«Go back to your mother,» the husband commanded, shoving the suitcases out the door.
«Mum, stop calling him,» Charlotte said, setting her teacup down with a heavy sigh. «James is at workhes in a meeting.»
«At work, is he?» Margaret pursed her lips. «I know all about these ‘meetings.’ Yesterday, he was at one too, wasnt he? Staggered in at midnight reeking of whisky.»
Charlotte rubbed her temples wearily. Ever since she and James had moved in with her mother, every day began like this. It was meant to be temporaryjust a few months while their flat was being renovated. But the second month was drawing to a close, and the repairs showed no sign of finishing.
«Mum, please,» Charlotte kept her voice steady. «You promised not to interfere.»
«Im not interfering,» Margaret set the phone aside. «Im just worried about you. You work yourself to the bone while he gallivants about. What sort of man is that?»
«A good man,» Charlotte stood from the table. «Hes not gallivanting. It was an important client meetingI told you.»
Margaret scoffed but didnt argue. Charlotte knew that lookher mother didnt believe a word of it.
«Im off to work,» Charlotte said, gathering her bag. «Ill be back by eight.»
«What about lunch? I made leek and potato soup.»
«No time, Mum. Ive a meeting at one, then a client afterwards.»
«Youre always starving yourself,» Margaret shook her head. «No wonder youre not pregnant. How can you expect a child on an empty stomach?»
Charlotte sighed. Children were a sore subject, yet her mother brought it up with relentless regularity. Five years of marriage and still no grandchildren. A disgrace, apparently.
«See you tonight,» Charlotte kissed her mothers cheek. «James said hed be home earlywell have supper together.»
«If he comes home at all,» Margaret muttered.
Stepping into the hall, Charlotte leaned against the wall. The damp, faintly musty scent of the stairwellonce comforting, familiarnow only grated at her.
In the car, she rang James first.
«James, has Mum been calling you again?»
«Three times,» his voice was tired. «I didnt answer.»
«Im sorryshe worries.»
«Worries?» James gave a bitter laugh. «She monitors my every move. Last night, it was an inquisitionwhere Id been, who Id drunk with, why I was late. Im not a schoolboy, Charlotte!»
«I know,» she started the engine. «Just bear with it a little longer. The builder said hed finish the bathroom this weekjust the kitchen left after that. Well be home soon.»
James was silent. When he spoke again, his voice was hollow.
«What if I dont want to go back?»
«What do you mean?» Charlotte frowned.
«Never mind. See you at work.»
He hung up. Charlotte stared at her phone, an uneasy weight settling in her chest. What had he meant? Not wanting to return to the flator to her?
The workday dragged. Twice, she fumbled figures in the meeting; with a client, she forgot a crucial contract clause entirely. She didnt see Jameshed gone to a site and wouldnt return till evening.
It was nearly nine when she got home, delayed by correcting her paperwork. The flat was quiet, save for the muffled hum of the telly from the kitchen.
«Im back!» she called, toeing off her shoes.
No answer. Oddusually, her mother came out to ask about her day. Charlotte stepped into the kitchen and froze.
Her mother and James sat at the table, tension crackling between them. Margaret stared pointedly at the telly, ignoring her son-in-law. James twisted a cup of cold tea in his hands.
«Whats going on?» Charlotte asked.
James looked up. His gaze was icy, unfamiliar.
«Ask your mother,» he said. «Shes been tearing into me for the last half-hour.»
«Margaret, what happened?»
Her mother sniffed.
«Nothing happened. I just told your husband a few home truths. That hes not a real manspineless. Cant even provide for his wifeliving off his mother-in-law because he cant afford his own place.»
«Mum!» Charlotte exclaimed. «We *have* our own place!»
«What, that poky little flat in that soulless block?» Margaret waved a hand. «In my day, men supported their families, built homes. And him? Some sort of manager…»
«Im a project lead,» James said through clenched teeth. «I earn enough. Were only here because of the renovations.»
«Five years, and what do you have to show for it?» Margaret barrelled on. «No children, no proper home. Your wife slaves away while you»
«Mum, enough!» Charlotte raised her voice. «We agreedno pressure, no talk of children!»
Margaret tightened her lips.
«I only want whats best. Youre thirty-two, lovetimes slipping by.»
Charlotte sat beside James, taking his hand. He didnt pull away, but neither did he squeeze back.
«James, Im sorry. She means well.»
«Means well?» He gave a joyless smile. «She thinks Im worthless. Always hasfrom the start.»
Charlotte said nothing. What could she say? Her mother *had* opposed the marriage. *»No prospects,»* shed said. *»No money, no connections. And five years youngerstill wet behind the ears.»*
«Off to bed with you,» Margaret grumbled, standing. «Ive my blood pressure check in the morning, and you two are carrying on.»
She shuffled out, slamming her door. Alone, James exhaled sharply.
«I cant do this anymore,» he said. «Shes suffocating me. Us.»
Charlotte swallowed. For the first time, she saw it clearlyher mothers grip, relentless and unyielding.
Morning came too soon. James left earlyshe hadnt even heard him go. Her mother sat at the table with tea and pills.
«So, your prince charming fled?» she said by way of greeting.
«Mum, stop,» Charlotte said tiredly. «Hes my husband. I love him. You need to respect that.»
«Respect is earned,» Margaret snapped. «Your father was a real man. Not a nail hammered without him. But *him*? Leaky tap? Call a plumber. Shelf to put up? Ask the neighbor. What use is he?»
Charlotte ate in silence. Arguing was futile. Her mother saw the world in absolutesright and wrong, strong and weak. Unchangeable.
At work, James was absent againanother site visit. Their messages were clipped, professional, yesterdays quarrel unmentioned. She stayed late, dreading the return.
But the flat was brightly lit, voices raised in the kitchen. She hurried in.
James and Margaret stood squared off. Their eyes locked, tension thick between them.
«Whats happening?» Charlotte asked.
«Your husband,» Margaret jabbed a finger at James, «has decided to move out. Says hes rented a flatleaving tomorrow.»
Charlotte went pale.
«James, is this true?»
«Yes,» he nodded. «Found a decent place near work. Moving tomorrow.»
«And me?» Her voice wavered.
«Your choice,» he met her gaze. «Come with me, or stay. But if you stay, its for good. Im done with these games.»
Margaret scoffed.
«Listen to him! Giving ultimatums in *my* home. Shes *my* daughternot yours!»
James ignored her, eyes on Charlotte.
«Decide.»
Her chest tightened. Two paths, impossibly opposed. A lifetime of her mothers controlor losing James.
«Im staying,» she whispered.
James flinched as if struck.
«What?»
«I cant leave her like this. She needs me. We can waitjust till the renovations»
Margaret smirked.
«See? A daughter chooses her mother.»
James exhaled sharply, then turned on his heel.
«Fine. Live with her. But dont expect me to wait.»
The door slammed. Margaret patted Charlottes arm.
«Hell cool off. And if notgood riddance.»
Charlotte stared at the closed door, her world fracturing. The choice was made. Right or wrong, only time would tell.
Two weeks later, divorce papers arrived. She signed without reading. Her mother said nothing, lips pressed tight.
The renovations finished a month later. The flat stood emptytoo painful to revisit. Shed rent it out, she decided.
She found a new job, far from Jamess office. Took walks, went to films, the theatre. Sometimes, even with her motherstrangely softened now, as if fearing to lose her completely.
Some nights, she cried for James. Wonderedwhat if shed chosen differently? Would they have been happy?
But life didnt deal in *what-ifs*. The path was chosen. Step by step, she walked it, learning to live without him. Learning not to blame her mother, or James, or herself.
The rest? Only time would tell.
