“Well then, dear guests, have you had enough to eat? Had enough to drink? Did I serve you well?” Julia Mitchell asks, rising to the head of the long dining table.
“Yes, sis,” Brian says, satisfied, “youre always on point!”
“Absolutely!” Natalie backs him up. “We both learned to cook from Mum, but I never manage it as beautifully as you do. No wonder I always ask you to cater my parties!”
“Mum,” Emma chimes in, “and I cant get out of the gym again! But I cant just stop!”
“Mom, Ill send my wife over so you can teach her to cook,” Andrew says with a grin.
“Thats why I married you!” Victor declares, belching loudly. “Pardon me!”
“All right then!” Julia smiles widely. “Now, my dear and beloved” she pauses, the smile fading from her face, “get out of my house!”
“This is the last dinner I ever make for you! The last time Ill slave away in the kitchen! I dont want to see or hear you any more, and I dont even want to know you!”
She grabs the massive salad bowl from the table and hurls it to the floor with all her might.
“Enough, you little rascals! The dancings over,” she says, a cold smirk on her lips. “I wont let anyone use me as a stepping stone any longerespecially you!”
Silence hangs over the table. The guests stare, stunned. No one expected this from Julia, the everhelpful, compliant, dutiful one.
“Are you serious?” Victor asks, and receives an immediate slap from his wife.
“Call an ambulance, shes having a fit!” Natalie exclaims.
Julia lifts the empty decanter, eyes glinting. “Whoever reaches for the phone will get a good knock on the head!” she says, smiling sweetly. “What are you all doing, frozen? Get up and run, you greedy lot!”
“Julia!” Brian says sternly. “Im speaking as your older brother: calm down and pull yourself together!”
“No!” Julia replies, still smiling. “Im done serving you! I wont cater, I wont be a runnergirl for anyone who cant do things themselves! Thats itenough!”
“Fine, whats got you so wound up?” Victor asks, rubbing his reddening cheek. “Everything was fine!”
“I didnt gather you all for nothing,” Julia says, sinking into her chair and leaning back. “Your arrogance has crossed every lineby the way, its been that way for ages!”
“The last little protest of yours showed me just how bold youve become. I dont want you in my life any longer.”
“We havent done anything wrong,” Andrew protests. “Exactly, son!”
***
They say you have to live life the right way, and you cant argue with that. But what does right really mean? Everyone has their own answer.
Julia, now fortyfive, has spent her whole life convinced shes living it correctly. At worst, she could only blame herself.
She was the third child, with an older brother and a younger sister. She pleased her parents, adored her brother, and got along with her sister. She finished school, got a job, never aimed for stardom, never clung to fame.
She married, had two children, was a faithful, loving wife, never argued without cause, and a good mother. She raised her kids, educated them, and sent them off into the world.
Even as an adult she kept in touch with her brother and sisterhelping, celebrating, solving problems, sharing joy. People called her kind, responsive, smart, and understanding.
So she believed shed lived correctlyuntil at fortyfive she discovers what it feels like to be abandoned, alone, in the most miserable moment.
***
“Julia Mitchell,” the doctor says after lunch, “all the tests are back, no contraindications. Shall we schedule the operation?”
“Of course, doctor,” Julia replies sadly. “The decisions already made.”
“I understand,” the doctor notes, seeing her downcast look, “but you never know”
“Go ahead,” she waves her hand. “The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”
“Alright,” the doctor writes in her notes. “Youll have dinner tonight, nothing tomorrow, and the operation the day after.”
He turns to the woman in the next bed. “Katherine, your results arent great; well need to investigate further.”
“Okay, Dr. Oliver,” Katherine says.
When the doctor leaves, he asks Julia, “Why so quiet? Afraid of the operation?”
“Partly,” Julia nods. “My husband”
“Im heading home with a song,” Katherine jokes. “I feel the kids will get to Mum, and Ill throw a party! No worries, Ill sort it later. Maybe your husbands fled too?”
“Based on his last voice message, hes already fullblown,” Julia says, pursing her lips. “He knows I have an operation! He should at least show some support. Instead, hes out with his mates, drinking!”
“Ah,” Katherine waves it off. “All men are like thatcat at home, mice dancing!”
“It still hurts,” Julia admits. “A hysterectomy is serious. I needed even a hint of support. I told him I was scared and needed him now, but the moment I left, he sent two short texts and then went silent!”
Katherine, ten years younger, lacks the experience to comfort, so their conversation fades.
Julia skips dinner, taking nothing with her, knowing she must fast before surgery. She lies quietly, staring at the ceiling, remembering the time Vas, a coworker, broke his leg in two places. She drove to the hospital every day after work, bringing homecooked meals, clean clothes, staying late to keep him company, only getting home around midnight.
When he was released, she took leave to help him, like a hamster on a wheelnever refusing to fetch water, feed, wash, or tend to him.
“Why does he treat me like this?” Julia asks when Katherine returns from her own dinner.
“Not just yours,” Katherine laughs. “Everyones the sameconsumers! Do they teach them in school how to sit on a ladys lap?”
“Ive been pushing my husband for three years, getting a better job through contacts, but he never appreciates it. He only started working when I threatened divorce and alimony!”
“My husband works,” Julia says.
“Your husband has his own quirks,” Katherine gestures. “All the sameexploiter! If you dont tie them down, theyll sit on your neck, run off, and keep demanding!”
Julia wonders if shes overreacting, nervous about the operation.
“One thing doesnt stop another,” Katherine replies. “And the fact you hear no kind words from him is obvious! My husband, at least, brings me fruit juices, calls, sends heart emojis.”
Julia curls under a blanket, hiding her face.
***
Going a day without food, even when you need it, is hard. Julia plans to distract herself with chat, but the nurse, who sent her for tests all morning, keeps popping in briefly.
Phone in hand, she thinks, “Family wont refuse a chat to pass the time.”
Her son Andrew doesnt answer; he just texts that hell call back. Her daughter Emma misses two calls, then her number becomes unavailable.
“Good kids,” Julia mutters, confused.
“They wont pick up?” Katherine asks between her duties.
“Can you imagine?” Julia sighs. “Is it really that hard to answer your mother?”
“Adults?”
“Theyre living on their own.”
“Fine, Mum, forget them! Youll only see them when you need something. Theyve flown the nest; the wind will carry them back when it suits them!”
My sixteenyearold son already treats me like a stranger. If they live apart, parents become unnecessarygood to have them at a funeral!
“No, no!” Julia insists. “We have wonderful relations!”
“Then why dont they pick up?” Katherine presses.
Katherine rushes off, leaving Julia to wonder.
“Is it really that hard to find a minute to talk to your mum?” she thinks. “Lately all their visits have been about moneyno loans, just how much can you spare.”
Its heartbreaking. Katherine says, “The chicks have all flown; now they live their own lives. Parents are only remembered when needed.”
Julia dials her husband again. No answer. She leaves a message, unread.
“Oh, Vas,” she mutters. “If only hed stop slacking!”
By evening he finally replies: “Where are our savings? Pay packet ran out, nothing to live on!”
His pay had actually come three days ago.
“Still!” Julia muses, “A feast on a mountain, wine flowing like a river!”
She doesnt answer him. If hed at least hint that he worries, shed say something, but she lets him figure it out himself.
Brian answers her call, but says hes busy and hangs up.
“Typical,” Julia remarks.
Katherine isnt there, so she doesnt get a retort. She remembers the six months she lived in two houses after Brians wife left him, abandoning their children. She took care of the kids, the mother, the cook, the cleanereverythinguntil Brian found a new partner.
She also had to smooth over conflicts because Brian demanded love for his kids while she wanted love for hers; the others were against her.
“Ive been mediating for a year and a half, and never got a thankyou. And now hes busy again.”
When Julia calls back that evening, only a short beep and silence.
“Thanks for the black list, brother!” she jokes. He also knows about her upcoming operation. When he asked to take the kids for a month, Julia refused, citing the surgery.
Natalie gives Julia just five minutes, barely asking about her health:
“When will you be back on your feet? My husband’s relativesabout ten peopleare coming to stay in a hotel, but we need to feed them at home. Were counting on you!”
“I dont know, Nat,” Julia says. “The operation is serious. Two or three weeks in hospital, then a recovery period. Doctors say up to fifty days.”
“No, no, sister! Things dont work like that! You need to bounce back in three weeks, like a spring! This is my husbands familymore important than anything!”
“I’m scared,” Julia admits.
“Come on, stop being dramatic! Chitchat and off you go! Ive got to run!”
“Its annoying, chitchat and off you go!”
“Does it matter if the operation is routine? Complications could happen! Who knows!”
She looks at her phone, thinking about the cook she never learned to be. “I’m almost fifty, and I still cant make a decent meal!”
Natalie constantly calls her younger sister to cook for her guestscolleagues, her husbands friends, any celebration.
So Julia stays away from the stove for days, yet never gets invited to the table.
“What? Thats a strangers party!” Natalie snaps. “And you prepared it!”
The operation goes smoothly, but the hospital keeps her for another two weeks. Julia refuses to call anyone. She waits for someone to remember her, but no one doesno husband, no kids, no brother, no sister.
She ponders until she reaches a decisive conclusion.
“Julia, what nonsense are you spouting?” Brian protests. “Did they take out a piece of your brain with the uterus?”
“You remembered!” Julia laughs. “I thought no one would ever think of me again!”
She rises to the head of the table again.
“Listen up, my dear relatives! Ive been in the hospital two weeks, and not a single soul has bothered to ask how Im doing!”
No one! Not the brother whose children love me more than his new wife, not the sister who used me as a freerange cook all my life, not the loving husband who drained both his salary and our savings meant for a cottage, not the children I gave life to! Not a single call!
A hush of outrage hangs over the room.
“Ive spent my whole life doing everything you asked. And now, when I need just a bit of simple support, youre all gone!”
She decides she can manage on her own. She wont be a runnergirl any longer.
She addresses each one in turn.
“Vas, divorce without a word! Get out of my flat!”
“Kids, live your own lives! If you need help, go to dadhes lost you!”
“Billy and Natalie, Im done with you! Hire nannies and chefs elsewhere!”
“Are you all sane? How could you?” relatives shout.
Everyone stands up together, forming a line, all heading for the door.
“Enough!” Julia commands. “Im finally going to live for myself, not for you!”
With the room empty, she sits at the cleared table, glances at the shattered salad bowl and says, “I went overboard with my emotions,” then smiles. “Ill start my new life with a brandnew salad bowl.”
