Mum Was Tired
Sarahs voice cut through the supermarket, sharp as a knife. At the checkout, her tirade sent the cashiers hands trembling.
How much longer are you going to fumble about?! If you cant do your job properly, you might as well stay home!
Im very sorry, the older woman replied, swiping groceries even faster, her hands shaking.
Sarah, love her husband, Mark, gently touched her arm. Thats enough. Lets go.
She spun on him. And yoube quiet, will you! No one asked you, did they?
Mark looked down, apologetic, and said nothing. He had grown used to silence.
***
Back home, a warm savoury scent greeted them. Marks mother, Margaret, stood at the stove stirring soup.
Oh, youre back! Ive just made a bit of chicken soup with noodles. Sit down, Ill serve some up.
I told youhow many times?dont meddle in my kitchen, Sarah hissed. Are you living here now, or are you still a guest?
Margaret turned pale, setting the ladle down. I only meant to help
I dont need your help! I can manage perfectly well on my own!
Seven-year-old Jamie burst from the living room. Mum, hey! Oliver from next door said Im a wimp! Im not a wimp, am I?
Leave me alone! Sarah snapped. Cant you see Im busy?!
Jamie froze, glancing at his gran, who averted her eyes.
Sarah stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door.
***
This was how they lived.
Each day blurred into the next. Sarah woke up angry, went to bed angry, and spent the in-between snapping at anyone in reachher husband, her mother-in-law, her son, cashiers, colleagues, strangers alike.
Once in a whilevery rarelya fleeting thought came: Dear God, what am I doing? But the thought always vanished into a black emptiness, with no way out.
Mark endured. He was used to it. Ten years of marriage had taught him to stay quiet, to keep out of the way.
He worked two jobs, brought his wages home, did everything she asked. At night, when Sarah finally drifted off, hed slip into the kitchen, sit with a mug of tea, staring at nothing for what felt like forever. Thinking.
Margaret had come three months before to help with Jamie while his parents worked.
She agreed, and now each day she braced herself for Sarahs simmering fury.
Jamie he simply existed. He ran, played, asked questions. Every time he tried to approach his mother, it was like running into a wall.
At first, he cried. In time, he stopped. Hed go to Margaret instead, sitting quietly beside her. It was safer that way.
***
That Friday was like so many before.
Sarah came home in a torrid mood: her boss had shouted, her workmate had set her up, and someone had trodden on her foot on the Tube.
Just before she arrived, Jamie had spilled juice all over the new beige sofathe one theyd bought on credit.
He stood beside the empty glass, eyes wide in horror as a red stain spread across the fabric.
What have you done?! Sarah roared as she walked in. Do you have any idea what this sofa cost?!
It was an accident, Mum. Please dont shout. You scare me
Scared, are you? she snapped, her fury growing. All you ever do is break things and ruin everything! My life is a mess because of you!
Mum, Im sorry
Go to your room! Now! I dont want to see you!
Jamie left. Sarah kept shouting long after, till her throat was raw and the flat rung with silence.
***
That night, she couldnt sleep. She crept to the kitchen, sitting by the window. Rain drizzled softly outside.
She watched water race down the glass, lost in how tired she feltwishing it could all just stop. Wishing for peace, for quiet. For everyone to leave her alone.
She didnt notice drifting off at the table.
A chill woke her hours later, sometime around four in the morning.
The flat was silent. Mark asleep, Margaret asleep, Jamie asleep.
Sarah stood, headed to the bathroom. On the way back, she passed Jamies room. The door was ajar. She peered in, just to check he was covered.
Jamie lay curled up, hugging his pillow. On the desk beside his bed was a notebookjust a school exercise book, but its cover was plastered with drawings of tanks.
Sarah was about to leave when she spotted, scrawled in big letters:
Mum.
She picked up the notebook, sat on the edge of the bed, and read.
It was a diary.
The first entry was from September.
Mum yelled at me again today. Dad said she was just tired. I wanted to hug her, but she pushed me away. Thats because Im bad, isnt it.
Sarah swallowed hard and turned the page.
October. It was Grans birthday today. I made her a card, with lots of flowers. I wanted to give it to her in the morning. But Mum shouted at Dad again, so I didnt. I hid it under my pillow. Maybe Ill give it to her when Mums not home.
She kept reading.
November. I broke the toy car Dad gave me. On purpose. I thought if I broke something of mine, Mum wouldnt shout. But she still shouted. She said I dont know how to value anything. And that Im stupid.
Sarahs hands shook.
December. Christmas soon. I wrote to Father Christmas. I asked if he could make Mum stop shouting. But you cant get that as a present, can you.
January. At school, we had to write what we want to be when we grow up. I wrote that I want to be invisible. So Mum wouldnt see me, so she wouldnt shout at me. My teacher was surprised and phoned Dad. Dad came in and talked to me. He said Mums really lovely, just life is hard. I remember how she used to hug me. She used to laugh. Now she never laughs.
Sarah sat, frozen. Tears fell onto the pages, blurring the ink.
February. Today I spilled juice on the sofa. Mum shouted for ages.
When she shouts, it feels like I die in pieces. First my ears, then my heart, then my soul. I lay down and closed my eyes. I wonder: if I died in my sleep, would she cry? Or just say, Oh, one less problem?
The notebook slipped from Sarahs hands. She shook but made no sound, terrified Jamie would wake to find her like this. Terrified of everything.
She sat there a long while. Twenty minutes, maybe an hour. At last, she picked the diary up, set it back where shed found it, and left.
Back in her room, she lay beside Mark, staring at the ceiling until dawn bled through the window.
***
Jamie woke first.
He stretched, sat up, saw his door was open, and remembered the night before. He sighed.
He listened outside his room. Silence. OddMum usually clattered about already, complaining that everyone else was still half-asleep.
He peeped into the kitchen.
Sarah was sitting at the table. Not shouting, not clattering. Just sitting, gazing out the window. Her mug of tea had gone cold.
Mum? Jamie called softly.
She turned. Her face was differentnot angry, not tired, just… changed. Jamie couldnt figure out how.
Good morning, Sarah said quietly. Come have your breakfast.
He sat across from her. She put a bowl of porridge in front of him and took a seat.
Jamie ate, sneaking cautious glances at his mum. He waited for the familiar eruption. But nothing came.
Mum, he finally said, whats wrong?
Nothing.
Why arent you saying anything?
Im thinking.
About what?
Sarahs eyes lingered on him. She reached out, brushing his hair gentlya gesture with no reason, just tenderness.
Im thinking about you, she said. About us.
Jamie stopped mid-bite.
Mum, havent you caught something?
No, love. Quite the oppositeIm getting better.
Jamie didnt understand, but he nodded. All that mattered was her not shouting.
Go on then, Sarah said. Youll be late for school.
Jamie finished his tea, went to pack his things, stopping at the door.
Mum, he said, shyly, will you tonight will you be shouting again?
Sarah knelt down to his level.
Listen to me, she said firmly. I dont know if Ill manage or not. But Ill try not to. Ill try very hard. I dont want you to ever be afraid again. You understand?
Jamie nodded.
And if I forget? he whispered.
If I forget, just say, Are you doing it again? And Ill remember.
Remember what?
Everything. She kissed his forehead. Now off you go.
He left.
Sarah stayed at the door, listening as the lift doors shut. The silence felt enormous.
Mark stumbled into the hall, hair rumpled, eyes sleepy.
Why are you up so early? he asked.
Couldnt sleep.
He studied her.
Is everything alright?
Everythings fine. Sarah managed a smile. Go get your breakfast.
He headed to the kitchen. She followed.
They sat down. Mark poured tea.
Mark, Sarah said suddenly, why do you love me?
He choked on his tea.
Sorry?
Why do you love me? Im a Im a monster.
Mark set down the mug, face full of empathy.
Youre not a monster, he said. Youve just forgotten who you are.
What am I then?
Many things, Mark half-smiled. I remember. You can be warm, funny, loving. You can hug so tight it feels like my ribs will splinter. I remember all of it, Sarah. Thats what youve forgotten
Sarah was silent.
You know, Im waiting for you to come back, Mark added. However long it takes, Ill wait.
Sarah reached for his hand, gripping it.
***
That day was the first she didnt shout at anyone.
Jamie came home. He dumped his backpack, dashed over, and hugged Sarah for no reason.
Mum, I got a gold star today!
Well done, Sarah beamed. Im proud of you!
He blinked, surprised.
Really?
Really.
A big, beaming smile split Jamies face, wider than shed seen in a long time.
Mum, do you know, today at school I was hopingmaybe youd hug me tonight? And you really did.
Silly boy, Sarah hugged him tight. Ill hug you every day, from now on!
***
That evening, when Jamie was asleep, the notebook lay on his desk.
Sarah picked it up, turned to the last page, and added beneath his writing:
My darling, I love you so much. Im sorry. Ill try my very best.
Mum.
