My daughter, who lives abroad, specifically mailed me a box of imported, supposedly very expensive strawberries. I happily followed her instructions, washing them three times in a saltwater soak. Just as I was about to eat one, my one-year-old grandson started crying. After I finished feeding him and came back out to the living room, all that was left of the strawberries on the coffee table were a few green leaves. My husband of thirty-five years criticized me for being careless, saying I shouldn't have used a colander to hold them. "I don't know what you do all day. Look at this, there's water all over the coffee table." My son swallowed the very last strawberry, too busy playing a video game on his phone to even look up. "Mom, these strawberries are actually pretty good. Ask my sister where she bought them. I want to buy some for Chloe. She's been working so hard lately, I need to treat her." Looking at the puddle of water on the coffee table, I suddenly felt that this life was entirely meaningless. So, I turned around and called my daughter. "That visa you mentioned last time... can we still apply for it?" Later, my daughter posted a video of me picking giant strawberries at a farm abroad. I was smiling, looking ten years younger. The father and son back home saw it and their eyes went red. "It was just a strawberry. Why wouldn't she come back?" 01 "You're this old and you're still so clumsy. I really don't know how you manage to be a grandmother." My husband, Arthur, leaned back in his recliner, his legs crossed. He took a deep drag of his cigarette and continued nagging me through the cloud of smoke. "And you're still thinking about going to be a nanny for someone else? You'd be lucky if they didn't fire you on the first day." Looking at the face I had stared at for thirty-five years, I suddenly felt nauseous. It was like looking at a pile of old, rotting manure in a vegetable patch. I walked over and snatched the cigarette from his mouth, crushing it out in the ashtray. The movement was so sudden that Arthur froze for a good moment. "Have you lost your mind?!" I picked up the rag nearby and wiped the water off the coffee table. "My daughter-in-law said no smoking in the house. The baby is too young to be inhaling secondhand smoke." Arthur’s eyes went wide. "I wasn't smoking right next to my grandson! What's the big deal? The smoke clears in a minute!" Seeing him reach for his lighter again, I slammed the rag down on the coffee table. "Then you still can't smoke!" My suddenly raised voice finally caught the attention of my son, Mark. He looked up blankly from his phone screen, looked at me, then at his dad. He didn't say a word, just stood up and walked into his bedroom, still yelling at his game. "Push the lane! Push the lane! I'll tank the turret!" Honestly, I was famous for having a soft temper. In all our years of marriage, I rarely ever raised my voice at Arthur. Because every time I showed even the slightest hint of dissatisfaction, he would say: "Helen! Have your wings grown too stiff? Did you forget how I worked myself to the bone from dawn to dusk to support you all these years? You should be grateful!" Just like now. After I yelled at him, Arthur immediately stiffened his neck and started throwing out harsh threats. "I think you're getting senile. Throwing a fit out of nowhere! If you don't like the smoke, then get out of this house. If you've got the guts, leave my house!" "This is my house too! It's marital property, what right do you have to kick me out?!" My daughter, Emma, taught me to say that. Ever since she became independent, she always loved telling me I was a pushover, letting her dad control me for decades. She wanted me to grow a spine. "Women hold up half the sky! Mom, are you planning on indulging them for the rest of your life? You're only in your fifties. Instead of being an unpaid maid for them, you should come with me and see the world." I used to mumble and not know how to argue back with her. For decades, I had lived the first half of my life exactly like this. No one ever told me it was wrong. My mother, who died young, and Emma's grandmother, both said men were the sky, and women should yield and endure to keep the peace in the family. But Emma said that was wrong. She said a family is built by both partners, that a woman raising children is just as formidable as a man making money, and that there's no rule saying women have to serve men. Emma said it so often that a tiny bit of it finally stuck with me. And it came in handy right now. He yelled, so I yelled back. Arthur had never seen me stand my ground like this. For a moment, he was actually choked up. He panted heavily like an old ox, but in the end, he didn't light the cigarette. I looked down at the empty basket that used to hold the strawberries and said softly: "Those were the strawberries Emma bought for me. I didn't even get to eat a single one." "What?" Arthur acted like he didn't understand. I repeated it again. He looked at me in disbelief. "Just because of a strawberry, you're throwing a temper tantrum at me? How old are you, and you're still this gluttonous?" Right. Just because of a strawberry. But I served my in-laws, managed all the household chores, and raised two children. In all these years, I had never eaten a strawberry. When I was young, we didn't have the money for them. Now that I'm old, I just wanted to eat one strawberry, and my husband calls me a glutton. "Forget it. If you want to eat them so badly, go buy a pound and eat them. I've never seen such a gluttonous old woman." Arthur's face was dark, acting like he was doing me a favor by forgiving me. He was definitely waiting for me to soften up and apologize to him like I always did. But I didn't want to deal with him, and I didn't even want to take care of my grandson right now. I slowly went into the bedroom, dug out my ID and passport, and walked out the door. 02 Emma had gotten me a passport half a year ago, wanting me to visit her in Australia. But my daughter-in-law had just given birth, so I couldn't find the time. Hearing that I had finally decided to visit her, she was overjoyed. She had one of her colleagues teach me how to apply for a visa. The young girl was very nice. She helped me with everything and didn't mind my technological incompetence at all. "Auntie, it'll take a week at most. I'll let you know the second your application is approved." One week. Not long. On the way home, I felt like the air today was exceptionally sweet. Even the little dog in the elevator looked adorable. I had been terrified of dogs since I was a kid. But for some reason today, I suddenly gathered the courage to pet that little golden retriever. It wasn't as scary as I thought, and it even wagged its tail at me. This good mood lasted until I reached my front door. Before I even walked in, I heard my daughter-in-law, Chloe, throwing a fit. "Is he not your son? You don't even bother to look at him? He's so small, he gets hungry constantly! Is this whole family dead?!" I paused as I opened the door, then walked in pretending I hadn't heard anything. Seeing me, Mark, who had been keeping his head down like a scolded dog, looked like he had found the culprit. "Mom! Where did you run off to all afternoon!? The baby was crying his lungs out from hunger!" Arthur suddenly seemed to come alive too. He walked out of the bedroom with his hands behind his back, his face grim as he started nagging. "If you're going out, go out, but at least take the baby with you." "We don't know how to soothe him. My grandson cried all afternoon." "If you have to leave, can't you at least tell someone? Coming back this late, not making dinner... is the family supposed to starve..." Thinking about how I'd be leaving to see my daughter in a few days, I originally didn't want to fight with him. But I tried to hold it in, and I just couldn't. "If you don't know how to soothe him, learn." Emma said it best. No one is born knowing how to cook, do laundry, or soothe a baby. Arthur hadn't washed a single piece of clothing or a single bowl in his entire life. Starting today, I wasn't washing them either. If he doesn't know how to cook, he can learn. If he doesn't want to learn, he can starve. After all, we had just bickered that afternoon. Seeing that I was still angry, Arthur shut his mouth. But Mark had just been scolded by his wife, and he was genuinely angry. "Mom, what is wrong with you!? Are you trying to ruin this family?" "Chloe worked all day, and I finally get a day off. You're the only one sitting around doing nothing. If you don't cook, who will?" I didn't bother arguing with them. I walked straight into my room, leaving the three of them staring at each other in the living room. Through the door, I could hear them whispering. "Dad? What's going on?" "I don't know! She has no real responsibilities, but a massive temper. It's like she's got a black hole in her mouth. She didn't get to eat a single strawberry, and she completely lost her mind." "Ugh, all this over something so small? If I had known, I would have saved two for her. Besides, we can just buy some more tomorrow, right?" Chloe didn't say a word. She grabbed the baby and went back to her mother's house. I didn't cook that night. I didn't make breakfast the next morning, either. 03 I broke my own rule and slept in. Outside my room, it was pure chaos. Mark woke up late and was rushing to get to work. "Mom, where did you put my white dress shirt? I need it for a meeting today. Did you iron it?" "I didn't wash it." "Then what am I supposed to do?" Mark was dumbfounded. Arthur followed me around as I got out of bed, rushing me. "Fine, you didn't do the laundry. But my son is about to leave for work. Hurry up and make some noodles so he can eat before he goes. I'm supposed to meet Old Man Lee to go fishing." I simply pulled the covers over my head. "I don't feel well. Make it yourselves." There was silence outside the covers for a few seconds, followed by a cold scoff from Arthur. "If you won't cook, we'll eat out! I refuse to believe the earth stops turning without you. If you've got the guts, don't ever cook again! The whole family will just pay to eat at restaurants. Let's see how many days you can keep this up." I thought to myself, I'll keep it up for six days. By then, whether you want to cook or not, you'll have to. After they both left, I got out of bed and went to find my old friend, Mary. She was lucky. Her husband died early, and her neighborhood got bought out by developers twice. She was living a fantastic life now, going out to line dance in the park every single day. Hearing that I was going abroad, she dragged me to a high-end department store. "You're going abroad, you have to buy some nice clothes! Look at what you're wearing, it's washed until it's practically transparent. I've seen you wear these clothes for ten years." The full-length mirror next to us reflected the awkwardness at my temples and the frayed white edges of my cuffs. It gave me a moment of daze. Thirty-five years ago, I was a young girl who loved dressing up, too. When we got married, Arthur said he would let me be a young girl for the rest of my life. But the ravages of time meant that in the blink of an eye, I had become an old woman. Mary picked out quite a few things for me, saying she wanted to gift them to me. I politely declined again and again. I was used to being frugal, so I only picked one item. Even that one piece was fifty dollars, and it made me feel a little panicky. But then I thought about how the fishing rods Arthur left collecting dust at home cost way more than this piece of clothing. Thinking like that, I added one more item, bringing the total to a lucky hundred dollars, and bought them. When I got home, Mark hadn't finished work yet, but Arthur was home early. He leaned awkwardly on the sofa, giving me side-eye. My gaze quickly passed over him and landed on a plastic produce bag on the coffee table. Seeing me notice it, Arthur arrogantly lifted his chin. "Four dollars a pound, you really know how to cause trouble for me! Hurry up and eat them, then go make dinner!" The bag was open, revealing a dozen shriveled, sad-looking strawberries. They looked like the bad fruit that hadn't sold for days. They weren't washed. Arthur obviously didn't plan on eating bad fruit like this. He bought them for me. It had always been like this. The money-making husband ate the best, the kids ate the best, and whatever was left over or spoiling was for me. Back then, times were tough for everyone. Being a little deprived didn't feel like a big deal. But now, Arthur gets a pension every month, and the kids are grown. I didn't want to eat them anymore. Right in front of Arthur, I threw the bag of strawberries into the trash can. Before he could explode, I beat him to the punch. "They're rotten. Unedible." Then, taking advantage of his shock, I turned and walked into the kitchen. Before I came home, my daughter-in-law called and said her father was coming over tonight. He was a guest, after all. I couldn't let people go hungry. 04 Chloe was from a single-parent home. Her father had suffered a stroke before the New Year and was paralyzed on one side. He looked even worse now, arriving in a wheelchair. As soon as we sat down at the dinner table, Chloe brought up the idea of moving her father in. "Mom, my dad can't be left alone. I did the math. Hiring a live-in caretaker or nurse would cost at least three thousand a month. My salary combined with Mark's isn't even ten thousand. We just can't afford it. Instead of paying a caretaker, we should bring him here to live with us. The family can take care of him together. "We have that extra storage room anyway. We can clear it out for my dad. We can rent out his old apartment, and the rent can help cover living expenses." Before I could even speak, Arthur and Mark nodded in agreement. "Of course, of course. A son-in-law is basically half a son. It's our duty to be filial to our father-in-law." "Don't worry, Chloe. With all of us here, we'll definitely take great care of him." ... The braised ribs I had specifically prepared for our guest tasted like cardboard in my mouth. I looked up at Arthur and Mark amidst their chorus of agreement. "Are you two going to take care of him?" My son and daughter-in-law work every day, and Arthur is a man who wouldn't lift a finger to do a household chore. This massive burden would undoubtedly fall on my shoulders. The memory of serving my father-in-law and mother-in-law day and night for years involuntarily sprang to mind. Sick elderly people can't be hit or scolded, and they often cause a ruckus that gives you no peace. It was truly exhausting. I had finally seen my sick in-laws pass away, and now they wanted me to take care of a half-paralyzed patient. Just thinking about it was suffocating. My voice was very soft, but it instantly froze the atmosphere at the table to absolute zero. Arthur furrowed his brows. "What's your problem these past few days? You're giving attitude left and right. What exactly do you want? It's just taking care of a half-paralyzed patient. You're used to doing it. Why won't you do it now?" He put down his bowl. "Helen, you spent a hundred dollars this afternoon. What kind of clothes did you buy? Were they made of gold? I let that slide. I consider it paying for peace. But you're pushing your luck. If you keep this up, I won't give you another dime. "You're an old woman. You don't care about your son, you don't care about your grandson. Are you trying to leave this family, find some shady guy outside, and demand a divorce at your age?" The word "divorce" made me freeze. Right. Divorce. Why hadn't I thought of divorce before? Seeing me stay silent, Arthur paused and softened his tone. "I know you're upset. That's why I went out of my way to buy you strawberries this afternoon, didn't I? You should be grateful." Mark nodded vigorously in agreement. "Exactly! Mom! Am I not your biological son? Is it really that hard to help us out?" Mark looked exactly like his dad did when he was young. His face was full of dissatisfaction with me, as if I owed him something. "Do whatever you want. I'm not taking care of him anyway." As soon as the words left my mouth, the bowl in Arthur's hand came flying at me. It crashed to the floor, shattering loudly. "Fine! We don't need you! It's just taking care of a person. You seriously think this family will fall apart without you? If you don't want to do it, then leave! Mark, from now on, pretend you don't have a mother!!" I clutched my bleeding forehead. It took me a long time to recover from the shock. By the time I reacted, the entire table of people had already left the dining room. Mark was still muttering. "Mom, don't blame Dad. You're being completely unreasonable! Making a huge fuss over and over again about such a small thing." That night, I asked my daughter about getting a divorce. 05 The father and son were men of their word. As soon as the caretaker left, my father-in-law's luggage was moved in. At the same time, my daughter told me my expedited visa had been approved, the plane ticket was bought, and my flight was the morning after next. "Mom, you don't have to worry about a thing. As soon as you get off the plane, you'll see me." Maybe it was an unspoken understanding between mother and daughter, but I didn't mention this to the father and son, and Emma didn't either. On the first day her father-in-law moved in, Arthur really did step up to take care of him, just as he said he would. Except he gagged for half an hour while changing adult diapers, and threw up for another half hour while giving him a sponge bath. He had only been taking care of him for one day. That night, as soon as Mark got home, he started complaining. "My back is completely broken. Someone acts like she's blind, sitting on the sofa watching TV all day. Her conscience was eaten by a dog." I pretended not to hear him, silently tending to the potted plants on the balcony. The two Rieger begonias I planted were very temperamental. Too much or too little water and they'd die. It wouldn't be convenient to take them abroad, so I could only give them to Mary to look after. Arthur was passive-aggressive, and Mark was sarcastic towards his dad. Both of them looked at me eagerly, waiting for me to bow my head again, waiting for me to say what they wanted to hear. But I just turned around and went into my bedroom. I understood these two men too well. They were counting on me being soft-hearted, to take over the responsibility first, and then they'd wash their hands of it and leave the whole mess to me. But this time, they were going to have to suffer the consequences of their own actions. In our thirty-plus years together, Arthur had never seen me refuse to yield. He always assumed I wouldn't be that cruel. That night, Old Man Lee called to invite him fishing the next day. He agreed without a second thought. He intentionally put the call on speakerphone in front of me. Naturally, I heard the whole conversation. But since he didn't speak to me, I acted like I hadn't heard a thing. I left the house early the next morning, ahead of him. I just didn't expect that when I came back, my key wouldn't open the front door. It was a brand new lock. The old key didn't work. I called Mark. He hemmed and hawed for a long time on the other end of the line, finally squeezing out one sentence. "Mom, just apologize to Dad. I still have to work. I really shouldn't get involved in you guys' business." At this point, how could I not understand? Arthur did it on purpose. When I made it so he couldn't leave the house, he made it so I couldn't enter it. Through the security door, I heard Arthur's angry voice from inside. "Now you know how to come back? You like running outside so much, right?! Then you can stay out there forever!" I stood outside the door for a good while. I don't know why, but all the events of the past flashed through my mind like a slideshow, stopping at a specific moment. When we were young, Arthur and I had a similar scene. At that time, I had just given birth to Mark. I hadn't even finished my postpartum confinement when I discovered my husband flirting with the widow next door. That was the biggest fight I ever had with him. I packed up Mark, crying as I ran back to my parents' house. At that time, I really thought about getting a divorce. But I hadn't even stayed at my parents' house for a week when I heard my sister-in-law complaining to my brother. "We're already tight on money, and now we have two extra mouths to feed. What married woman runs back to her parents' house to freeload?" My mother also advised me: "Men are all like that. They have wandering eyes. As long as he knows to come home, he's a good man. For the sake of the two kids, just endure it and it'll pass. You're married. A married daughter is like spilled water. We can't interfere too much." I realized belatedly that I had suddenly become a person without a home. So, I could only quietly return. That time, Arthur also intentionally locked me out, only opening the door when Mark was crying so hard he could barely breathe. He had a "I knew it" expression on his face. Just like now, mocking me. "Now you know you need to come back?" Last night, my daughter asked me why I suddenly wanted a divorce. I didn't know how to answer her then. But now I had the answer. The things I didn't have the courage to do when I was young, I couldn't just not do them for the rest of my life. 06 Fortunately, I had sent my luggage to Mary's house early on. Crashing for one night wasn't a big deal. Early the next morning, Mary drove me to the airport. Before boarding, Mark sent me a message. [Mom, can you please stop being so stubborn? Is it really that hard to just call or text Dad and admit you were wrong? You're making it so awkward for me and my wife at home.] Arthur sent me a message too. [Helen! You've really grown a spine! I won't stand in your way. If you want a divorce, fine!] I replied with a single word, "Okay," then turned off my phone and swapped it for the new SIM card Emma's friend had helped me get. Mary smiled from the side. "You're really going through with the divorce?" I smiled too. "I still have a lot of days left to live. It's time for a change of lifestyle." 07 In his thirty-plus years of marriage, Arthur had never felt that life was so thoroughly unpleasant. He had just sent a message giving his wife an out, and then called his son. "I bet your mother will stay out for a few days, but then won't she have to come crawling back home?" "Dad, I'm with you on this. I tried talking to Mom too. It'll be fine. Just wait a few days, and then have Mom take over." But before he even finished the call... In the living room, his half-paralyzed father-in-law was yelling that he needed to pee and needed his adult diaper changed. In the bedroom, his grandson, who couldn't even speak clearly, was crying from hunger and needed a bottle. He was frantically trying to juggle the old and the young. In his rush, he accidentally dropped a glass baby bottle, spilling freshly mixed formula all over the floor. Seeing his grandson crying until he was breathless, he rushed to grab a mop to clean the floor, but slipped and banged his head against the foot of the bed. His vision went completely black for a moment. By the time he recovered, his grandson's face was red from crying. He had no choice but to rub his bruised arm, limp back to the kitchen, and mix another bottle of formula. After his grandson finished the bottle and fell sound asleep... Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly out the window. He didn't know why, but he suddenly thought of thirty years ago. Right after his wife, Helen, gave birth to Mark. Their older daughter, Emma, was only two. In the dead of winter, she accidentally fell into a cesspit. The stench was unbearable. He was so disgusted that he yelled at his wife to clean her up immediately. Back then, there were no water heaters. You had to boil water for a bath. By the time his wife had finally boiled the water and prepared to bathe their daughter, Emma's lips were blue from the cold. But right at that moment, two-month-old Mark got hungry and started crying loudly, just like the baby earlier. His wife was frantically trying to manage both. "Arthur, feed the baby some formula. There's rice cereal in the cupboard. I really can't free up my hands." What did he say back then? "You need my help for something this small? Did you forget how to eat? "Ugh, it stinks. Stay away from me!" And then? Then he didn't go feed the baby. He used working overtime as an excuse and went out to play poker. When he finally came back, his son was full and sleeping soundly, and his daughter was clean. Before this, Arthur had never considered how Helen managed to take care of both kids at the same time. He just thought that since she could do it, and insisted he help, she must just be looking for trouble. But in this moment, for some reason, he suddenly remembered this insignificant little incident from decades ago. Since that day, Helen had never asked him to take care of the kids again, sparing him the trouble for his entire life. Arthur used to think he was just incredibly lucky in this life. He never imagined that one day, his partner of over thirty years would go on strike! She wouldn't cook, wouldn't wash dishes, wouldn't help their son, and wouldn't even look after their grandson. It was like she was possessed, yelling about gender equality. What kind of nonsense was that? When have men and women ever been equal? Thinking of this, he remembered the message he had sent to Helen earlier. Forget it. They were an old married couple. Bickering all the time was pointless. Maybe he would just take a step back and apologize. They couldn't just stay in this deadlock forever. But when he picked up his phone, put on his reading glasses, and tried to type a softer-sounding message, he only saw a single, lonely word in response. "Okay." Okay to what? To a divorce?
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