Emily arrived home early, her arms full of treats from her family. Shed planned a surprise for her husband, but Mark, instead of welcoming her with open arms, sent her straight out to the shops. The consequences were not at all what either of them had expected.
The heavy bag pulled at my shoulder so much that I groaned before I could stop myself. My back achedit’s been my constant companion these past two months. I set the bags down carefully on the chipped pavement near the bus stop. I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the protest of the little one inside mesix months along is no joke, especially when you decide to surprise your husband and come home three days earlier than planned. Id missed him so much that, during the last few miles on the bus, I counted lamp posts to pass the time.
I wondered what Mark was up to. He likely had no idea I was already this closejust a ten-minute walk from our front door. The road home seemed endless. The bagsfilled with homemade jam, my mums fruit loaf, and heavy Bramley appleswere nearly too much.
After fifty metres, it became obvious I couldnt carry them all the way. My back just wouldnt allow it.
I pulled out my phone and rang Mark.
Hi love, its me, I whispered when he finally answered.
Emily? Whats wrong? His voice was all nerves.
Nothings wrong. Im on the High Street, by the bus stop. I came back early! Please, can you come help me? Mum packed so muchits just too much for me to carry.
There was an odd silence. I checked the screen, wondering if the call had dropped.
Youre at the bus stop? Now? You didnt tell meyou were meant to come back on Thursday!
I wanted to surprise you, I said, frowning. Arent you pleased? Im knackered please, come and help me.
Wait! Dont come up. Actually, I meanEmily, the place is totally bare. I finished off everything last night. I took a day off today, wanted to do a bit of cooking for when you got back. Why dont you stop off at Tesco, just round the corner? Pick up some beef, the good kind. Im planning to make us a proper lunch. I want to do it nicely for you.
What on earth, Mark? I blinked, confused. Have you heard a word Ive said? Im six months pregnant, standing here with two massive bags!
My backs killing me. The last thing I need is to go shopping. Theres potatoes at home, and eggs. Please just come and get me.
No, Em, listen he interrupted, speaking even faster. I want everything to be perfect. Its only just down the road. Please, pick up some beef, and fresh potatoesthe last lot have gone soft. If you ask someone to help or take them in trips if you needyoull manage! This is for us. Ive already started here.
I looked at my red palms, a bitter heat boiling up inside.
Are you being serious, Mark? My voice shook. You want me to drag myself to the shop for beef? Right now? After all that, you cant come down and help me?
Ive startedumm, cleaning! If I come out now, Ill ruin it. Do it for me, Em, please. Get eight hundred grams of beef, and a small bag of potatoes. Come on, Im waiting!
He hung up before I could reply. I stared at my blank phone, my frustration simmering. I wanted to cry, right there on the cold pavement under the harsh glow of the street light. Instead of a hug and a warm bed, I got a detour to the meat aisle. Maybe he really is doing something lovely, I thought for a second. Sighing, I picked up the bags and limped off to the shop.
The cold Tesco was dead quiet, the sleepy cashier glancing at me with pity as I pushed my trolley. The beef was heavy, and the net of potatoes almost impossible to carry. By the time I left, my hands were numbmy fingers wouldnt bend properly anymore.
My phone rang again.
Did you get it? Mark asked, sounding chirpy.
Yeah, I muttered. Im right outside now. Open the door.
Wait! Dont come up yetjust sit on the bench. Ten minutes, I promise.
Youre joking? Mark, my feet are swollen, I cant stand much longer!
Its for the surprise! If you come up now, itll ruin everything. Just sit outside a bit, get some fresh air, five minutes, honestly. Gotta go, wont have time otherwise!
He hung up again. I slumped onto the bench outside our block, the bags rattling to the ground. I was so close to chucking that wretched beef up at the third-floor window.
Ten minutes passed, then twenty. I sat, stewing in angerand hungeras I imagined what awaited me inside. Flowers? A candlelit breakfast? A string quartet by the telly? There was nothing he could do that made this worth sitting out here, helpless, after such a long trip.
On minute thirty-five, the door squeaked. Mark emerged looking a messshirt inside out, sweat on his brow, hair sticking up.
Oh, there you are! he forced a smile, grabbing my bags. Why so grumpy? Lovely weather tonight. Come on, lets not hang about.
I squinted as I struggled to my feet, leaning heavily on the railings. Why are you so sweaty? And why do you absolutely reek of bleach?
Youll see! he bounced into the lift, practically giddy.
We took the lift up. Mark flung open the door, his chest out expectantly. The moment I walked into the flat, my nose was assaulted by the sharp stench of bleach and an overly sweet Ocean Breeze air freshener.
I checked the living room, the kitchen, even the bathroom. The place was spotlessoddly empty. The usual clutter was gone, the carpet freshly hoovered, damp patches here and there, dust wiped from every shelf, my trinkets crammed in the corner. Even the loo gleamed.
Well? Mark beamed, looking for applause. Surprise!
I turned to face him.
Thats it? I asked quietly.
What dyou mean, thats it? He looked genuinely wounded. Emily, look! Ive spent three hours cleaning! Ive scrubbed everything, even under the sofa! Washed all the dishes, even gave the loo a proper seeing to. I wanted you to come home to a nice clean houseno chores to do. Thats why I sent you to Tesco.
Tears pricked my eyes.
You mean to say I gulped the lump in my throat. You put me through all that, sent me out shoppingso you could mop the floor?
You couldnt have just come and helped me? I begged you.
Well, yeah! Mark clapped his hands. I was only trying to do something nice! You always say I dont help enough around the place, so I wanted to prove I can. You came back earlyI had to buy more time, finish up. And now youre just standing there, looking at me like Im dirt.
Mark, are you even listening? My temper finally snapped. I dont care about your precious floors! Im pregnant, my backs in agony, the bags were too much! I needed you to be there, to hold my hand and get me home, not mess about with the mop!
Mark flushed, throwing the rag in the sink.
Oh, here we go again! he shot back. No pleasing you! Ive been on my feet since five a.m., trying to make things nice for you, and you stroll in and start yelling. Do you even see how clean it is? Cleaner than on our wedding day!
I dont need things this clean if it means leaving me waiting outside for half an hour! The pain and humiliation bubbled over. You made me buy groceries when I was already struggling! This isnt a surprise, its cruelty!
Oh, cruelty, is it? Mark raged, pacing the kitchen. Well, sorry Im not Mr Perfect! Anyone else would be thrilledhouse clean, dinner on the go. But you only think about yourselfyour back, your feet. Im tired too, you know! I was up all night, just wanting to make you happy!
I buried my face in my hands.
You just dont get it, I sobbed. You chose a shiny skirting board over looking after your pregnant wife.
Whats that got to do with anything? he shouted. You came back early! You ruined the surprise, not me! If youd come as planned, youd have found everything done, youd be happy, and Id have done it perfectly. But noyou had to barge in and make it my fault. Youre just ungrateful, Emily. Thats all.
He stormed out, slamming the bedroom door.
The baby kicked hard. I slumped into a chair, staring at the beef Mark hadnt put away. A wave of nausea hit me. I sat there, fighting tears.
About ten minutes later, he poked his head back in.
Are we still making the beef thenor are you not eating out of spite?
No, Mark, leave it. I just want to sleep, I whispered. Please, just leave me alone.
Fine! He slammed the door again.
I wandered to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Pale, messy hair, bags under the eyes. I thought about the bus journey, the moment Id imagined Marks arms around me and a simple, Thank God youre home. Fat chance. A hughow ridiculous the idea seemed now.
When I came out, the row flared up again. We argued over another petty thing. Eventually, still in my travelling clothes, I grabbed my bags and left for my parents house.
Everyone tried to talk me out of leavinghis parents, his sister, even my distant relatives. Mark phoned, always apologising, insisting hed learned his lesson. But Id already decided: I didnt want a husband who put a clean flat above the health of his family. Divorce was inevitable. Theres no point keeping a man who only cares about clean floors, not about the wellbeing of his wife and child.
And thats what I learned that day: Love should make you feel held, not left out in the cold for the sake of a tidy carpet.
