Forgive me, dear Poppy, the wouldbe motherinlaw babbled hurriedly, as if the words were a thin veil. I didnt mean them in spite; they slipped out in the heat of the moment. Perhaps youll drop by sometime? Jamie still lives alone, still wandering after his parting with you, lost in his videogames
***
Poppy Whitaker and James Hartley had been together for almost two years. To Poppy their bond felt serious: she spent many evenings in the Hartley household, where she was received politely, though never with a warm fire in the hearth. She imagined a sturdy future. James, though a little carefree, had a rakish charm and a knack for setting goals.
The idyll shattered when James flunked a crucial English exam. The failure was his own doing: during the lockdown he sunk into endless gaming sessions, abandoning his studies, and a threat of expulsion loomed.
In the throes of the crisis Poppy could not hold back. She turned to Jamess mother and declared, voice sharp as glass:
I cannot stay with a man who achieves nothing. I need a selfsufficient partner. I will not become anyones housekeeper; I want us to share the chores and the earnings, together!
The words hung in the air like a sudden fog, instantly casting doubt on what lay ahead.
Margaret Hartley, who had spent her life feeding and doting on her husband and son, took the outburst as a personal affront. She had always believed her role was to care, not to demand results, and now expected Poppy to behave the same way.
Good heavens! she snapped, echoing an oldfashioned proverb. A womans place is first and foremost the keeper of the home, and a man the head of the household!
Poppy fell silent, unwilling to fan the flames. From then on doors seemed to close on her. Their communication dwindled to secret messages, occasional phone calls, and brief meetings in neutral cafés. James suffered the longing, but instead of honesty he slipped into manipulation.
Poppy, we have to speak with my mother, James pressed over the line. You need to explain that you dont really feel that way. Im tired of hiding! Make peace with your parents, wont you?
Why should I prove anything to your mother? Poppy retorted. She didnt raise me. This is your problem, not mine. Why should I bend?
Because you love me and I love you, James pleaded. Its the only way to fix everything. If you dont do it, well lose each other forever
With a heavy heart, Poppy agreedlove coaxed her toward a humiliating step: to try and make peace with a strangers mother.
But the dream twisted in ways she hadnt foreseen.
When Poppy arrived, James let her into the hallway. In that instant the front door swung open and Jamess father, Arthur, descended the stairs.
What is this girl doing here? he demanded, voice startling and echoing off the cracked plaster.
James faltered. Poppy felt her cheeks drain of colour, as though the blood itself were slipping away. The question seemed to treat her not as his lover but as a random acquaintance.
Dad, Poppy, we wanted James began, but Arthur cut him off.
I see who she is. Shes out.
From the living room Margaret rose, eyes wide.
Whos making that racket? Jamie, whos with you?
Arthur, ignoring Poppy, scoffed, The very one who taught you how to live.
Poppy realised she was an unwelcome spectre in this house. Humiliation and fury drove her instinct.
Im leaving, and you stay, you pitiful, motherspoonfed boy! she hissed, storming out, slamming the door so hard it rattled the hinges.
James, stunned, did not even try to stop her.
The minute she stepped into the stairwell, her phone rang. Jamess voice crackled with fury, not remorse:
Why did you say that? Youve ruined everything!
What have I ruined? Your father just turned me into a callgirl on his level!
It doesnt matter who he put me with or where! You caused a scene! Mother is furious, and father wants me to never see you again!
Then, with a final, cutting line, he added:
And the worst part? Ill never get to sit at my computer again.
Poppy felt the sting of betrayal melt into a cold resolve.
You blame me for not being able to game? she snapped. Your familys troubles are yours to sort, not mine. You should have dealt with them yourself, not dragged me into the drama.
It became clear: James had not changed. He remained a boyish soul searching for scapegoats, never defending her.
I cant endure this any longer, Jamie. Were done. This is the end, she declared, firm as stone. She blocked him on every platform. The breakup was abrupt, but necessary. His familys cross was his burden, not hers.
***
A year later, Poppy recovered from the split and began anew. She met a new man, and after three months they were heading toward marriage.
One afternoon, while browsing a shop, she unexpectedly ran into Irene HartleyJamess motherwho threw herself at Poppy with a flourish.
Poppy! My dear, hello! she exclaimed, arms wide.
Poppy startled. Hello
Irene seized her, a flood of questions pouring out:
Its been ages! How are you? Hows life treating you? Im sorry to hear you and Jamie broke up. Hes gone mad with his games! He wont work, always glued to the screen. When you were together, he was far more responsible Come visit us sometime!
Sorry, Irene, Im busy. Work, home Poppy replied.
Irenes eyes fell on the ring glinting on Poppys finger.
Whats that? Are you married?
No, were only engaged. Well have the wedding this summer.
The smile that had once warmed Irenes face vanished instantly, replaced by a sharp edge.
So thats it! All clear now! Good thing Jamie left you! We dont need someone like you!
Poppy shrugged and turned toward the shelves. In a twisted way, Irenes words held a sliver of truth: perhaps it was better that she had let him go early. Yet a faint regret lingeredshe wished she hadnt spent so much time on a boy who would never change.
