Emily Clarke introduced me to her mother, and the woman handed me a list of thirty duties.
Emily, have you lost your mind? This is pure absurdity!
Nothing absurd, Charlotte. Im simply saying what I think.
But you cant just tell the boss their decisions are idiotic!
Emily sank back in her swivel chair, smirking. At thirtyfive shed learned not to stay quiet when something went wrong. Charlotte, her colleague and friend, fidgeted with her pen, glancing at the office door.
Emily, if we keep quiet theyll stop treating us like people. The new project is a disaster and Ive said so.
So what now?
Nothing. Let them think what they like. My conscience is clear.
Charlotte shook her head and returned to her computer. Emily pulled out her phonethree missed calls from James. She smiled. James had entered her life six months ago, and everything had changed. After a failed marriage that ended five years earlier, she never expected to fall in love again. But James was differentattentive, caring, reliable.
She rang him back.
Hey, sunshine. Hows it going?
Fine. Just had another row with the boss.
Youre incorrigible, he said, his voice warm. Listen, I need to have a serious chat.
Whats up?
Nothing serious, really. Mum wants to meet you. Were going to her place this weekend.
Emily froze. Meeting the mother was a big step. James had spoken of her often. Margaret Finch, sixtyeight, a widow, lived alone in a cottage outside town. By Jamess description she was strict but fair.
Are you sure? Isnt it a bit early?
Emily, weve been together half a year. Its time. Mum keeps asking when Ill introduce her to the woman I keep talking about.
Alright, Emily sighed. Saturday?
Yes. Ill pick you up at ten. Dont worry, everything will be fine.
The rest of the week was a whirlwind of preparation. Emily bought a modest darkblue dress, kneelength, and a gifta box of fine chocolates and a bouquet of chrysanthemums, which James said Mum adored.
On Friday evening she called Charlotte.
Guess what? Im meeting his mother tomorrow.
Oh, thats serious! Are you nervous?
Terrified. What if she doesnt like me?
Come off it, youre brilliant. What could she possibly dislike?
James says shes strict. What if she decides Im not good enough for her son?
Emily, dont overthink it. Itll be fine.
Still, Emilys nerves persisted. She slept poorly, getting up several times for water. In the morning she agonised over her hairleave it loose or tie it up. She settled on a tidy bun.
James arrived precisely at ten, looking dapper in dark trousers, a white shirt and a blazerEmily rarely saw him so formal.
You look gorgeous, he said, kissing her cheek.
Thank you. You look sharplike a groom.
He smiled oddly, saying nothing else.
The drive took about an hour. James chatted about work and holiday plans, but Emily listened halfheartedly. The closer they got to his mothers house, the more her stomach fluttered.
The cottage was large, twostorey, with a wellkept garden. At the gate they were met by Margaret Finch, standing on the porchtall, dignified, in a crisp suit. Her silver hair was neatly styled, her face unreadable.
Hello, Mum, James kissed his mothers cheek. This is Emily.
Hello, Mrs. Finch, Emily offered the flowers and chocolates. Delighted to meet you.
Margaret gave her a assessing glance from head to toe, took the gifts and nodded.
Please, come in.
Inside, everything was spotlessno dust speck, everything in its place. The living room featured heavy furniture and family photographs in matching frames.
Sit down, Margaret gestured to the sofa. Would you like some tea?
Yes, thank you.
While Margaret disappeared to the kitchen, Emily examined the photos: James as a child, in school uniform, in a military coat, at his university graduation. In every picture his mother stood beside him; his father appeared only in old, faded images.
My dad died when I was fifteen, James said quietly, noticing her stare.
Margaret returned with a traymatching teapot, cups, sugar bowlall from the same set. She poured tea and sat opposite Emily.
So, Emily. James has told me a lot about you.
I hope only good things.
A bit of everything, Margaret sipped. Youre a accountant, right?
Yes, at a construction firm.
Were you married before?
Emily tensed. Shed expected the question, but it still felt uncomfortable.
I was. Divorced five years ago.
Any children?
No.
Why the divorce?
James shifted uneasily on the sofa.
Mom, maybe I shouldnt
James, I have a right to know who my son is involved with, Margaret said sharply, then turned to Emily. So why?
We just didnt click, Emily replied calmly.
Thats an excuse. Whats the real reason?
Emily took a deep breath.
My exhusband cheated. I found out and filed for divorce.
I see, Margaret said. And no children because?
It just never happened.
Health issues?
Mother! James raised his voice.
What, mother? If she has fertility problems I need to know. I want grandchildren.
Emily felt her cheeks flare. The conversation was far from what shed imagined.
I have no health problems. Its just that the marriage fell apart.
Fine, Margaret placed her cup down. Now, to the matter at hand. You may not know this, but our family has certain traditions and rules. If you intend to become part of the family, you must know and obey them.
She rose, went to a side table, fetched a folder, returned and handed Emily several stapled sheets.
Whats this? Emily asked, bewildered.
A list of requirements for the future daughterinlaw. Thirty points. Read carefully.
Emily glanced at James, who stared at the floor. She unfolded the papers.
Point one: the daughterinlaw must visit her motherinlaw at least twice a week.
Point two: must be able to cook every dish from the family recipe book.
Point three: must bear a minimum of two children within the first three years of marriage.
Point four: may not work after the first child is born.
Point five: must get approval from the motherinlaw for any major purchase.
With each point Emilys eyes widened. There were demands about clothing, housekeeping, childrearing, even the hairstyle she should wear.
Is this a joke? she asked, looking up.
Im not joking, Margaret replied coldly. These are serious requirements. My late daughterinlaw, the wife of my eldest son, adhered to them without fail.
You have an eldest son?
Yes. He died in a car crash with his wife three years ago. James is now my only son, and I wont let him marry an unsuitable woman.
Emily turned to James.
Did you know about this list?
He nodded, eyes still fixed on the floor.
And you said nothing?
I hoped Mum would change her mind, or that youd agree.
Agree to this? Emily stood, flinging the papers onto the table. James, this is medieval!
Dont dramatise, Margaret snapped. These are reasonable for a respectable woman.
Reasonable? Point fifteen says I must hand over my salary!
For the family budget. Ill allocate the money appropriately.
Point twentytwo says I cant meet friends without your permission!
A married woman neednt be out with friends.
And point twentyeight? I must live with you for a year after the wedding?
So I can teach you proper housekeeping.
Emily shook her head.
This is madness. James, how could you bring me here knowing all this?
Emily, lets talk calmly
Talk about what? That your mother wants to turn me into a slave?
How dare you! Margaret rose, her face flushing. Im offering fair terms. In return you get a wonderful husband, a comfortable life, a family.
Im not property you can purchase!
All women are for sale, just at different prices, Margaret said icily.
Emily grabbed her bag.
James, drive me home. Now.
Emily, wait
If she leaves now without accepting my terms, its over between you two, Margaret cut in.
James stood, looked at his mother, then at Emily. His eyes pleaded.
Emily, maybe youll reconsider? Not all points are set in stone, we can discuss
All points are nonnegotiable, Margaret interjected. No exceptions.
Emily stared at James, caught between the man she loved and his overbearing mother.
Take me home, she repeated softly.
The drive back was silent. James tried a few times to speak, but Emily turned to the window. When they stopped at her house, he turned to her.
Emily, lets talk.
About what? That youve been lying to me for six months?
I didnt lie! I just didnt know how to say it.
You took me to restaurants, gave me flowers, talked about love, yet you knew your mother had this list.
I hoped shed change her mind once she got to know you better.
She doesnt even want to know me. She wants a robot to do her bidding.
Mums just lonely. After her husband and brother died, Im all she has.
What else do you have, James? Apart from Mum?
He was silent.
Youre thirtyseven, a grown man, yet you cant decide without your mothers approval.
Thats not true
It is, James. Im not angry, Im sad for you.
Emily stepped out of the car, James followed.
Emily, wait! I love you!
She stopped at the building entrance, turned.
If you loved me, you wouldnt have put me through this humiliation. Goodbye, James.
She locked the door, slipped off her shoes and collapsed onto the sofa. Tears rose, but she held them back. No more crying over men who didnt deserve her tears.
Her phone rang. Charlotte.
So? Did Mum like you?
Charlotte, it was a nightmare.
What happened?
Emily narrated everything. Charlotte gasped intermittently.
Shes crazy! And James he brought you there like a sheep to the slaughter.
He says he loves me.
Loves his mum more. To him you were just entertainment.
Dont say that.
Im being honest. A normal bloke wouldnt allow that.
Emily knew Charlotte was right, but the heart doesnt obey logic. She still loved James, and love doesnt switch off with a click.
That evening James texted: Emily, lets meet, Ill explain everything. She didnt reply.
Later: Ill talk to my mum, convince her to soften the list.
Silence from her side.
Late night: I cant live without you. Please answer.
Emily turned the phone off.
The next morning at work she tried to focus on numbers, but the thirtypoint list kept flashing in her mind. How could anyone in the twentyfirst century demand such things?
Ms. Clarke, you have a visitor, the receptionist announced.
Who?
An elderly lady, says its a personal matter.
Emily frowned. Could it be?
In the reception area sat Margaret Finch, still in her stern suit, handbag poised.
What are you doing here?
We need to talk.
I have nothing to discuss.
There is something. Five minutes of your time.
Emily wanted to refuse, but curiosity won. She led the woman into a meeting room.
Im listening.
Margaret sat, smoothing her skirt.
You left yesterday without hearing the end.
I heard enough.
No, you dont know the whole story.
I dont want to know.
My eldest son Andrew married against my wishes, Margaret said, staring out the window. I opposed his bride; she was frivolous, flighty. I knew it wouldnt end well.
And?
They married. A year later she cheated. Andrew forgave her, then again, and again. He loved her to madness, forgave everything. Then they died in a crash. She was driving away from a lover.
Emily stayed silent.
I found their letters after they died. She mocked my son, called him a rag, spent his money, loved another.
Im sorry, but
I dont want history to repeat itself. James is my only son. I must protect him.
Protect? Youre suffocating him!
Im caring for him.
Youve turned him into a puppet who cant step out without your approval.
Margaret pursed her lips.
Ive made him a respectable man.
A respectable man who, at thirtyseven, still lives with his mother and is terrified to disagree.
He doesnt live with me. He has his own flat.
But you make the decisions.
She stood.
I see this conversation is pointless. Rememberif you dont accept my terms, James will find someone else. Someone who will.
Let him look. Hell probably find someone as spineless as he is.
Margaret glowered and left. Emily remained seated, the story of Andrew explained much, but it didnt justify turning a sons life into a prison.
The day dragged on. James called a few times; she ignored him. That evening, leaving the office, she saw his car in the lot. He waited by it.
Emily, please, hear me out.
What?
Your mother already came. I know everything about your brother.
She did?
Yes. I tried to explain my side.
And what did you decide?
What do you think?
He lowered his head.
Emily, I truly love you. But Mum shes all I have left of my family.
You could have your own family, a wife, children. But your mother wont let you.
Shell if the woman accepts her conditions.
You dont get it. No normal woman would agree to that. Whoever does will be with you for profit, not love.
Youre wrong
Right, James. Deep down you know it.
He stared at his shoes.
You know what? I wish you happiness. Really. But you wont find it until you become independent.
Im independent!
No, youre a marionette in your mothers hands. Until you see that, nothing changes.
Emily walked past him to the bus stop. He shouted, Emily! Ill wait! Maybe youll change your mind! She didnt look back.
A week later, Charlotte dragged her to a café after work.
Stop moping. Forget that mumson saga.
Im not moping, just thinking.
Whats there to think about? He showed his true colours.
He isnt a bad person, just weak.
Do you need a weak man?
No, Emily shook her head. I dont.
Exactly. Move on.
Its easy to say move on, but Emily couldnt simply erase six months of a relationship. Yes, it ended oddly and painfully, but there were good moments. James could be attentive and caringjust all under his mothers thumb.
On Saturday she visited her own mother in the suburbs, a cosy little cottage brimming with paintsplattered walls and canvases from her retirement hobby.
Mare, you look glum, her mum said, hugging her at the door.
Its fine, Mum.
Dont lieShe finally understood that freedom was worth more than any list of demands, and she walked away with a hopeful smile.
