My mother-in-law humiliated me on the Internet while I was 39 °C of fever
I was burning with 39°C of fever when my mother-in-law broke into my bedroom, took a picture of me and publicly humiliated me on the Internet. But what my husband did afterwards bothered me even more.
The kitchen was still dark that Monday morning when I poured my first cup of coffee. The refrigerator buzzed gently and Nathan’s leisurely breathing came from the bedroom at the end of the hallway.
Six in the morning had always been my time.
Easy. Organized. Mine.
Before sunlight reached the kitchen window, he had already prepared Nathan’s lunch, folded a batch of dryer towels and answered three job emails.
I didn’t do it to show off.
It was simply the routine I had built during eight years of marriage, in a small house I really loved.
Nathan appeared in the kitchen around half past six, with his hair completely disheveled, and kissed me on the crown.
“You’ve already done half a day,” he murmured.
“Someone has to,” I replied, bringing his lunch closer.
He smiled while drinking his coffee.
“Mom would say you’re bragging.
I rolled my eyes, although the joke touched a more sensitive point than I wanted to admit.
Patricia, my mother-in-law, had a habit of appearing unannounced.
Every time he came, he passed a finger over the frame of a picture, lifted him up into the light and emitted a small sound.
Just that.
A simple “mmm”.
Somehow, that sound was worse than a direct criticism.
I cared more about his approval than I liked to recognize.
In Thanksgiving the previous year, I had tried a bite of my roast, carefully left the fork on the table and asked if I had used sea salt or “the normal one.”
“The normal one, Patricia,” I replied.
“Mmm. That explains it.
Nathan squeezed my knee under the table, but he didn’t argue with her.
I rarely did.
He once told me that he had stopped trying to correct his mother around the age of twelve.
I kept telling myself that his comments didn’t matter.
However, every time Patricia announced a visit, she cleaned twice as much as usual.
There was something about her that I always thought was strange.
In eight years, he had never invited us to his home.
Not once.
One afternoon I offered to take their shopping bags in. Patricia immediately took my bag off and told me to wait in the car.
As he walked away, I noticed a sour smell in his coat and a yellow spot that he quickly tried to cover with his hand.
A few days later, I mentioned it to Nathan.
“It’s very weird,” I said.
What?
“May your mother never invite us to her house. He always comes here, checks my skirting boards, but he never lets us into his.
Nathan paused while one of the shoes was tied.
“She likes to be the guest,” she finally replied. He likes to keep control.
“Has it always been that way?”
“Yes. When I was a kid, I cleaned only the room before visitors arrived and closed all the other doors.
“Then you inherited family hospitality.
“Apparently.
Then he studied my face.
“Are you okay?” You look weird.
I hadn’t slept much that night.
Around midnight I started to cough. In the morning, every breath hurt and the chills roamed my whole body.
“I’m fine.
Nathan got up and crossed the kitchen.
Claire.
“I’m fine.
I had already had the temperature twice during the night.
The last reading was 39 °C.
“You’re going to stay in bed today,” he said.
I’ll be fine. Go to work.
Claire, you’re shaking. Sit down.
I sat down, mainly because the room had started to go around.
“I’m going to call work,” he said. I’ll stay with you.
“No. Go to work. I’ll sleep and it’ll pass me.
Claire.
Nathan, go. I promise I’ll rest.
He hesitated before kissing my forehead and leaving.
At eleven, my fever was still around 39 °C.
Nathan had called twice to make sure that I hadn’t gotten out of bed and finally got to sleep.
He was between dreams when, at 11:30, the bedroom door was suddenly opened so hard that he hit the wall.
Patricia was there, holding our emergency key between two fingers as if she had just won something.
“IT’S ALMOST NOON!” he announced. And here you are, still in bed like a princess.
I tried to join.
My arms were shaking.
Patrick, I’m sick.
He went even deeper into the room.
We all got sick, Claire. In my time we woke up. We took care of our husbands.
I have 39 °C of fever.
He looked at the handkerchiefs, the medicines and the water that were by the bed.
Nathan is working while you’re lying here. Get up and make him a decent dinner.
I can’t even stand up.
Then Patricia pulled out her phone.
When he pointed the camera at me, I felt my stomach shrink.
Patrick, please don’t.
“Smile.
Patrick, no. I beg you.
He lowered the phone with a little smile of satisfaction.
Maybe a little shame will motivate you. Nathan deserves better than this.
Then he left.
A few moments later I heard the front door closed.
Ten minutes later, my phone vibrated.
My hands were shaking when I picked it up.
There I was.
He had messy hair, swollen eyes, and mouth slightly open while he was sleeping.
