Travis supported her opinion and said gently, “My mom just worries about family values. I will handle the finances, so you can enjoy a comfortable life taking care of the house.”
I trusted him, and that decision slowly turned me into an unpaid housekeeper inside my own marriage. Every morning I woke at five thirty to prepare breakfast exactly the way each family member preferred.
Doris demanded fresh pressed green juice without pulp, my father in law liked eggs over easy with perfectly crisp bacon, and Travis would only drink coffee brewed from a particular roaster using a French press. After they finished eating they would leave the table without looking back while I cleaned the kitchen and began a long day of laundry, grocery shopping, and endless chores.
Two days after the wedding Doris insisted on controlling my debit card because she claimed young couples could not manage money responsibly. Every month she handed me a few hundred dollars for groceries while interrogating me about every receipt as if I were a criminal suspect.
“Why is this steak so expensive?” she would demand while examining the receipt closely. “Did the butcher cheat you because you look naive? And why did you buy organic strawberries? Are you secretly hiding money for yourself?”
My clothes gradually became old and worn because I never dared to buy anything new. One day I saw a simple dress online that cost one hundred dollars, and even after hesitating for days I did not dare purchase it. I knew Doris would explode with accusations about wasting Travis’s hard earned money.
When she did complain, Travis always repeated the same line calmly. “My mom means well, so please do not argue with her.”
Inside that house I had less status than Doris’s pampered poodle because at least the dog received affection when it misbehaved. No matter what I did the result was always wrong. If the food tasted salty she claimed I was trying to cause a heart attack, and if it tasted bland she accused me of being stingy with ingredients.
When guests visited I worked until my back hurt preparing meals, but once the guests left she would criticize everything about my manners and appearance.
Once I developed a fever over one hundred two degrees and could barely stand upright. Doris stood at the bedroom door and shouted impatiently, “Stop pretending you are dying because the family needs dinner.”