“Weekend Work: No Rest at the In-Laws”
Timothy had always appreciated the concept of family — that warm, fuzzy idea that no matter where you go, there’s a group of people who accept and love you unconditionally. However, his reality seemed to skew from this ideal, especially when it involved his in-laws, William and Alexa.
It was another Friday evening, and Timothy was just wrapping up a grueling week at his tech job in downtown Chicago. The city was bustling with people ready to dive into the weekend’s embrace, but Timothy’s heart sank as he remembered the standing invitation from his in-laws to visit them in their suburban home.
“Come over, Tim! We’d love to see you and Aria this weekend,” Alexa had chirped over the phone earlier that week. Her voice was always laced with a cheer that felt a bit too contrived. Timothy knew that “seeing” him meant putting him to work under the pretense of “helping out.”
Aria, Timothy’s wife and the beloved daughter of William and Alexa, seemed oblivious to her parents’ imposition on Timothy. “It’s just a few small things, Tim. Dad needs help with the yard, and Mom wants to reorganize the attic. It won’t take long,” she’d say, her voice a soothing balm that almost made him look forward to the tasks.
As they drove to her parents’ house that Saturday morning, the sky was a clear blue, and Aria chatted animatedly about her week. Timothy nodded and smiled, but his mind was on the list of chores that likely awaited him.
Upon arrival, William clapped Timothy on the back with a vigor that belied his age. “Good to see you, son! I’ve got a little project in the backyard. Thought you might help me out.”
The “little project” turned out to be a complete overhaul of the garden. Hours slipped by as Timothy found himself digging up old plants, laying down new soil, and installing a small fountain that Alexa had recently purchased but had no idea how to set up.
Lunchtime provided a brief respite, but as soon as they finished their sandwiches, Alexa piped up, “Timothy, would you mind helping me with the attic after lunch? There are some boxes I just can’t lift on my own.”
The attic was stifling, and dust motes danced lazily in the shafts of light piercing through the small windows. Box after box, Timothy lifted and shifted, his back aching and sweat staining his shirt.
By late afternoon, Timothy was exhausted. He looked forward to sitting down with a cold beer and maybe watching a game on TV. But as he descended the attic stairs, hopeful for a break, William called out, “Just in time, Tim! I need a hand with fixing the fence.”
Dinner was a quiet affair for Timothy, his body sore and his spirit dampened. Aria and her parents laughed and reminisced over old times, while Timothy poked at his food, feeling more like hired help than a family member.
As they drove home that night, Aria, sensing his silence, squeezed his hand. “Thanks for all your help today, babe. You know they love having us over.”
Timothy forced a smile, but inside, he felt a growing resentment. He loved Aria, but the weekend work at her parents’ was becoming a burden he dreaded. The drive back was quiet, the city lights blurring past as Timothy pondered how many more weekends he’d sacrifice on the altar of familial obligation.
The next weekend, when the inevitable call from Alexa came, Timothy handed the phone to Aria and walked out to the balcony. He needed a break, even if it meant confronting the uncomfortable truths about family, love, and personal boundaries.