Mother, Im not hiring you as a servant, I heard Alex say into the phone, his tone sharp.
Mom, weve got a problem. The landlord wants us out of the flat immediately. Clear as much space as you can in my room. Well be coming over with the whole family today, his mother, Margaret, replied, startled by the earlymorning call.
Honestly, its absurd, Margaret muttered. Ive read that during winter you cant be evicted from a rented flat without a proper notice, even if theres no written lease. They should at least give us time to find a new place.
Exactly, they wont give us any time, Alex snapped. Natalie argued with the landlady yesterday, and shes furious now.
Now I see the whole picture, Margaret said dryly. Natalie needs to keep her tongue in check and treat people with a little respect.
Mom, please dont start! Alex warned, his mood already sour. Just clear the room, well bring our stuff this evening. He hung up, leaving Margaret holding the receiver, hearing a faint clicking sound. She sank onto the floor, confused and exhausted.
Yesterday at work had been a nightmare: two new hires arrived, her boss demanded she train them, and she had to finish two reports for senior management while juggling a mountain of other tasks. By evening she trudged home, feeling more like she had crawled than walked.
She had big plans for the weekend. Saturday was meant for a liein and a stroll in the park; Sunday, a coffee date with her friend and some windowshopping. Now everything was upended.
How could a tiny twobedroom flat accommodate four people herself, her son, his wife Natalie, and her sevenyearold grandson Oliver? Her carefully laidout weekend plans fell apart. First she had to clear Alexs old room, shuffle a few pieces of furniture, then rush to the supermarket and still manage to cook dinner before nightfall.
The prospect didnt lift Margarets spirits. She didnt dislike her son or grandson, but her relationship with Natalie was strained at best. She always tried to be courteous to avoid upsetting Alex, yet petty arguments kept flaring.
Despite the ruined plans and sour mood, Margaret tackled the cleaning, then headed to the shop and prepared a modest supper.
By evening everything was ready. When Alex arrived with his family the flat buzzed with noise and laughter. Margaret slipped back to her own room early. Alex and Natalie lingered at the table while Oliver watched cartoons.
Goodnight, everyone. Youll clear the table yourselves, right, Nat? Margaret called from the kitchen.
Sure, Natalie murmured without looking up from her phone.
Margaret heard the muffled chuckles and footfalls through the halfclosed door, but chose to ignore them, assuming the visit would be brief. She had repeatedly urged Natalie to learn compromise and respect, yet Natalie either brushed her off or escalated the drama.
The next morning the alarm jolted Margaret awake. She stepped into the kitchen to a scene of scattered tea cups, candy wrappers, and halfeaten apple cores. The sink was piled with unwashed dishes another unpleasant surprise.
Mom, whats for breakfast? Alex called, still halfasleep, as Margaret hurried to clean up the remnants of last nights dinner.
Make some toast and tea. Ill just have coffee, she replied.
Mom, Im stuck in traffic. One piece of toast wont fill me.
Then the blame falls on the wife. She should stop lounging in the bathroom for forty minutes and make you breakfast. I didnt sign up to be a housekeeper, yet here I am washing dishes because you didnt tidy up yesterday.
At that moment Natalie appeared, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
Just as I thought, Margaret, its half eight and youre already grumbling.
Im not grumbling, Natalie, Im talking to Alex. Could you at least make him breakfast? I cant keep washing dishes or cooking for you both. Please look after yourselves.
Mmhm, Natalie muttered, still glued to her phone.
The following five days stretched on with a tense undercurrent. Margaret held her peace, hoping Alex would resolve the housing issue within a week so she could return to a normal life.
Friday night brought no sign of a move. Margaret guessed Alex was trying to keep her out of his affairs. Saturday morning found the couple asleep like the dead. By lunch Alex emerged from his room, and it became clear no relocation was planned.
On Sunday Margaret asked directly, Alex, have you found a flat?
Weve been looking. Everythings either too pricey or too far. Well probably stay here another week.
Fine, stay then, she replied, resigned. She couldnt turn her son and his family out onto the street, so she endured another week of strain.
Weeks passed, and the relatives didnt move. Instead, they seemed to settle in more comfortably, showing little interest in hunting for a new place. Natalie never helped with chores; she left dirty dishes in the sink and crashed on the sofa. She tossed laundry into a basket, leaving Margaret to spend the whole weekend washing, ironing, cooking, and cleaning.
Natalie, Im heading to the shop; could you mop the floor? Margaret asked.
Im the lady of the house, Margaret. Ill do something else later maybe tomorrow.
Margaret, youre the one who pays the mortgage, but you also live here, Margaret replied calmly.
Whats your problem? I have a headache! Natalie shouted.
This is absurd! Margaret snapped.
And you caused it! Natalie retorted.
Margaret didnt press further. She bought groceries, gave the flat a thorough wipe-down, brewed a cup of tea, and tried to relax.
A sudden, relentless thumping jolted her awake Oliver was bouncing a ball inside.
Oliver, you need to play outside, not in the flat. Its evening and the neighbours can hear, Margaret warned.
Grandma, I want to play now. Mum and Dad wont take me out, he replied, still dribbling the ball.
Stop, Margaret ordered.
Alex stepped out of his room.
Alex, tell Oliver to stop.
Before Alex could answer, Natalie interjected.
Youre harassing us from the morning! Now youre yelling at the child. What do you want, to kick us out?
Natalie, if you wont respect my house rules, perhaps you should find somewhere else to live, Margaret said.
A tense silence fell.
Fine! Youre evicting us! And by the way, Im pregnant, so I cant be stressed! Natalie shrieked, rushing to her bedroom.
Mom, she really is pregnant and youre shouting Alex muttered.
First I didnt know, then Im not asking for miracles. I just want my own home, Margaret replied.
That evening Natalie packed a suitcase, announced she and Oliver would move to the nearby town to stay with her parents while Alex searched for a flat.
Margaret felt a wave of anxiety. She tried to persuade Natalie, but the daughterinlaw was firm, wiping away theatrical tears and refusing all offers.
Three days later Alex secured a new flat and moved his family out. Margaret gave the old place a deep clean, took a week off, and life began to settle back into its familiar rhythm. Yet the sting of the recent clash lingered.
Communication with Alex grew thin; she learned about her new granddaughter only through mutual friends. It was awkward, the family drama casting a shadow over what should have been joyous news.
Margaret now lives for herself. Twice a year she retreats to a spa town, sends birthday money to her grandchildren, and receives a quick birthday call from Alex. No holiday resort or personal space can replace the warmth of close family ties, but a person can only share happiness when they are truly content themselves. She has accepted her choice, remains open to reconnecting with her grandchildren, and leaves the decision of contact entirely to Natalie. In the end, she knows that peace of mind comes from within, and that making space for oneself is the first step toward any lasting harmony.
