Susan didn’t even let Eleanor take off her coat. From the doorway she unloaded a litany of complaints: she’d been at their place for hours and her grown son was “still sitting there starving.”
Tired and confused, Eleanor pointed out there was a pot of soup in the fridge. Susan erupted, saying soup was unsuitable for an evening meal and ordered Eleanor to get back in the kitchen. She also demanded that Eleanor iron Mike’s shirts right away for a meeting he supposedly had at work.
On another day Eleanor might have stayed quiet to avoid a scene. But sheer fatigue pushed her past the breaking point. The choice was between submitting or getting some rest. Her nerves gave out, and she said exactly what she’d been holding back.
She pointed out that Mike—who spent most days at home—could feed himself. If Susan was going to be visiting so often, she could at least bring a dish for her son. The words hung in the air; Susan stared at her as if Eleanor had lost her mind.
The idea that a small-town wife might refuse to play servant seemed unthinkable to them. In their world, Eleanor owed them for being “rescued” into a nice two-bedroom apartment. Susan lectured her about social position and told her to be thankful for being taken out of the sticks. That was the last straw.
Eleanor snapped a sarcastic line about being “eternally grateful” and walked to the bedroom. She grabbed a travel bag and began throwing clothes in. All she really wanted was to keep standing and not pass out.
Mike appeared in the doorway and rudely asked what she was doing. Eleanor answered coolly that she was leaving and that he could rely on his mother for laundry, cooking and taking care of her grown son.
She told them she wouldn’t tolerate the humiliation any longer and kept packing. While Mike blinked in disbelief, Susan chimed in with the predictable dramatics…
