Where Are We Headed? And Who’s Going to Cook for Us?

**Diary Entry**

*Where to? And wholl cook for us?*

*”What on earth are you doing? Where are you going? Whos going to cook for us now?”* My husband, Geoffrey, sounded stunned as he watched me pack my bag after yet another row with his mother.

I glanced out the window. The sky was grey and dismal despite it being early spring. In our little northern town, sunny days were raremaybe thats why the locals were always so gloomy and unfriendly.

Lately, Id noticed my own reflection lacked a smile, and the crease between my brows made me look older than my years.

*”Mum! Im going out!”* called my daughter, Emily.

*”Fine,”* I nodded.

*”Fine? Give me some money, then.”*

*”Since when do walks cost money?”* I sighed.

*”Mum! Seriously?!”* Emily lost patience. *”Theyre waiting for me! Hurry up! And why so little?”*

*”Enough for ice cream.”*

*”Youre such a miser,”* she muttered before darting out the door.

I shook my head, remembering the sweet little girl Emily used to be before turning into a teenager.

*”Rosie, Im starving! Whens dinner?”* Geoffrey shouted from the living room, irritation sharp in his voice.

*”Go and eat,”* I replied flatly, placing a plate on the table.

*”Arent you going to serve me?”*

I nearly dropped the pan. What nonsense

*”We eat in the kitchen, Geoff. Take it or leave it.”* I sat down without another word.

Fifteen minutes later, he finally wandered in.

*”Cold disgusting.”*

*”Next time, dont take so long.”*

*”I asked you nicely! No love, no care at all! You know Im watching the match!”* He shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth. *”Tastes rubbish.”*

I rolled my eyes. Football had turned him into a strangerendless bets, overpriced merch, match tickets An obsession that hadnt existed when we were young.

Without sitting down once, he grabbed a beer to *”cheer himself up,”* crisps *”for the hunger,”* and stormed back to the telly. Leaving meRosieto clean up the mess.

No one ever appreciated what I did.

I was exhausted after my shift as a senior nurse at the hospital. Work was relentless, and home? No peacejust another job. Fetch this, tidy that.

*”Any more drinks?”* Geoffrey rummaged through the fridge. *”Whys there none left?”*

*”You drank them all! Should I be buying them for you too? Have some shame, Geoff!”* I snapped.

*”So dramatic,”* he scoffed, slamming the door as he left to restock for the next match.

I tried to sleeptomorrow would be another long daybut my mind wouldnt quiet. Where was Emily? Who was she with? It was dark now, and she still wasnt home. I didnt dare call; it always ended in a row.

*”Are you trying to embarrass me in front of my friends?! Stop calling!”* shed scream. So I stopped. Shed just turned eighteen, after allno job, no further studies, just *”finding herself.”*

Just as I drifted off, Geoffreys roars jolted me awake. Someone mustve scored. Then came the loud debate with our neighbour, whod *”popped in”* and stayed too long, bringing his girlfriend along. Midnight arrived, and so did Emilyclattering plates, stomping upstairs, ignoring everything. When silence finally fell, the cat started yowling for food.

*”Can no one in this house feed the bloody cat?!”* I stormed outmigraine pounding, exhaustion fraying my temper. Emily had her headphones on and tapped her temple mockingly. Geoffrey snored in front of the telly, beer can in hand.

*”Ive had enough I cant take this anymore,”* I thought.

The next morning, my mother-in-laws call woke me.

*”Rosie, darling, dont forgettime to plant the vegetables. And the cottage needs tidying.”*

*”I remember,”* I sighed.

*”Well go tomorrow.”*

My one day offspent under her watchful eye at the allotment.

*”Is that how you sweep? Hold the broom properly!* she barked from her garden chair.

*”Im nearly fifty, Veronica, I think I can manage.”*

*”Geoffrey would never do it like that.”*

*”And where is your precious son? Why isnt he driving you here? Why are we taking the bus for three hours? Its always Geoffrey this, Geoffrey that”*

*”Hes exhausted.”*

*”And Im not?”*

Regret hit me instantly. Veronica loved *justice*her own version, where I was always wrong. Shed spent a lifetime praising Geoffrey while treating me like a workhorse she barely tolerated.

We rode home in silence, sitting apart. The next day, she complained to Geoffrey, and he exploded.

*”How dare you raise your voice at my mother?!”*

*”What? If it werent for her”*

*”Youd still be at the clinic!”* he shot back, reminding me shed *”helped”* me get the hospital jobbetter pay, but stress and grey hairs. More than once, Id regretted leaving the quiet clinic.

*”What are you doing?”* His voice faltered as he saw me move.

For once, Rosie did something Geoffrey never expected.