs up.
What was that? Kate asks Tom, hearing the brief beeps.
Stop playing the victim! Tom finally shouts. Youve been told youre wrong. Admit your mistake and stop digging in.
Kate is stunned. She stands, opens the wardrobe, and silently pulls out a large sports bag. She then goes to the bedroom, opens the chest of drawers and starts folding Toms Tshirts and jeans in a monotone rhythm.
Meanwhile Tom feels triumphant. He throws open the fridge, grabs a beer, slams the door and plops down in front of the TV as if nothing happened.
He thinks Kate will just cool off and everything will return to normal. Shell complain a bit, then calm down. He even turns on the football, expecting Kate to peek in and call him to dinner. Hes wrong.
Half an hour later Kate stands in the hallway with a bag in her hand, a sports bag packed to the brim with Toms stuff beside her. Tom leaves the living room to get another drink, but sees his wife.
Whats this now? he mutters. What kind of drama is this?
Kate looks at him coldly:
This isnt drama, Tom. Its the end. Im done being a shadow in my own life, a servant in my own flat, a backdrop for your mothers and sisters whims. If you want to be a good son and brothergo back to your mother. Help her prepare for the party. Im sure shell gladly give you a corner of her living room.
Are you serious? he steps toward her. Im not going back.
Absolutely serious, Kate nods. I dont want you returning. Ive tolerated enough that now I even question myself. But Ive had enough. If you havent learned to respect me in three years, things wont get better.
Kate you cant just tear everything apart! Not now!
You cant destroy whats already broken.
Tom gapes, still not grasping that Kates decision is final.
And thats that, Kate adds, all your shirts and jeans are right here. Youre welcome not to thank me. Get out now.
He tries to speak, but Kate opens the front door. Tom stands, his face flushed with anger, cheeks burning, lips tight. He still hopes Kate will cave, but her calm only fuels his fury.
Well, good luck! he shouts. Think youll find someone better? Youll have to search the whole world for someone like me!
Kate sighs and steps back:
Someone like you? Good thing there are plenty thank God.
Youll regret this! Tom yells, grabbing the bag. Youll be on your knees when you realise no one wants to talk to you! Without me youre nobody!
If nobody means a person who lives in their own flat, works, doesnt cater to aging relatives, and wont put up with abuse, then Im happy being nobody.
Tom leaves, and Kate stays alone. She takes a deep breath, walks to the window, pulls the curtain aside and watches as her former husband stuffs the bag into a taxis boot.
A few months pass.
The divorce is messy. Tom tries to paint Kate as greedy and materialistic. The biggest fight centers on the car they bought together. He insists he paid for it alone; Kate insists she only drove it.
Your Honour, I paid the full amount, the registration is in my name! he declares. My wife contributed nothing!
Kate coolly opens a folder of documents, spreads bank statements, transfer receipts, and a signed deposit agreement she kept.
Im not claiming his share, but I wont give up mine, she says calmly.
The judge sides with fairness.
Tom hates the verdict. He now considers the car his, but must sell it and split the proceeds. He walks out of the courtroom, his face twisted with rage.
At home, his mother doesnt offer support, only criticism.
You idiot! she screams. You gave her everything! The car! The flat! Why didnt you even hire a decent solicitor!
On top of that, Tom took out a loan to fund Sophies anniversary dinner at a restaurant, helping her with the flat. Now he has a cramped corner in Margarets spare room.
Kate finally sleeps peacefully for the first time in ages. She decides shes still young enough to walk away from men like Tom. There are plenty of decent guys out thereshe just needs to recognise whos who in time.