Something most needful – part one

Claire was a hardworking mum, and she knew it. But this holiday period had been the hardest for her, and she was finally reaching breaking point! Her children had been home now for the past one month due to the accursed COVID-19 pandemic and the dreaded virus still hadn't shown any signs of letting up. She was growing increasingly infuriated as the days trudged by, and her children were so not helping matters – they were the laziest bunch she'd ever known! She found it a constant source of shock that she'd actually given birth to them. Maybe if she was the man she'd be a bit suspicious, but as it stood, she was sure these were the children of her womb. She just wasn't sure where it had gone so terribly wrong.

Her first son was something else. The boy practically slept all day long! Whenever she sent him on errands he'd take forever to do them. Sometimes she even had to step in and do them herself because of the time he wasted getting to it. The boy was clocking twenty this month for God's sake! And yet he still walked around and did his things in such an agonizingly slow manner. Whenever they did the dishes together – because she knew it'd take him forever to be done if she left him to it on his own – he'd spend so much time scrubbing each dish, that she'd have to take that from him as well and tell him to handle the rinsing or drying. At least she was sure even he couldn't mess that up!

And her daughter? Don't even get her started on that young lady. The girl was always with her phone. Claire had stopped trying to shout at her to put it away because she never seemed to listen. Heck, the last time she'd told her to, her daughter had glared at her and told her in a stiff voice that she had important stuff she did on her phone. Tanya had glared! And at her no less! Where did sixteen year olds get away with glaring at their own sacrificial mother. She'd had half the mind to seize her smartphone that day, but she knew it'd not get to her. Nothing ever got to Tanya. Not the hour-long lectures from her father, not the screaming from her till she could feel rather than hear her voice get hoarse, not the spanking she'd stopped giving her when she turned thirteen because that one stopped having effect faster than the others. In fact, Claire had noticed that the only things that usually kept the surly teenager in check and from snapping out at those around her were the covert gestures she usually saw her son, Tom, throw at the girl. Claire really wasn't sure where the girl got her rudeness from. It had to be from her father's genes for sure. She'd never acted that way to her own mother at that age. She couldn't have even tried. Her father had been a military officer who hadn't taken any form of shenanigans from his kids and was a bit heavy on the spanking.

Still, he was a good man. Claire thought. If only her own husband would man up and do what he needed to do. Jim was a phony of a man who'd rather hide in his garage with the toys he dared call 'inventions' than mete out discipline to his two deserving children. She'd had to be both the father and mother in this family and Claire had had enough! She couldn't help but wonder daily what had pushed her to say yes to their father.

Maybe I'd been drunk. She thought while dressing up for work. She'd been ranting mentally in the bathroom all this while and was currently at her mirror, preparing to open her vanity case. Now you'd be wondering why Claire was headed for work when the rest of the world was under lock-down. Well, that was because her office was in charge of the proper production and distribution of ventilators to hospitals in need of it. They'd managed to snatch up the contract for the task – with her help, of course, and so were legally essential workers in their own way. She looked around her bedroom again, noting the numerous pillows, the thick duvet meticulously arranged on her Queen-sized bed, her beautiful teal curtains draping over the window, and the deep green rug at the center of the room, greatly complementing the curtains and egg-white colours of the interior, checking to see if everything was in place, just the way she liked it. Her bedroom was the symbol of perfection – boasting a large interior, a high-definition plasma screen of her own, so she didn't have to walk all the way downstairs, and a mini-fridge containing her favourite drinks and comfort food – which of course, no one knew about because she claimed to stick to a strict diet – and her absolute favourite, her walk-in closet! – and so was their five room duplex. Their house – artful designs and decorations meticulously chosen by herself, of course – was the envy of the neighbourhood. Polished, durable wooden floors made of one of the finest woods – she'd forgotten what they'd called it, though she was sure their furniture was made of mahogany– lined the interior of the whole house. The rich egg-white colour she'd had the house painted without and within was a beauty to behold. The house was classy, and she really liked the space it gave cos everyone could have their own room. It gave her the solitude she very much deserved from all the antagonists in her life.

Skillfully applying her makeup – making sure to use just the right shade and amount of lipstick, Claire sat up-right – back as straight as a ramrod – to practice her winning, confident smile. This was the smile that cinched a deal every time for her company. The smile that made opponents know that they were about to get served. This smile, was the smile of a woman who had achieved excellence and was drowning in it – it was the smile that made other women at the office feel like midgets, and the men feel unworthy of her presence. It was the smile that made you want to speak to the beautiful Mrs. Claire Brian, and still made you quake in your boots when you got to meet her. Pulling her sleek, black hair into a tight chignon – not a hair out of place due to years of practice – and arranging the collars of her chic power-suit, she stood up to fully peruse her appearance in her full length mirror. Leaning in a bit, she noted her looks as rich, alluring, brown eyes stared back at her – confident, but not cocky – and her eyebrows raised up slightly in self-approval. She pursed her lips, once more searching for any sign to show the makeup hadn't been meticulously handled. Claire might not be what people would call 'drop-dead gorgeous' but she knew how to work with what she had. As every woman should, she thought to herself. Satisfied with her result, she leaned up once more.

The very picture of seamless perfection. She thought to herself as she put on her two-inch work-heels and confidently walked out of her room towards the garage. She frowned upon noticing that her children's rooms were still closed and her husband had already left for work. Noticing something on their refrigerator, in her state-of-the-art kitchen, she walked towards it, her quick but sure strides indicating that she had no more time left to waste. It was almost 7:30am as it was. She sighed again, mentally wishing her daughter had been able to inherit her knack for walking so surely and stylishly. Unfortunately the girl hadn't, preferring to walk like she was afraid of the floor or something. Sighing inwardly for the umpteenth time that morning, she pushed the thought harshly aside and ripped off what she now saw had been a sticky note, from the fridge.

"Had to be at work earlier than usual today. Breakfast was great. Love, Jim.", was scribbled in an all-too-familiar handwriting.

Claire sighed again. Mentally noting to herself that she had to stop doing that. It made her feel old, and she was just in her early forties, dammit! She blithely wondered to herself what the women at church would think if they could hear her inner thoughts now. Not that she cared though. Those lazy busy-bodies were majorly housewives and school teachers. So she doubted they'd be able to relate with her and all, her being a proper working class mum and all.

She just gave them smiles where necessary and made sure to keep up with their monthly meetings or send a well-written excuse when she couldn't. The only woman she respected there was Mrs. O'Marley, but the elderly woman was always busy. Not that Claire blamed her though. Being a Doctor must have had to be very tasking for a woman clearly in her mid-fifties at least. That lady had a perfect family! Her children were all grown up, responsible and well-settled with families of their own. Whenever she saw them together – for they'd all decided to live around – they always had this otherworldly, serene glow about them. She just wished her family could be like that. If only her children and their father would just buckle up.

She sighed again, remembering the conversation she'd had with her younger sister some days before.

"Wow Claire. I never knew that's how bad things were for you back home. No offence and all, but Jim needs to man up and be more considerate to you. What you need big sis, is some 'you-time'. Your children need to learn to stop slacking-off!" she'd stated, righteously indignant.

Claire and her siblings and always been close. After their father had died while they were still quite young – Claire the oldest being just seventeen then – the four of them had all had to work really hard together to get to their current state. Their mum hadn't been of much help, her having low qualifications for getting a job and all that. Claire was just glad her father had thought ahead and created a trust fund for each of them for educational purposes. They'd managed it wisely, with Claire being at the helm of affairs, and now they were all successful in their own rights. Claire smiled fondly, thinking of them. Her only sister and two brothers were doing so well for themselves right now, living in the choicest parts of the country and abroad. She was proud of her family.

Snapping out of her reverie, she left the kitchen, and headed out the front door. It was going to be another long day.

X

Author's note: Hi there everyone! So, I'd love to know our thoughts about this new update. I plan on making it a short story of not more than three parts and I'm seriously interested in our thoughts about it.

How many of us can relate with Claire here?

Anyone with an inkling where this story might be leading us?

Whatever you'd like to share, I'd like to see.

Always remember, you are loved and greatly cared for!