Ive got enough on my plate already! What more could you possibly ask of me? Eleanor protested, her voice edged with indignation.
Her husband, Simon, said nothing in response. As always, he chose to bury his head in the sand, hoping things would somehow sort themselves out. They never did, of course Eleanor was the one who always took charge of problems. She worked from home as a graphic designer, tapping away on her computer with a flexible schedule. At first, her salary was modest, but after earning further qualifications, Eleanor began to earn significantly more than her husband. Out of her income, she paid off the car loan, funded their holidays, and bought appliances and clothes. Then came maternity leave. Eleanor kept up her pace as best she could, carrying and giving birth to their child with barely a pause, determined not to lose her good earnings.
When their little boy Oliver started nursery, things eased up. Eleanor, relieved, dove even further into her work. Now, though, they had to pay for the nursery too and it wasnt an ordinary place; Eleanor had picked it with great care. She wanted the very best for her son. As always, Simon left the decisions to her, just as he did with so many things.
All this time, they lived in a flat left to Eleanor by her grandmother. Simon, for his part, had no property of his own. Before their marriage, hed been living with his mother and his niece, the daughter of his elder sister, who had passed away three years earlier. That loss had was a terrible blow to Simons mother, Margaret. Her health began to decline, with her blood pressure soaring alarmingly high.
By the time Simon married Eleanor and moved out, his niece, Polly, was already at university and quite independent. She had her own life spending time with friends, travelling, out with boyfriends hardly ever home.
Margaret came to Simon and Eleanor’s household with all her worries and woes or more accurately, she sought Eleanors help, as the rest of the family were no help at all. Still, she never forgot to indulge Polly, the beloved grandchild, paying for all her little luxuries. Polly, after all, was an orphan; her mother had never married, and it was a subject Margaret never cared to discuss.
So went their lives, until Margaret was admitted to hospital after a particularly severe bout of high blood pressure. The after-effects were grave, leaving her bedridden. The doctors offered little hope for recovery.
As usual, Simon shirked responsibility and left Eleanor to sort it out.
Women are just better at this sort of thing, he shrugged.
At what sort of thing? Eleanor asked, puzzled.
You know looking after the ill, caring, rehabilitation and all that, he replied, scratching his head in thought.
Im a designer, not a nurse. I know no more about this than you do, she sighed. Well, Ill see what the doctor says.
Relations between Eleanor and Margaret had always been, at best, a diplomatic truce. In the early days, they sparred, and sometimes fiercely. Eventually, they decided not to fan old flames, especially as they didnt live together. Both had plenty of unspoken irritations, but out of politeness and respect, Eleanor endured Margaret, while Margaret, understanding her son was hardly the breadwinner, recognised Eleanors value and influence.
Margaret rarely saw her grandson her ailments always seemed to flare up just when some babysitting was needed. Eleanor knew she couldnt count on her for any help.
But now everyone expected Eleanor to step in. She collected Margaret from hospital after all, she worked from home and could come and go, unlike Simon, who was never allowed time off and brought her to Margaret’s home. It was decided Simons family would stay there a while to help.
They moved in. After three weeks, Eleanor had grown gaunt, as though her job was hanging coats, not managing a family. Somehow, still keeping up with her work, she added Margarets care to her daily juggle cooking broths, pureeing fruits and veg, feeding Margaret, bathing and turning her.
Polly, the adored granddaughter, wrinkled her nose and slipped quietly away to her room, staying put like a mouse until late, avoiding any chance of being roped into help. Mornings were for university, evenings for outings life kept moving for her. As for her grandmother, well, that was someone elses concern.
Simon, too, was next to useless. Eleanor pleaded with him:
Shes your mother! Help me, wont you? This is too much for one person!
I well, I cant This is womens work, Simon faltered as always. I went to the shops, got the groceries. What more do you want?
Womens work, as it turned out, was desperately hard. Margarets health didnt improve she grumbled, snapped at Eleanor, at Simon and anyone within earshot, her patience thinner than ever. She said things Eleanor thought shed never have let slip before her illness. According to Margaret, Eleanor was simply lucky: lucky to have been well educated, lucky to work from home, sipping tea in front of her computer while being handsomely paid. Poor Simon, so unlucky all his life: bad teachers, never got into university, all just misfortune.
Margaret had even taken out a loan to fund Simons education, though he scraped his way through, always cutting corners. Even though it was a paid university, attendance was still required, and lateness wasnt tolerated. Margarets nerves were shot before her boy finally scraped his certificate. All because of bad teachers, she muttered. Then her daughter fell ill, passed away, and she juggled just to keep everyone afloat. At least Polly, clever girl, got into university on her own merits not that Margaret ever let anyone forget it.
Eleanor had listened to it all a hundred times before. Everyone, it seemed, was wonderful except for her. It was always luck, never effort.
Lucky me indeed Eleanor mused bitterly, Especially in my choice of husband. What on earth did I ever see in him? Was I blind? She found herself thinking it more and more.
One day, she suggested they hire a carer for Margaret and move back to their own flat.
A carer? Simon gasped. Thats expensive I cant afford that If you want to hire one, pay for it yourself.
Thered always been an arrangement Simon handled the bills and basic groceries, everything else was Eleanors responsibility. So, naturally, the carer would be her expense, too. Pretty clear, isnt it? Eleanor fumed. But its the way he said it! Am I meant to do everything for everyone? No, theyve taken advantage of me for too long. I want to live, not just fade away, and nobody bats an eyelid.
When it finally became too much, Eleanor realised she simply couldn’t, and wouldn’t, go on. One day, after helping Margaret, she told her she was popping to the shops but left, taking Oliver from nursery and returning home to her own flat at last.
How wonderful she thought, lying on her huge double bed, gazing at the ceiling. Im home. I dont want anything. I just want to lie here. Im so tired
She called Oliver for dinner. As they ate, Eleanor imagined the chaos brewing back at Margarets house. She hadnt abandoned the old woman she had fed and changed Margaret, and Simon would return from work in about an hour, just as usual. Eleanor had left him a note:
I cant and wont live like this any longer, Simon. Im leaving. I wish your mother a speedy recovery, but I owe nothing to anyone. Please, dont hold it against me.
And then she switched off her phone.
Simon turned up that evening but Eleanor didnt even let him in, speaking only through the open door. There was nothing more to say. He didnt ask about her, or why shed left. He said nothing about love for her or Oliver. He only cared about what hed do without her.
I suggest you hire a professional carer, Eleanor told him, The care will be far better. And yes, Im filing for divorce. Im not a beast of burden for you all to ride. Goodbye.
Simon left empty-handed. Later, Eleanor switched her phone back on after all, she might get work calls.
Margaret rang, pleading with her to come back, saying sorry for her words and for her thankless attitude. But under the apology ran a current of superiority, as if she expected Eleanor to waste no time in forgiving them and return to her duties.
Eleanor explained that she owed them nothing. Margaret had a son, and a clever granddaughter, Polly. Let them, who owed her so much, take the reins now. Margaret hung up the phone.
The divorce went through.
And so Eleanor, unexpectedly, found herself single. And it turned out nothing really changed. She still did everything herself only now she had less to worry about. For that, she was grateful, thankful that life had opened her eyes to those she once called family.
Margaret did recover, largely thanks to a splendid carer, one who not only provided proper nursing, but also led her through specialised rehabilitation exercises. Simon, remarkably, found a part-time job So, it was possible all along! Eleanor laughed to herself, years later, when Polly mentioned it in passing and hired the carer. Before that, Polly herself lent a hand, cooking and caring for her grandmother. She managed just fine it turned out she could help after all.
In the end, it did everyone good, mused Eleanor, taking on another commission, sitting at her desk. Getting them all off my shoulders benefited them and me. Ill be wiser, now, for itShe glanced out the window, sunlight warming the curls on Olivers head as he drew spaceships, their home filled with the quiet music of pencils on paper. There was peace now not the absence of challenge, but the presence of freedom. Eleanor felt herself exhale beliefs shed clung to for years: that sacrifice was a form of love, that her own happiness must wait its turn, that asking for more meant asking for too much.
She scooped Oliver into a hug, squeezing him until he giggled. Lets go for a walk, little man.
As they wandered outside, Oliver skipping ahead, Eleanor noticed the world anew: neighbors greetings without expectation, the scent of rain promising new beginnings, and a sense, stirring deep within, that she could shape a life by her own design. No one would mistake her for lucky, but it no longer mattered. She had chosen self-respect over resignation, wholeness over weariness.
On their way home, Oliver plucked a dandelion and pressed it into her palm. Make a wish, Mum!
She smiled, closing her eyes as the soft white seeds floated away, carrying her wish to places she could not see and by letting go, for the first time in years, Eleanor knew she was already living it.
