Im not going to mind the children of my sisterinlaw on my day off Im turning into the numberone enemy now, she muttered to herself as the rain drummed its endless rhythm on the London flats windowsill.
Are you serious right now? a voice crackled over the handset, shrill as a kettle about to whistle. Emily, can you hear me? Ive nowhere to put them, and youve got a day off!
Elena pulled the phone away from her ear, twisted her face into a sour line, and pressed the receiver back to her ear, a heavy sigh escaping her. Friday evening, the one she had been dreaming of all week, began to split at the seams. Outside, Octobers rain fell in sheets, tapping the sill like impatient fingers, while on the stove a pot of borscht simmered lazily more out of habit than hunger.
Emily, I hear you perfectly, Elena replied, steady as a lighthouse, stirring the soup with a ladle. And Ive already told you: no. I have plans for tomorrow. Ive booked a doctors appointment, then I intend to sleep in. This is my only day off in two weeks; I deserve some peace.
Doctors appointment, huh? Emily snorted. I know your doctors. Another massage, a manicure perhaps? And Im not going out for a stroll. Ive got paperwork to sort at the Citizens Advice Bureau queues that stretch for miles. Where would I take the twins? Theyd turn the whole place upside down!
Exactly, Emily. Theyd wreck everything. If they can turn a government office into chaos, imagine what they’d do to my flat, which I only finished renovating a month ago. Elena switched off the burner and slumped onto a stool. Pasha painted the new hallway wallpaper with a marker last week. You said its just a kid, itll wash off. It didnt. We had to redo a whole strip.
Dont start with the wallpaper again! Emily shrieked. I apologized! And besides, Simon promised youd help. Hes my brother after all!
Elena closed her eyes. Of course. Simon everready, everagreeable, the brother who could never say no to his little sister. Emily knew how to pull his strings, playing on guilt and blood ties like a slightly outoftune piano.
Simon promised then deal with Simon, Elena cut off. Just remember, he wont be home tomorrow until evening; hes off to the garage to sort a gearbox problem. If you bring the kids, theyll be stuck by the front door.
You youre selfish! Emily spat, slamming the receiver down.
Elena set the phone on the table and rubbed her temples. The kitchens silence felt fragile, like a sheet of ice about to crack. She knew this conversation was only the first gust of the coming storm.
Half an hour later a key turned in the lock. Simon stepped in, shaking off the rain, cheeks rosy from the chill.
Smells like borscht! he kissed Elenas cheek. Lena, why so sour? Something happen at work?
Without a word Elena ladled soup into a bowl, placed a dollop of cream on the side and sliced a loaf of bread. Only when Simon settled into his chair, fork poised, did she speak.
Your sister called.
Simons spoon froze midair. A guilty smile tugged at his lips as he guessed the meaning.
Ah, Emily right. She said she has to run off somewhere tomorrow. Lena, could you watch them? Itll only be a couple of hours. The boys have grown; theyre not such little monsters any more. Put on a cartoon, hand them a tablet and itll be quiet.
Simon, Elena said, crossing her arms, a couple of hours for Emily always stretches to a whole day. Last time she said she was popping to the shop for a minute and came back six hours later with a cocktail scent and a new haircut. Meanwhile I was scrubbing the cat out of modelling clay and rescuing your vinyl collection from a flying frisbee battle.
Okay, she overdid it then, Simon winced. But this time its serious. Shes alone with them, its hard for her. Mum called, asked for help. Her blood pressures up; she cant lift them.
My blood pressure? My nerves are about to snap, Elena snapped. Im the chief accountant; the financial year is closing. I get home and I collapse. Tomorrow is my day. I want to lie in the bath, read a book, not talk to anyone. I didnt sign up to be a freerange nanny. Emily has an exhusband, child support, the means to hire a babysitter for an hour. Why should we be a lifeline around the clock?
Simon put down his spoon; his appetite vanished.
Lena, its family. Dont you get it? Today we help, tomorrow they help us.
Help us? Elena laughed bitterly. When was the last time they helped us? When we moved, we asked Emily to look after the cat for a day and she said she was allergic even though shes never shown any signs, just didnt want fur on her sofa. When I came down with the flu and asked your mother to pick up medication because you were on a business trip, she said she was afraid to catch it. Oneway street, Simon.
Simon fell silent, staring at his plate. He knew Elena was right, but the ingrained habit of being the good son and brother clung to him like glue.
Fine, he muttered. Ill talk to her. Ill say we cant.
Elena didnt trust him, but she nodded. The rest of the evening passed in strained quiet. Simon typed on his phone, frowned, sighed heavily, but never raised the subject again.
Saturday morning didnt begin with birdsong or sunshine; it started with a relentless, demanding buzz from the intercom. Elena, just risen and stretching in bed, glanced at the clock: nine a.m.
Who could that be? she whispered, already knowing the answer.
Simon, already in his jogging bottoms, slipped on his shoes in a hurry.
I dont know, maybe a mistake, he mumbled, avoiding Elenas eyes.
The intercom rang again, long and shrill. Then Simons mobile buzzed.
Emily? he answered, guilt flashing across his face. We agreed I wrote to you Emily, you cant do this!
Emilys voice erupted from the speaker, shrill enough that Elena could hear every word despite being across the bedroom.
I dont know anything! Im already at the block! I have a booking I cant cancel! Pick up your nieces, dont be a rag doll! Ill call Mum if you dont open!
Simon looked helplessly at Elena.
Lena shes already here. What do I do? I cant leave them outside.
Something snapped inside Elena. The thin patience that had held their family together for years fractured. She rose silently, slipped into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. She cranked the tap to full blast, drowning out the sound of Simons clumsy steps toward the intercom.
Five minutes later the flat erupted into chaos. Four little feet pounded the hallway, highpitched giggles echoed, something crashed in the entrance, and a roar followed.
Uncle Simon, do you have sweets? shouted one twin.
Wheres the cat? We want a cat! cried the other.
Ugh, what smells? I wont have porridge! shouted a voice through the din.
Elena stood before the mirror, applying cream, hands trembling. From the hallway she heard Emilys hurried instructions:
Okay, youll pick them up at five. I left food for them, but check if Lenas making pancakes. And dont give them too many sweets; Pasha has a diet. Im off, love you!
The front door slammed. Emily vanished, leaving the mess behind.
Elena emerged from the bathroom, dressed in jeans, a sweater, light makeup, bag over her shoulder. The hallway was a battlefield. The twins, fiveyearold Jack and Tom, had already emptied the shoe rack and were now trying to pull Elenas boots onto their tiny feet. Simon ran in circles, bewildered.
Lena, where are you going? he asked, spotting her.
I told you, she answered calmly, stepping over scattered shoes. I have plans. Doctor, then a walk, maybe a film.
What about me? What about the kids? Ive got a garage appointment at eleven! I cant move it; the next slot isnt for two weeks!
Thats your problem, dear, Elena said, grabbing a coat from the rack. And your sisters problem too. Youll sort it out yourselves. I said no yesterday.
Lena, you cant do that! Simons voice trembled with panic. I cant handle them alone, and the car needs fixing! Stay at least until lunch!
Uncle Simon, Im thirsty! one twin shouted, tugging his trousers.
Tom, Ive got a bite on my arm! the other wailed.
Elena looked at the chaos, at a husband who seemed about to collapse under the weight of it all, and felt a strange lightness. The pity that had kept her tethered to other peoples messes evaporated.
The garage keys are on the hall table if you decide to go, she tossed. Theres no food in the fridge; I didnt cook. Order a pizza. Ill be late.
She slipped out, slamming the front door, cutting off the shrieks and pleas.
Outside, the rain had stopped, a pale autumn sun peeking through clouds. Elena inhaled the moist air, feeling like a fugitive whod escaped a prison. Her phone vibrated in her bag her motherinlaw, Margaret, was calling.
She hesitated, then silenced the device. No conversations today.
The day unfolded oddly. She visited a manualtherapy clinic, where a therapist coaxed her aching back into alignment. Later, she lingered in a cozy café, sipping a cappuccino crowned with foam, reading a novel without interruption. She watched a lighthearted comedy in the cinema, laughing until her sides ached.
She returned home after dark, around nine, heart still fluttering with a faint anxiety about the flat. Had the twins torn it apart?
The flat was eerily quiet. Shoes still littered the hallway, an open pizza box sat on the kitchen table, empty soda bottles glistened. In the living room, Simon lay on the sofa among scattered cushions and toys, the television muted.
Elena slipped into the bedroom. The twins were gone presumably Emily had taken them. She changed into comfy clothes, brewed tea, and settled at the kitchen sink. Her phone displayed a flood of missed calls: twenty from Margaret, five from Emily, ten from Simon, and a torrent of angry messages.
You selfish thing! Margaret texted. You abandoned your husband! Simons blood pressure spiked! How could you treat family like this?
Thanks for the help, sis, Emily wrote snidely. I got back an hour earlier because of you, my plans are ruined. Didnt expect such betrayal.
Elena deleted the messages without replying.
Simon crept into the kitchen, hair disheveled, dark circles under his eyes, as if hed been shoveling coal from a train. He muttered, halflaughing, halfsullen:
So it happened, huh? You sure you understand what went on?
I do, Elena said, sipping tea. Thats why I left. Did you manage the garage?
No garage! I cancelled. They drove me mad. Fights, shouting, cola spilled on the sofa I tried to clean the stain, only made it worse.
Elena looked over the rim of her cup.
See? Now imagine if that had been me. Id feel used too.
My mum called, Simon said, sinking into his chair. She was yelling, saying we dont respect her. Emily said she wont set foot in this house again until you apologise.
My apologise? Elena raised an eyebrow. For what? For not letting her sit on my neck? Simon, lets be honest. Emily didnt go to the Citizens Advice Bureau. Theyre only open till noon on Saturdays, and she dropped the kids off at nine, planning to pick them up at five.
How do you know that? Simon asked, suspicious.
Because I didnt lazylook; I checked her Instagram story. She posted a photo at the Plaza Shopping Centre, arms around two friends, glasses clinking. Time stamp: three hours ago.
Simons face flushed.
So shopping? She said it was urgent paperwork
Elena handed him the screenshot. The image showed Emily laughing, a bright cocktail in her hand, a caption Girls day out. He stared, speechless.
Thats thats it, he exhaled. I thought she was
Exactly, Elena replied, pocketing her phone. I wont apologise. Next time your mum or sister call with complaints, youll explain yourself. Or shall I show this photo to Margaret?
No, dont show Mum, Simon said quickly. Shell get upset, blood pressure and all that. Ill talk to Emily. Seriously talk.
He rose, clumsily wrapped his arms around Elenas shoulders.
Sorry, Lena. I was a fool. I thought I had to help, but it was all a mess.
Lets call the drycleaners, Elena sighed, pressing her forehead to his chest. And let Emily pay for it, of course.
Sunday passed in a hushed stalemate. No calls from the extended family; Elena and Simon kept to themselves. Emily tried a few times to ring Simon on Friday evenings, her voice dripping with complaint, but Simon now answered on loudspeaker, Emily, we have plans. Hire a babysitter. The line cracked as if it might burst.
Elena sensed the whole clan, up to the seventh cousin, were reshuffling their bones behind her back. She was now the villain of the family saga, the selfish witch, the splitter of mothers and sons.
Yet on Saturday morning, waking in the stillness of her flat, pouring coffee, knowing no one would jump on her sofa or paint the walls, she thought: being the numberone enemy isnt so bad. Its the price of freedom and selfrespect. And she was ready to pay it.
Later, on the street, a neighbour who knew all the family drama approached.
Lena, isnt that harsh? Family blood, after all. You ought to be softer, wiser. A womans lot is to endure and smooth the corners.
Elena smiled, her brightest grin, adjusted the new scarf shed bought with money saved from never buying gifts for the perpetually dissatisfied relatives, and replied:
My lot, Mrs. Whitfield, is to be happy. Let the ones who create the corners smooth them.
She walked on, heels clicking on the pavement, feeling the autumn wind puff out her coat like a superheros cape, freshly victorious over the neighbours petty tyranny.
