Will she be gone by evening?
Did she really say that? Emily repeats, looking at her husband.
James nods and takes a sip from his mug. The tea is scalding, and he winces.
Yes, exactly. My sister insists that Mom should transfer the lease of her twobedroom flat to her and move out. Shes engaged to Harry, and the young couple need a place, you see? James says in a high, shrill tone, mimicking his sister.
Emily watches him, stunned. Its beyond anything reasonabledemanding a flat from ones parents? Completely absurd.
What did Mom say? Emily asks cautiously.
James shakes his head.
Theres no clear answer yet. But I know Mom, and I know how much she dotes on Sophie. So anythings possible.
Could a daughter really push her mother out of the only home she owns? Emily would never have imagined confronting her parents like that. She refused to ask them for a deposit, saved every penny herself, bought a flat and cleared the mortgage before she even married. Shes proud of that; its her house, her property.
Listen, James continues, staring off, Mom sold the cottage last year to pay for Sophie’s tuition. And what happened? She dropped out in her second year. Turns out university does involve actual studying, believe it or not.
Emily snorts.
Your sister never was the studious type.
James falls silent. Emily sees his shoulders tensed, his fingers clenched around the mug. What could she say? What could she advise? Family is always messy.
Days turn into weeks. James calls his mother a few times, but each conversation is brief and strained. Emily stays out of it, knowing this is his pain to bear.
One weekend they decide to visit Jamess mother.
James unlocks the front door with his key, and Emily freezes in the hallway. The flat is a maze of boxes, bags, rolledup blanketsstuff piled up against walls, on the sofa, on the table. The chaos of a move hangs in the air.
Mom? James calls as he steps in.
Margaret steps out of the bedroom, her face sallow, dark circles under her eyes. Emily has never seen Jamess mother look so exhausted.
James, Emily, come in, Margaret says softly.
James scans the room and asks straight away, Are you giving the flat to Sophie?
Margaret sighs, sits down on the edge of the sofa, and pushes a dishbox aside.
Itll be better, love. The young couple need their own place. Harrys a good lad, he works. I can manage without it.
Emily stands to the side, her stomach knotting. How can she hand over the only flat? Where will Margaret go?
And where will you live? James asks hoarsely.
Ill rent a room. My pension isnt much, but itll cover me. Dont worry about me.
Emily watches James turn ashen, his hands trembling, but she says nothing. This isnt her battle.
Two months later Margaret lives in a modest rented flat in a different neighbourhood. James often drives over with groceries, medicine, helps with chores. Emily doesnt object; she understands her husbands anguish.
One evening James returns home, dejected and quiet. He collapses at the kitchen table, staring at nothing.
Whats wrong? Emily asks, sitting opposite him.
James lifts his eyes slowly.
Mom cant make ends meet. My pension barely covers the rent, and shes scraping by.
Emily frowns.
Then she should move back into her flat.
The flats already in Sophies name, and she refuses to let Mom back in. She says theyre planning renovations and Mom would get in the way.
Emily knows where this is heading. As if reading her thoughts, James says, We should bring Mom to live with us. We have a twobedroom flat; therell be enough space.
Her own twobedroom flather, not Sophies. The words echo in Emilys mind, but she stays silent, letting James persuade himself while her gut rebels. What could she say? To refuse a mother that her own daughter has driven out would feel cruel.
Four days later Margaret moves in with them. On the first day shes like a gentle sunshinesoft, apologetic, promising not to cause any trouble. Emily tells herself everything will be fine; theyve never quarreled with her before. What could they start with?
A week passes and things begin to shift.
First, Emilys favourite mug disappears.
Margaret, have you seen my blue mug with the flowers? Emily asks.
Margaret flutters.
Oh dear, Im so sorry. I knocked it over while washing dishes. Ill buy you a new one, I promise.
Emily nods. It happens.
The next day the expensive facial cream Emily bought from a boutique is gone.
Margaret, have you seen my cream?
Ah, that one, Margaret says, holding up an empty jar. I used it on my feet because the air is so dry. Its a good cream, really.
Emily clenches her teeth, reminding herself she can replace it.
The final straw is the meat. Emily had bought a pricey cut of beef to make steaks for dinner. When she returns from work, she finds a pan on the stove with greasy patties. The mince inside contains more breadcrumbs than meat.
Margaret, Emily says calmly, this is highquality beef. Its not for burgers.
Margaret turns from the stove.
I always do it this way. The burgers turned out great, why worry?
James, sitting in the living room, pretends not to hear.
Over the next few weeks Margaret imposes her routines. Breakfast becomes only porridge and boiled eggs. Once a week she schedules a deep clean, always on Saturday at eight oclock. Sleeping after nine is forbidden, even on weekends.
Emily walks around the house, barely containing her fury. James tries to calm her, asks her to be patient, promises to talk to Margaret, but nothing changes.
At dinner Emily spreads cottage cheese on a slice of bread and tops it with a tomato slice. Shes tired after work and doesnt want to cook.
You have no taste, Emily, Margaret says, grimacing. Youre eating nonsense.
Emily lifts her head slowly.
Im fine with what I have.
Youre ruining my sons habits, Margaret snaps. James watches you and thinks its okay to be lazy, to leave dishes unwashed, to skip ironing. I raised him to be tidy and orderly. Youre tearing up all my work.
Emilys patience finally snaps.
Ive endured enough, she says coldly. I tried to respect your age, stayed silent while you broke my things, used my cosmetics, ruined my food. Thats it. If things are this bad, go back to the flat you gave to your daughter. Dont stay in the house I bought with my own money.
Emily! James jumps up. What are you saying?
What I think! Emily turns to him. I have my own rules, too. First ruleyour mother will not live in my house!
Margaret turns pale.
James! Do you hear what your wife is saying? Stop her!
Mom, Emily, lets calm down, James pleads.
No! Emily looks at Margaret. She can pack up and leave. I dont care where.
We cant kick my mother out! James raises his voice. Do you understand what youre saying?
Emily laughs, a harsh, bitter sound.
You cant, but I can. By evening, she wont be here.
James straightens, his face hard as stone.
If she leaves, Im leaving too.
Emily fixes James with a long stare.
Oh, weve come to ultimatums now? You forgot you promised to keep your mother under control. You asked me to be patient, and now you set conditions? Well played, James.
Margaret sobs and rushes down the hallway. James stands in the kitchen, stunned.
They begin to pack slowly, in silence. Emily doesnt help; she sits at the kitchen table looking out the window, feeling a hollow, cold calm.
An hour later James and Margaret emerge into the hallway, surrounded by suitcases and bags. James opens the front door, letting his mother step out first, then turns to Emily.
Emily, lets
Emily cuts him off.
If you still dont get that a mother loves her daughter and only uses you, we should part ways now before she completely infiltrates our lives.
She walks to the door and slams it shut in Jamess face.
Taking Margaret in was a mistake, but now Emily sees the truth: James cant stand up to his mother, and their marriage has no future. The divorce proceeds quietly. They have no children or shared assets. James looks at her with sorrowful eyes, begging for forgiveness, promising never to involve his mother again. Emily, however, is done giving second chances.
