DAUGHTER-IN-LAW
Last Sunday, I set a large serving dish with roast duck down on the dining table, the white linen cloth gently smoothed around plates and silverware polished to a shine. I sighed as I adjusted a napkin once more. Any moment now, both my sons would arrivewith their wives.
My youngest, George, had only just gotten married. The wedding was modest, just a small gathering at the registry office and then a simple meal with the family. I remember wishing they’d chosen something granderif it were up to me, we would have thrown a proper do. When I got married to my late husband, we just dashed to the registry and only bought our ringsa pair of slim gold bandsa year later. I wanted my boys to have real memories, a true celebration. Still, times change and so have their priorities.
Theres just one thing about Georges wife, Lucy, that unsettles meshes so incredibly put-together. She always looks immaculate, not a hair out of place. I suppose I cant complain. Lucy is a good girl, truly. Shes been nothing but supportive of George, even helped him land an excellent job, and has nudged him to work hard, climb the ladder. Before her, he seemed adrift well into his late twenties, no ambition, always content with the status quo. I was beginning to worry. After all, a mothers heart never stops fretting. But things sorted themselves out, to my relief.
But still, the way Lucy spends on herselfsalons, hair appointments, massages, manicuresit rubs me the wrong way. The amount they must shell out! To my mind, a married woman with family should put others before personal indulgence. My own needs always came last, especially after I became a widow. Even when the boys were adults, I kept supporting them however I could.
A sharp ring jolted me from my thoughtsthe family had arrived. Lucy breezed into the sitting room, glowing. Her hair was styled to perfection, nails done with care, and barely any makeup, yet her skin looked freshno doubt a professional touch.
Lucy, you look absolutely lovely! I exclaimed, honestly, though I couldn’t hide a hint of reservation. Is that a new suit?
It is, I picked it up yesterday, she replied with a bright smile. Got a nice bonus at work.
In that case, its best to set a little aside, I couldnt help but offer. All bonuses, overtime pay, even your Christmas bonussave for a rainy day. It always comes in handy, trust me!
Lucy said nothing. I genuinely appreciated her straightforward, caring manner, but deep down, I have to admit I dont quite see life the same way she does. To her, a rainy day only comes if you obsessively wait for it.
The evening went rather well, all things considered. Still, I couldnt resist gently mentioning money a few timesthose little expenses that add up. Lucy understood. My comments were about her, clearly.
Eventually she turned the question to me. Have you ever had a manicure, Betty?
Oh, I no, I never have, I stammered, a little embarrassed. I do my best to keep my hands tidy at home. Thats always been enough.
No one else noticed the awkwardness, but I could tell Lucy felt sorry for me. Imagine, raising two grown sons with good jobs now, and never feeling it right to spend just a little time, a little money, on yourself.
She mentioned it to George on the drive home. Has your mum ever done anything just for herself?
I dont know really, he shrugged. She cooks, she hosted that lovely dinner tonight, watches her programmes, visits the neighbours. Why?
Because I dont think shes had any fun in ages! You should take her to the cinema, or the theatre, or for a nice meal out.
Oh, shes not fussed about all that, shes happy as she is.
Lucy went quiet, but I suspect she was weighing me against her own motherwho, even when times were tight, always made sure she had a good haircut, a new dress, and tickets to the theatre, simply for pleasure.
Soon after, Lucy phoned and asked if Id fancy a stroll around town with her, maybe a coffee togetherand perhaps, just perhaps, a quick visit to the beauty salon. She wanted to see her beautician, and suggested I could try something too.
Oh, I dont know, I hesitated, feeling nervous. If you need your treatment, Ill just wait outside or in the foyer.
Why wait? Lucy urged. You could have a manicure and a hand massagejust half an hour or so. You might enjoy it!
On a whim, I agreed, albeit reluctantly. I suspect Lucy had rung the salon ahead of time and explained everything, because the staff were delightfulfriendly, encouraging, offering me extra treatments and politely refusing to let me worry about cost.
Dont worry, its all sorted, Betty, the young manager assured me. Lucys already paid, and today theres a specialbring a friend, and they get pampered for nothing.
In the end, I spent two hours there, not half! I lost track of time, soothed and cared for, hands warm, a lovely cup of herbal tea and even coffee offered. I came out refreshed, lighter than Id felt in years.
Afterwards, Lucy and I made our way to a new café nearby, the air scented with pastries and fresh beans. I took a sip of frothy cappuccino and leant back, more comfortable in my own skin.
Shall we make these outings regular? Lucy suggested. They always have great deals for regulars. Did you enjoy it?
I did, I admitted honestly. I never realised how nice it could be.
You should have tried ages ago!
Well, with little ones and my late husband I couldnt help but smile fondly. He kept a close eye on spending, never encouraged treats. Later, there never seemed reason.
Theres every reason now, Lucy pressed. Come with me next time. Its more fun together!
All right then, I said. Sometimes, for company.
So, a new tradition was born. Salon visits, the odd update to my wardrobe (Lucy fibbed about the price, thank heavens), the whole family going out to a restaurant and even the cinema together. At Christmas, Lucy gave me a years pass to the local theatrea marvellous present.
My, you look younger every day, my neighbours told me, noticing the change.
Oh, its the youngsters, keeping me on my toes, I replied with a shy smile.
Honestly, it does feel as if, now Im retired with two grown sons, Ive finally stepped into a new youtha chance to live not just for them, but for myself as well.
