Once youre alone, youll remember me.
«Honestly, is it so hard to spare an extra bowl of soup for me and your grandson? I dont understand!»
«Yes, Christine. It is hard. While you were gone, everything changed,» replied Margaret, not even letting her daughter cross the threshold. «Remind mewasnt it you who threw me out of your home and your life? So why do you think you deserve anything now?»
Christine rolled her eyes like a child being scolded for poor manners. Then again, she was behaving like one. «Everyone owes me»hardly the stance of a grown woman.
«Mum, are you serious? I was pregnant then! Hormones, nerves… I dont even remember half of what I said!»
«But I do. Every word. That you hated me, that I had no heart, that I wanted your child dead… And thats the polite version. If Im so terrible, why come crawling back now?»
«Oh, for goodness sake, Mum! Youre the adult hereyou shouldve understood and met me halfway. Youve been through childbirth; you know how moods swing. It wasnt personal!»
Even now, Christine spun it as Margarets fault. As if she shouldve smiled, yielded, danced attendance on her. But Margaret had had enough.
«I understood you perfectly,» she said slowly, folding her arms. «But I havent forgiven. I can lend you money, Christine. A little. But I wont let you back in.»
She wasnt just speaking of the flat. She couldnt let Christine back into her life. Because she knewher daughter would push, demand, and eventually ruin everything Margaret had rebuilt.
«A littlehow much?»
«Three thousand pounds. Enough to get back on your feet.»
«That wont last a month! Fine for meI can tighten my belt. But how can you do this to your grandson?» Christine pressed, launching another attack.
Margaret refused to engage further.
«When people need help, theyre grateful for anything. If its not enough, manage on your own.»
With that, she shut the door.
«Fine! I will! But remember thismen come and go, but its your children wholl bring you a glass of water in your old age. And youll be left without even that. Alonethen youll remember me,» Christine spat through the door.
Footsteps faded down the hall. Margaret sighed, leaning against the wall, biting her lip to keep from crying. It hurt unbearably, but the rift had been there for years.
…Christine had always been spoiled. Grandparents rushed to buy toys at her whim, her father indulged her endlessly. If Margaret refused something, Christine ran to himand he always gave in.
Her parents argued constantly over it. Edward was a loving husband and father but blind to boundaries.
«Ed, why did you give her money for those concert tickets? You shouldve asked me!» Margaret protested, hands on hips. «I told her nonot about the money, but because I needed her to help your mother in the garden. And you know what she said? ‘If you two care, you clean up.'»
Edward would wince, knowing his daughter often went too far. But hed just wave it off.
«Come now, love. Remember what we were like at her age. Let me spoil her while I can. Soon enough, shell fly the nest.»
Those words proved prophetic.
Edward passed when Christine was fourteen. After that, things fell apart. Christine had always been difficult, but now she blamed Margaret for everythingcolds, breakups, even exam results.
«All my friends got tutors. I had to manage alone. No wonder my marks were rubbish,» shed grumble.
Margaret had never expected a scholarship. Shed saved from their joint funds.
«Why bother with university?» a friend once asked. «Christines clever, but not that clever. What if she drops out in year three? All that money wasted.»
«She wants it. And its not just for herits for Edward. Hed never forgive me if I sent her into the world with nothing.»
Margaret worked two jobs to support her daughter. Colleagues called her a hero. But she was just terrified of being left with no one.
In her second year, Christine announced shed move in with a «friend»whose name turned out to be Ian. A year later, she was pregnant.
«Mum, guess what? Were having a baby!» she gushed.
Margarets knees buckled.
«Christine… Neither of you has a job. Where will you live? What will you live on?»
«Well, benefits, Ians parents, you… Ian can pick up odd jobs,» Christine said breezily.
Margaret didnt like her place in that plan. Shed hoped supporting Christine through university would be the end of it. Now, she saw no end in sight.
«Oh, Mumtuitions due soon. Can you cover it?»
«Tuition? With a newborn? Take a gap year or sort out the baby. This isnt the time.»
What followed was uglyaccusations about inheritance, claims Margaret wanted to be rid of her grandchild. Finally, Christine called her a monster and shoved her out.
Margaret waited for her to cool off. But the next day, she found herself blocked everywhere. She knew Christines address, couldve gonebut she was done begging.
Losing Christine felt like losing her purpose. But nature abhors a vacuum.
After Christine left, Margaret rebuilt her life. She joined a gym, met Richarda widower with a grown son, Anthony, his wife Marie, and their little boy, Oliver. They welcomed her warmly, especially Marie, who saw her as a friend, not a mother-in-law.
Oliver was special. Margaret doted on himtoys, homemade treats, trips to the park. At first, Marie only asked her to babysit in emergencies. Soon, Oliver asked to visit himself.
«Nana, can we feed the pigeons today?» hed say, and her heart would glow. Shed forgotten pure, uncalculated love.
Life had colour again. Then, two years later, Christine reappeared.
Ian had left, deciding fatherhood wasnt for him. Now Christine needed somewhere to go. But Margaret had drawn her lineespecially when her daughter returned not to apologise, but to demand.
«Once youre alone, youll remember me» echoed in her mind. It ached, like tearing flesh. But Margaret had survived it once. Shed survive again.
Her phone chimedRichard, asking what to pick up for dinner, suggesting a quiet evening. Then Marie, with a photo of three clumsily decorated gingerbread men.
«Oliver made these at nursery. One for me, one for Dadand one for you. Can we visit tonight?»
Margaret smiled, warmth flooding her. Which to choosean evening with Richard or a house full of family?
It didnt matter. She loved both. What mattered was this: once, shed feared loneliness so much shed endure anything to be needed. Now she knewbeing needed wasnt the same as being loved.
No, she wasnt alone. And perhaps she never would be again.
