Kate, has Tom already told you? the motherinlaw pressed, her voice low. Listen, therell be up to twenty guests, so well have to start cooking this evening. Ill get there early, around six oclock.
What? In the evening? Kate asked, her brow furrowing. No, I never agreed to that.
Hold on, I havent finished. Ive already sent Tom a shopping list; he promised to buy everything.
Tom had always been his older sister Susans righthand man. By the time she turned thirty shed been married twice and divorced twice, each time blaming the wrong bloke. Their mother, Margaret, had been telling her son since he was a lad:
A sister needs help.
And Tom did help: with cash when Susan was temporarily out of work, with repairs in her rented flat, with endless trips moving her belongings after each split.
Then he got married.
At first Kate put up with it. But when, for the fifth time that year, Susan asked to borrow their car for a few days because it had broken down again, Kate said softly but firmly:
Tom, isnt this enough? We need the car this weekend too. I thought wed have plans
Whats there to do? Walk?
No. You cant walk to my parents cottage. Theyve harvested two buckets of cucumbers for us. I thought you heard me when I mentioned it.
Right Ive heard, but you understand Susans situation is urgent.
Again? What exactly?
Im not sure, Tom muttered, but she needs more.
No, Tom. This time it ends! Either you refuse your sister, or you buy me a car. Im fed up taking the bus when you could drive me wherever I need.
For the first time Tom hesitated, about to call Susan to say no, when Margaret swooped in:
Are you going to toss your sister over your wife? Shes all you have! Who else will look after her?
So Tom fell back into the old pattern, despite the fights with Kate. One evening they didnt speak for days; Tom finally snapped:
Why are you silent? Did you take offence?
Really? You needed three days to work that out? Kate snapped back.
I just cant see what you want me to do.
Kate laughed, baffled:
Seriously? You dont get it? Your little sister dragged you away for the whole weekend because she needed to get to a friends cottage. I thought youd just give her a lift, and you ended up staying there two days. Does any of that bother you?
What could bother me? I had a few drinks, saw her exboyfriend, chatted normally. I needed to mark the occasion. Why should I have driven like a fool? It wouldve been awkward.
You could at least have called.
You could have, too, Tom shot back.
I did call! Your phone was switched off. Imagine what I thought! I was a nervous wreck, not knowing where my husband was. And he just decides to take a break from me Kates voice cracked.
Stop making stories up, Tom waved a hand, gesturing at his ringing phone.
He stepped onto the balcony, finally answering. He knew his wife wouldnt appreciate another chat with his sister.
Hi, brother! Susans bright voice burst through. My anniversary is in two weeks! Thirty years! You get what I mean?
Tom shifted his gaze to Kate, who was ladling soup.
So what do you want? he asked.
How you always get me! Susan giggled. I want to celebrate at your place! You have a big living room. Mines a cramped rental and the landlady will be on my case. A restaurant is way too pricey.
Could we do it at a café? Ill foot the bill.
Are you off your rocker? Susan snapped. Its an anniversary! You expect me to foot the rent when you have your own flat? And youll still have to pay extra. Im not a millionaires daughter.
Let me talk to Kate first. Its her flat too. Maybe she has her own plans.
Too late! Susan cut him off. Ive told everyone the partys at yours. Clear the flat for the whole day, okay? Mum will sort the food.
Tom sighed, covering his face with a hand as he tried to think of an escape. The phone buzzed again, this time with a message from his mother.
Susan said to draft a menu. Heres the list of dishes. We still need to buy the ingredients. Tell Kate to help, and she can pitch in with the cooking.
Meanwhile, Kate, oblivious to Susans looming celebration, settled into an armchair with her phone, ready to watch her favourite series. When Tom entered the room, eyes down, she instantly pieced it together.
So whats the plan this time? she asked calmly, pausing the show.
Kate, listen Susans anniversary thirty years. You know, the date. She wants to mark it.
Kate lifted her head.
Let her celebrate. Are we going to stop her?
Tom scratched his scalp.
Its not that. She wants to host it here.
What?! Kate sprang up. Wait, in our flat?
Yes, just for one night. She says a restaurant is too dear, and her place is too cramped
And you agreed?
I said Id talk to you first! But Susans already invited everyone. Mums already planning the menu
Kate closed her eyes, breathed hard.
Tom, are you really an adult, or just Susans messenger?
What are you starting?
Im starting, Kate said, holding up his phone with a hint of sarcasm. And nobody even called me? This is my flat, not a holding pen for your relatives. Susan wants a party in my house, Im supposed to help her, help your mum, and nobody even asked me!
At that moment Kates phone rang.
Ah, the cherry on the cake, she muttered. Your mum, she waved the device in Toms face.
Kate, has Tom told you? the motherinlaws voice crackled again. Look, therell be up to twenty people. Well start cooking tonight. Ill be there around six tomorrow.
What? In the evening? Kate replied, skeptical. 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 tossed back. Where will the money come from?
Tom promised to help, Margaret answered shortly.
Right. So you want to turn my flat into a restaurant and expect us to foot the bill? Kates patience snapped.
Susan isnt a stranger! Its not hard to help for a day chop veg, make salads, toast Youre the lady of the house!
Margaret, Kate interrupted, I just found out about this celebration. I never gave permission for Susans birthday in my flat.
What, my flat? You and Tom are married. Everything is joint! the motherinlaw snapped.
Dont say that. If the flat were Toms, youd talk like this. Id just be a dependent.
Enough nonsense. The conversation is over. By Friday we need all the supplies, Margaret said, ending the call.
What was that? Kate asked Tom, hearing the brief beeps.
Stop playing the victim! Tom finally blurted. Youve been told youre wrong. Admit your mistake and stop fighting.
Kate stared, stunned. She rose, opened the wardrobe and silently lifted a large sports bag. She slipped into the bedroom, opened the chest of drawers and began folding Toms shirts and jeans with mechanical precision.
Meanwhile Tom, feeling victorious, flung open the fridge, grabbed a pint of lager, slammed the door and plonked down in front of the TV as if nothing had changed. He assumed Kate would cool off and everything would revert to the usual rhythm. He even turned on the football, sure shed soon pop her head in and call him to dinner.
He was wrong.
Half an hour later Kate stood in the hallway, a shopping bag in one hand, the overstuffed sports bag in the other. Tom stepped out of the lounge toward the fridge, only to see her.
Whats this? he muttered, baffled. What kind of drama is this?
Kates stare was icecold.
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 the good son and brother, go back to your mum. Prepare for the party together. Im sure shell gladly give you a corner of her lounge.
Are you serious? he took a step forward. I wont go back.
Absolutely serious, Kate nodded. I dont want you coming back. Ive tolerated enough that even I now question myself. Thats enough. If you cant learn to respect me in three years, nothing will get better.
Kate you cant just tear everything apart! Not now!
You cant destroy whats already fallen apart.
Tom snarled, still not grasping that Kate had made up her mind.
And thats that, Kate added, gesturing to his clothes piled on the floor. Take them if you like. No thanks needed. Get out now.
He tried to speak, but Kate opened the front door. Tom stood there, rage simmering, cheeks flushed, lips clenched. He had hoped Kate would relent, but her calm only fueled his fury.
Well, thats it! he shouted. Think youll find anyone better? Youll be lucky to find someone like me!
Kate snorted and stepped back.
Someone like you? Good luck thank heavens.
Youll regret this! Tom roared, snatching the bag. Youll be on your knees when you realise nobody wants to talk to you! Without me youre nothing!
If nothing means a person with a flat of her own, a job, no longer catering to a husbands relatives and enduring his rudeness, then Im happy to be nothing.
Tom stormed out, and Kate stayed alone. She took a deep breath, walked to the window, pulled back the curtains, and watched him shove the bag into the boot of a taxi.
Months passed.
The divorce was bitter. Tom tried to paint Kate as greedy and materialistic. The biggest fight was over the car theyd bought together. He claimed hed paid for it outright; Kate argued shed been the one who drove it.
Your Honour, I paid all the money, the car is in my name! he declared. My wife didnt give me a penny!
Kate calmly opened a folder, spread bank statements, transfer receipts, a signed deposit agreement.
Im not claiming his half, but I wont give up mine, she said evenly.
The judge ruled in her favour.
Tom was furious. Hed already considered the car his. Now hed have to sell it and split the proceeds. He left the courtroom with a twisted grin.
At home his motherinlaw berated him.
What are you, a fool? she shouted. You handed over everything! The car! The flat! And you didnt even get a decent solicitor!
On top of that Tom had taken out a loan to fund Susans anniversary dinner at a restaurant, because shed been promised the flat. Now he lived in a cramped corner of Margarets spare bedroom.
Kate, for the first time in ages, slept peacefully. She decided she was still young enough to walk away from men like Tom. Good men were out there; the trick was simply knowing who was who.
