Nothing Less Than I Deserve

Pamela, you need to understand that my son has a schedule, things are not like that! I had to leave my house to come to tell you this, he comes home tired from work and still has to wait for you to make dinner? Dinner should be ready when he arrives. '' My mother-in-law Ms. Beth says to me moving things around in my kitchen, she treats me as if I do not take good care of my husband and that she needs to stay ''helping me'' with what to do, and I spend the whole day at home tidying up without at least having any right to sit down to stretch my legs.

Olavo was getting his clothes dirty all the time, and I had to pick them up one by one and wash them day after day. But of course, he went to my mother-in-law's house to complain about me, as always.

Mrs. Beth, I always cook dinner at 7:00 pm, because that's the only time I have when I finish cleaning the house and washing Olavo's countless clothes. You can see, the coffee bottle is full here and he's still drinking it. There are some cookies that I baked over the weekend, over there on top of the cupboard.' I point the jar at her, but she doesn't even listen to me, she's frying rice at the same time that she's already filled a pot with water to cook the noodles.

I grit my teeth and cross my arms.

Pamela, I know my son. He has lived with me all his life, I know his schedule. You two have been married for a little over three years and until today you haven't learned to reconcile life as a housewife with fulfilling your husband's desires? '' She turns to me raising her eyebrows.

Ms. Beth is a tall woman, a little stout, her hair is wavy and light; something like a reddish brown, and it is tied in a bun most of the time. Her eyes are strained and authoritative. Every day she comes to my house to criticize me, but she loves to pick on me too, sometimes I suspect that she can't stand me and just pretends to put up with it, since she has no way.

I swallow my words to avoid giving her a sharp answer.

Olavo arrived with her and went to the bathroom to take a shower and is still there.

When we got married I was only 20 years old. Olavo is 4 years older than me, we have known each other since we were children, and our parents were neighbors until my mother disappeared into the world with a guy and left us behind, I swore to myself that I would behave and that I would never be like her. That's why when Olavo proposed marriage to me even after we had formalized our official courtship at the door a few months earlier, I accepted. We got married as virgins, one never crossed the line with the other because we respected each other, we promised that we would only touch each other when we got married and so it happened. But I am extremely grateful for the life that my husband gives me, I have nothing to complain about, he gives me everything. I considered him the true gift from God!

My father molded me to be an excellent housewife! If we wanted to have employees, Olavo didn't think it was necessary since I know how to cook and have dealt with domestic chores all my life.

I don't do anything else in life, I just spend my days cleaning the house, tidying up, being the mistress of the home, and living solely for my husband. Yes! I love being a housewife, it's been my dream since I can remember. My routine is methodically defined down to the smallest detail. Olavo is a bit demanding so he always demands a lot from me and this makes me a nervous wreck most of the time.

Indeed, I never got to thinking too much about what my married life would be like, marriage was a goal for me, but I also love the part when the night comes and Olavo gives me affection as if I were a pet cat thirsty for his attention while he was always glued to his cell phone; I was no fool, I could feel that I was seeing some other woman's picture and this filled me with insecurity and jealousy. I felt disrespected.

Olavo is not exactly a fairy-tale prince, he is a normal guy. Although we were young, we behaved as if we were 80 years old, we did not travel as couples do, he did not sit on the sofa with me to watch television, nor did we take baths together. It was each one in his place. But our sex life is excellent! I won't deny that this part filled me with curiosity, but when my schoolmates talked about their relationships with their boyfriends, I got away from them because I wanted to have my own experiences when I had them. Olavo was the first man in my life and for sure we will live forever together because no other will ever take his place. He makes me feel like a woman very loved and immensely happy! living in the home of my dreams, if it were not for my mother-in-law who makes sure that I feel incompetent as a wife and housewife.

The house we live in has two floors and is the house I always dreamed of. It's not luxurious but it's ours, and I have everything I need here.

I step to the side when my mother-in-law makes an impatient sign with her hands for me to get out of the closet. From there she takes out a package of noodles, opens and breaks them, and pours them into the boiling water.

I feel embarrassed, humiliated, and uncomfortable but I don't say anything else either. Getting into an argument with her won't get me anywhere.

A few minutes later Olavo appears, wearing shorts, sandals, a T-shirt, and a towel around his neck.

The smell is wonderful, Mom," she smiles radiantly. My chest compresses inside me, but I keep quiet and watch the two of them get along. My husband kisses her on the side of her head and then looks at me. The seasoning is the same way my mother makes it, look how fantastic it smells! Olavo closes his eyes for a few seconds as if he were about to float away intoxicated by the smell of my mother-in-law's seasoning.

I press my lips together feeling frustrated.

Each person has his or her way of making spices. That doesn't mean your mother is better than mine .''

He raises his eyebrows at me '' Love... it is .''

My mother-in-law turns to me widening her smile even more.

"One day you'll get there Pamela. But if my son is saying, thank you, my love .''

Humiliated, swallowing all the anger and the desire to cry, I stay close to them, leaning against the wall, listening to Olavo telling Mrs. Beth about his day and his work; things that I never heard him talking to me, he talks to her.

During dinner, I swallowed the food very hard. It seemed that there was a cake stuck right in the middle of my throat preventing the food from going down. Dona Beth and Olavo talked and laughed non-stop, when he inserted my name in the middle of his speech it was only to make fun of my face. He even remembered that on one such day, I let the cake burn, the only thing he "forgot" to mention was that I asked him to look in the oven while I washed his socks for work, and he was still on his legs, lying on the couch laughing at memes on his cell phone.

When we went to bed and he tried to look for me to claim me as his wife, I stepped away, reaching the edge of the bed, almost falling over. The tears of humiliation did not stop rolling down my face, I suppressed the sobs and let the pain mistreat me.

"What was love?" kissed me on the shoulder, and I shrunk running away.

"Nothing. '' I swallowed with difficulty. My throat was scratching and hurting from the effort I kept making not to open the scream at once.

Olavo tries to turn me towards him but I don't give in, stiffening my body.

''Hey. What happened? Why are you avoiding me and crying?''

Now I couldn't stand it anymore. A wave of anger burned me violently.

"What happened and why am I avoiding you and crying? Really Olavo? I spend the whole day completely given over to housework, washing my clothes without stopping, so I can go to work. I make lunch, dinner, and snacks and you join with his mother to humiliate me like that? Insinuating that I'm worthless?''

He comes to touch my face but hurt I move his hand away, avoiding contact.

I would never humiliate you my beautiful, stop it.

Don't you travel? I repeat dumbfounded, feeling the pain in my chest intensifying '' And what was that there of the seasoning? huh? '' '' I throw my chin in his direction annoyed, but my husband only makes me look back with a face of poor, being that he is wrong but is making it seem that I am the only guilty one around here. '' He said clearly that his mother is a better cook than me .''

'' I didn't mean that .'' I let out a bitter laugh '' Really '' He touches my face, making me look at him '' Forget about it go, come to sleep. I'm sleepy and tired, you know I need to wake up early in the morning .''

I stared at his face, thinking I had made a mountain out of a molehill. Maybe my husband was right and I was looking for a fight, but I didn't need one.

I give in, he smiles kissing me on the mouth and then hugs me around the waist as I lay my head on his chest starting to feel lighter and calmer.

Possibly I was fighting without a plausible reason.

Sometimes I wish I could be as light-hearted as my husband is.

***

The next day I felt better but still remembering yesterday made me angry.

Frustrated I grabbed my cell phone and sat on the couch while I put the water on the stove to make coffee. I had a coffee maker but I liked to make it the way my mother made it the traditional way.

I get on Instagram, there were 4 unread messages from my nameless friend.

I have a fake social media account, I don't like to take pictures of myself to post. But I take pictures of my house all the time when I wash the bathroom and leave the box shining, the kitchen spotless, the living room always tidy, and the sheets on the bed every time I change them. Posting things like this made me happy because I was a housewife.

Since we started talking we preferred to keep our identities hidden from each other - so we could talk about everything without embarrassment and of course I loved the idea. I didn't know if he was male or female and neither did he me - but I think he must suspect that I am female since all my feed is about my life as a housewife.

With a smile, I open the message on the direct.

No name -'' You woke up excited today, huh virtual friend? Already posting this early in the morning?''

Your husband should live the life he asked God for, having such a gifted woman by his side.

But seriously now ... don't you feel like doing different things, since every day you post new sets of nonstick pans? It's not a criticism. ;)''

''Then answer me about it. You must really be busy with your kitchen and your pots and pans .''

I laughed and shook my head in the negative. Actually, your message was from yesterday, but I didn't even have time to log into Instagram again, my busy life here at home didn't allow me such a treat.

I answer him back.

Dona do lar.com '' First of all good morning! I told you that for all my life I've always woken up early .''

"And second. How do you know I'm a woman? There are men cooks too. Did you know that? I put an emoticon giving him tongue.

And third I love to cook, I was born with talent for it. Do not blame me if you are a disaster in the kitchen and are jealous of my good performance.

"And lastly! I'll always be busy with my kitchen and my pots and pans.

I put my hand to my mouth feeling my heart skip a few beats when the name Seen appears.

He/she had just come online.

I almost left the direct but decided to stay to see what he would answer me when the name-typing message appears.

No name:'' The living ones always show up, I'm glad you're ok. Good morning to you too! I'm glad you're okay too, pot lady.

''Yes, I knew there are male cooks but none of them would form such an organized feed as hard as that, and not to mention that your user name is HOUSE.COM. I widen my eyes and pay more attention to what he said.

I slap my forehead with my hand cursing myself. How could I have been so careless? and here I was swearing that he had no idea that I was either a man or a woman, what a fool!

Nameless: "And who told you I'm a disaster in the kitchen? I can make dishes that would make you fall over backward.''

A chuckle escapes my mouth as I type back.

house.com:'' You're not even a little bit stuck up, are you? Or are you a woman too?'' I decide to play a hint and wait, biting my pinky nail.

Typing message ....

No name:'' This one I'll leave to your imagination, pot lady...''

house.com: ''When will you stop calling me pot lady ?''

No Name: ''Never...?''

Ridiculous! But I'm smiling

As I type a cheeky reply, I remember that I left the water for the coffee on the fire and by now it must be on the verge of drying out.

I throw the cell phone aside and run to the kitchen.

Luckily for me, the water was just bubbling.

Opening a satisfied smile I make the coffee and then go back to the living room grabbing my cell phone hoping to return to have funny conversations and that distracted me from my day of horror last night, with my virtual friend .

Housewife.com: One day you will stop calling me that , maybe when you really know me ?

I wait for him to answer but get no answer back. He has probably left the chat room.

I feel a little discouraged because I really enjoyed talking to him/her. Every time when things like this happened to me between Olavo and my mother-in-law humiliating me, my virtual friend distracted me with his stupid, debauch-laden jokes.

This makes me think that he must be an amazing person to live with! - Whoever has him on their side should certainly raise their hands to the heavens and thank God every day for making people smile.

After eating my breakfast, I put my cell phone in the apron I use for housework and as soon as I run to clean the house, I still have to sew some of Olavo's shirts. If I didn't get going soon, the day would go by in a hurry and I still wouldn't have done half the things I was supposed to do.

This makes me think that in the afternoon, before my husband arrives, I should stop by Heidi's house. He can't stand her, he says that my best friend of all my life since high school is going to get me in trouble. This is because Heidi never dates anyone seriously, much less formalizes any kind of relationship. On our wedding day she came accompanied by a guy with whom she was dating, a few days later when I went to her apartment she was already hooking up with another, leaving me horrified by so much unnecessary ''freedom'' and I was really in favor of a person being able to live their life the way they want but crossing the line to be talked about by the mouth of the people, was already too much.

Heidi always criticized me because I was well dressed - with clothes that covered my skin too much - .... this was her opinion, because Olavo helped me with the choices of what I should wear. As we came from traditional families, it was not common for us straight women to wear pieces of cloth and think that we were dressed up. This was a shame for the family and beyond that a disrespect to the husband; I grew up knowing that a woman should only show her body to her spouse and no one else but him.

My kitten Alfredo meows at me approaching the door , circling around one of my legs tangling around my ankle .

Now you show up, don't you, stud? Do you think I haven't heard you these past few days, making a success of the cats on the roof? He meows at me, certainly matching my line.

I smile, caressing his hair, picking up his ration and filling his bowl.

I stop with my hands on his waist watching him approach his pot.

Now eat it all and leave again. But the bastard is already with his mouth on the ration starting his moment of gluttony.

Alfredo is a Siamese cat, he has bright blue eyes, and his paws are half coffee brown. His hair is the color of coffee with milk. I got him from my father before I got married and of course I brought him to live with me, even though he lives more outside than inside the house. Olavo hated Alfredo and I never understood why, but I also didn't argue with him about it, not mistreating my pussy was already good enough.

At 4:00 in the afternoon, I was ready to go. Finally, after a long week, I would be out on the street. I wasn't exactly one for wandering around without any necessity. I only took my feet out of my cozy house, when I had to go to the market to do shopping and such things.

We live in New Orleans - it is a city in Louisiana on the banks of the Mississippi River, near the Gulf of Mexico. It is very busy, especially at night, and I hated going out so much. In vibrant times the festive spirit of the city in a late winter carnival, which is famous for the lively parades and parties in the streets, became crazy.

Heidi lived on Royal Street so it would take me about half an hour to get there.

My cell phone beeps when I am halfway there, I would take the bus. Taking a cab would be expensive, and I was saving money to buy Olavo a birthday present two months from now.

I take the phone out of my purse and see Heidi's name on the screen.

It was a message.

I slide my finger across the screen

Heidi: Where are you, Pam? No more ????

I type another message for her, informing her that in a few minutes, I will be arriving. Actually, it will take much longer than a few minutes. But I decide not to tell her that, otherwise Heidi will be able to drive me crazy by sending me exasperated messages all the time, with the intention of knowing if I'm already around.

Between two crowded buses and a busy afternoon, I let out a sigh of relief when I stop in front of Heidi's apartment, after walking at least two blocks.

On top of these heels, I begin to regret having used them today, I could have opted for my usual companion sneakers, but as I never use these shoes I thought that using them today would fit well, for a brief visit to a dear friend. Heidi was like a sister I never had.

At the front desk, I asked her to tell me that I had already arrived, but she left a notice for the doorman so I could go up, thanked him, and entered the elevator, grimacing because I could no longer stand the unbearable pain that the heels were causing me in my heel. I haven't worn them for so long that it would be a miracle if I wasn't paying penance now.