The Price of A Decade: My Unpaid Labor

Synopsis

My hands were slick with grease from peeling shrimp for the shrimp cocktail platter when my brother-in-law, Harry Walker, slid the property transfer agreement across the table toward me. "Sign it, Lily. Lucas starts kindergarten in the fall, and we need that house in his name for the school district. It's not like you and Michael are using it." A strange stillness settled over the private dining room. My mother-in-law, Fiona Walker, sat at the head of the table with her hands wrapped around a warm dinner roll, taking her time as she blew across the surface of her coffee. "We're family," she said, her voice smooth as butter. "Why draw lines in the sand? You've been a part of this family for ten years now. What's yours is ours, right?" I looked over at my husband, Michael Walker. After ten years of marriage, this was the first time I stared at him with everyone watching. He didn't look at me. He tossed back the rest of his beer like it was medicine, his jaw tight with embarrassment. "It's my mom's birthday," he muttered under his breath. "Don't make a scene. Sign the paper, and we'll talk about it at home." I laughed. I barely recognized that laugh. I wiped the shrimp oil off my hand with a napkin, took the pen, flipped to the last page, and asked softly, "Michael, are you sure you want me to sign this right now?" Harry leaned back in his chair, folding his arms with the smug satisfaction of a man who had already won. "Look, Lily, you've had a roof over your head and food on the table for a decade, courtesy of my brother. "A signature doesn't change your life. Besides, when a woman marries into a family, her priorities ought to shift. That's how it works." That one sentence hung in the air like smoke, and suddenly I could feel the weight of ten invisible years pressing down on the white tablecloth between us. They didn't see me at five in the morning, scrubbing pots while the coffee maker was still gurgling, my knuckles cracked and red in the dead of January. They didn't see the three years I spent turning John Walker, my father-in-law, in his bed every two hours after his stroke, my back so wrecked I went to sleep with ice packs strapped to my spine. They didn't see me taking Harry's kid at a moment's notice, packing his lunches, checking his homework, and sitting through parent-teacher conferences. They didn't see any of that. All they saw was a woman who didn't clock in anywhere. A woman who was home all day. A woman whose life, apparently, was generously subsidized by the Walker family's bottomless goodwill. Michael finally looked up, clearly annoyed. "Lily, let's get this done." "Fine," I said, my voice low and steady. "I'll sign it. But before I do, I have one condition." Fiona's brow furrowed. "And what condition is that?" "First," I said, looking straight at everyone at the table, "I want an itemized bill for the last ten years of unpaid labor. Let's settle that."