Domestic Life

I woke up every morning to the smell of breakfast. Everyday mum would wake up hours before us to cook for us. By the time Johnny woke up, breakfast would be steaming on the table and mother would waiting for us to eat. I usually got to the table first and today was no different. Mother kindly smiled at my nest of bed hair and pulled a chair out for me to sit. Johnny then came running down the stairs, the scent of freshly cooked bacon stirring him from his slumber. And then, I could hear the heavy steps of my father pounding down the stairs. Blue robe wrapped tightly over his plaid pyjamas, he sat, not smiling.

"My coffee, now!" mother hustled into the adjacent kitchen to get father a cup of coffee. Johnny and I sat quietly, neither of us daring to move whilst father was angry. Once mother had retrieved his cup of coffee and father began to eat, we could all begin our breakfasts. Quickly and quietly we ate, too afraid of father's wrath to speak unless spoken too. Father finished first and went back upstairs to change into his suit for work and you could feel the room relax.

"Have a good day at school children, be good to your mother. Oh, and Cecily, George and Marge Hadford are coming over for tea this arvo," father waited expectantly for the parting kiss from mother and when he got it he left.

Once he was gone, Johnny and I were free to talk and play as we pleased, but for mother, there was much work to do. She had to get us off to school, wash the dishes from breakfast, do the laundry, prepare the house for guests, buy groceries for tonight's dinner, and then make it all. Was this the life I was destined to live when I grow up? The thought scared me, for now playing dolls and teasing my brother were the only thoughts that really concerned me, but the thought did linger from time to time.

Mother kissed us goodbye as we headed off to school, the weight of her daily tasks weighing heavy in her eyes. Yet, as we parted ways the stone mask that mother often wore returned as she set about her daily chores and we set off to school.

After school, Johnny and I walked ourselves home, mother and father were too busy to pick us up these days. Once home, the succulent smell of roast lamb wafted through the house setting my stomach into a fit of growls. Mother had impeccably cleaned every visible inch of the house, and likely every hidden nook and cranny as well. Father later arrived home with our dinner guests and the evening went perfectly. Mr Hadford was positively raving about father by the end of the night, and secretly I think father was only being nice to get something out of him because, by the end of the night, the gleam father got when he got his way was radiating from fathers usually cold eyes. Mother thanked the Hadfords for their time and began to clear the table when suddenly father stormed up to her.

"What was that pathetic excuse of a dinner party!" father said, shoving mother into the table and sending her sprawling on the ground, "I asked for better and a deserve no less than perfection!"

"Sorry Harry, I thought that you had a good time I..." in an instant mother was pressed up against the wall father screaming horrid obscenities into her face. Quickly I hurried Johnny up the stairs and into bed, hoping to avoid him being introduced to father's rages too early. Tucking him in, I smoothed the strands of barley hair that so closely resembled fathers and wondered how could anyone be so awful.

Tiptoeing to the banister to watch the argument unfolding, I noticed that mother now had some new bruises to add to the many others that marred her otherwise perfect skin. Father knew where to hit to make it seem as though nothing malevolent ever occurred within these walls.

"You thought that you could embarrass me in front of them to get back at me, didn't you?!?!" father raised his hand, positioning it ready to slap mother across the face. I expected to see mother defend herself, yet she simply sat there, eyes full of tears, seemingly accepting her horrific fate.

"I would never do anything of the sought Harry, I tried my hardest to make tonight perfect for you, what about it didn't you like?" mother remained calm, asking politely, not even raising her voice.

"WHAT DIDN'T I LIKE, THE AUDACITY YOU HAVE ASKING ME THAT!!!" he slapped her full force sending mother spiralling into the stand holding the vase her mother gave her for her wedding. As if in slow motion the beautiful antique vase toppled, every second falling towards the tiles. With an almighty crash, the vase shattered into a million pieces and with it, mother's heart. Father looked from the broken vase to mother's face and for a moment you could almost see a hint of pity, but only for a moment.

"Clean up that awful mess, what would the neighbour think if they saw this?" father let go of the front of mother's dress and began to storm over to the staircase. Immediately I rushed into my bedroom, silently closing the door behind me so father didn't notice that I had seen the whole ordeal. Once I could no longer hear his footsteps and I had waited long enough for him to be in bed I risked peeking out of my door. Mother was on her hands and knees sweeping up the shards of the vase, stifling the sobs, hiding the pain. And yet, I could see in her eyes that she had accepted this all.

That tomorrow she would wake up and do this all over again.

**There may be some errors with grammar and spelling, please feel free to give constructive criticism!!**