March 12
I stared at the spilled flour on the linoleum, its pale clouds glowing under the dim kitchen light. The white streaks looked like a careless snowfall, but poetry could waitguests would be in an hour and the apple tart hadn’t even begun.
James stalked in, voice sharp. Making a mess again? he snapped. My mothers due any minute, and youre as usual.
I pressed my lips together, trying not to let the sting show.
It wasnt on purpose, James. The bag tore.
He opened the fridge with a sigh, grabbing a bottle of sparkling water. Things always break, fall, or shatter around you. Thirtyfive years old and still as clumsy as a child.
I started scooping the flour into a dustpan, swallowing my resentment. Ten years of this routine had taught me to drink back my tears.
Im off to meet my mother, James glanced at his watch. Make sure the table is set by seven. And try not to embarrass us, alright? Its her birthday after all.
When his door closed, I perched on a stool and breathed deeply. I thought back to the day we met at the town library where I workedhe was a regular, always borrowing the books I recommended, lingering long after closing. Hed asked me to the theatre and I felt like the heroine of a romance: a single mother with a child from a previous marriage, suddenly loved by a handsome, independent man. Who could have guessed the fairy tale would end so abruptly?
Harry slipped into the kitchen like a silent ghost.
Did you bring it again? he asked, nodding toward the front door.
Stop it, I snapped. Youre talking about your stepdad.
The one who treats you like a servant?
I had nothing to reply. At sixteen, Harry saw everything too clearly.
You should be doing your homework, not eavesdropping on grownup arguments, I muttered, returning to the cleaning.
He grumbled but didnt argue, rolling up his sleeves to help.
Mom, we need to talk, he said seriously. After school I want to apply to Manchester for a computerscience degree.
Manchester? I halted, the cloth still in my hand. But we agreed on staying here, with the flat and the?
And James, who keeps nagging you whenever he can, Harry cut in. I cant watch this any longer, Mum.
My dear, thats adult life. Families have their quirks.
This isnt a family, Mum. Its He waved a hand and left the kitchen.
By the time the guests arrived, I had managed to tidy up, set the table, and even bake an apple tartone of the few things I could still claim as a triumph. Margaret Thompson, a dignified woman in an elegant dress, inspected the spread with a critical eye but said nothing. A small victory.
Please, have a seat, Margaret, I hurried, James and Harry will be here any moment.
She lowered herself onto a chair, smoothing her silvered hair.
And wheres your boy? she asked, as if he were a pet.
Harrys in his room; Ill fetch him.
Studying, is it? Whats the point of all that learning? Hell end up just like his father, a handsoff lad.
I fell silent, not daring to contradict her. Margaret had always dismissed my first husband with contempt, even though shed never met him. Insulting a deceased man felt indecent, yet I could not openly defy her.
A knock announced the arrival of Claire and her husband Mark, Jamess sister and her successful businessman partner, whose presence always seemed to set James on edge.
Happy birthday, Mum! Claire rushed to embrace Margaret. You look stunninghardly a day over sixty!
Margarets smile brightened; Claire always knew the right words.
Emily, Mark kissed my hand, you look radiant. New haircut?
Yes, thank you, I replied, feeling Jamess displeased stare.
James began pouring champagne, deliberately ignoring Harry, who stood off to the side.
To the birthday girl! he announced. To the most wonderful mother in the world!
And to Grandma! Claire added. By the way Mum, we have a surprise for you.
What surprise? Margaret asked cautiously.
Were expecting a baby! Claire announced, beaming.
Margaret clapped her hands, tears of joy spilling over. Mark beamed, while James forced a smile.
Im delighted, I whispered. Thats wonderful news.
And why arent you having one yourself? Margaret suddenly asked, turning to me. James is almost forty and has no children of his own. Just a stepson in the house.
A heavy silence fell. My face flushed.
Mate, weve talked about this, James muttered through clenched teeth.
What have we talked about? That your wife is building a career? Margaret scoffed. What career does a librarian have? All my grandchildrens nannies are fulltime, and here you are gushing over my grandson. If only you had a decent boy
Margaret! I broke, my voice cracking. Harrys right here.
And Im not lying? she turned to him. Always in your corner, never saying a word. Going to Manchester, you say? What nonsense?
I stared at my son, bewildered. How had she learned of his plans?
Ill earn it myself, Harry said calmly. Ive already found a parttime remote job, building websites.
What websites? James interjected. You should be studying properly, not chasing nonsense.
Its not nonsense, its my future profession, Harry replied firmly. And it pays decently.
Who gave you permission? James raised his voice. You live under my roof, you follow my rules!
Your roof, your rules Harry muttered. Im not even your son, am I? So I dont have to obey.
Jamess face turned scarlet.
Thats exactly it! Not my son! Youll never be one!
James! I shouted, desperate. Stop this right now!
What did I say? James gestured helplessly. I spoke the truth! Ive fed and clothed him for ten years and get no thanks. All he does is sit in his room, stare at his computer. And now he wants to go to Manchester behind my back!
Behind your back? Harry smirked. I couldnt care less about your opinion. Youre nothing to me.
Harry! I cried, eyes darting between son and husband. James, please, not tonight. Its Margarets birthday.
No, nows perfect! James barked. Ive tolerated your burden for ten years, and now you expect me to fund his Manchester studies?
Margaret nodded approvingly, Claire and Mark ate in silence, while Harry stood pale but composed.
Ill earn it myself, he repeated. I dont need anything from you.
Really? James sneered. And the roof over your head? Food? Clothes? All mine! If you want to keep living like that, no Manchester for youstudy here under my watch. Thats my condition.
Inside me something snapped. Ten years of tolerating criticism, neglect, and cheap stabilityjust for a roof and for Harryhad finally broken.
Enough, I said quietly. Its Margarets birthday and weve turned this into a farce.
Thats your son causing a scene, James retorted. Always because of him. You cover for him constantly! Ungrateful brat and a motherhen. What, youll keep living off my neck?
I rose slowly from the table, the room heavy with silence.
Ive spent thirtyfive years in the library, I said, voice steadier than I felt. Two degrees in my pocket. I never asked you to support my sonwe managed before you.
No way, James scoffed. Didnt notice, did you?
I didnt want to notice, I answered. You needed a compliant housekeeper, not a wife. I became that. But enough.
What does that mean? James asked, frowning.
It means, I turned to Harry, that were leaving.
A grave hush fell.
Are you mad? James finally gasped. Where do you think youre going?
First to my sisters place, I said calmly. Then well find a flat. Ill get a better jobmaybe even in Manchester.
Harry looked at me, awe and admiration mixing in his eyes. He had never seen this side of me.
Absurd, James laughed nervously. Youll starve without me. How will you afford a flat?
Thats not my concern any more, I snapped. By the way, Im not just a librarian; Im the head librarian, and I earn a decent salary. You never bothered to ask.
Tell that to the man whos about to lose his wife! Mark interjected, his tone sharper than before. You heard? We have a careerwoman in the house!
Your mother heard enough, Mark said, stepping between us. Maybe its time to end this circus. Its her birthday, after all.
James lunged. What are you doing? Stay out of this!
Which family is this? VladimirMarkshook his head. The way you treat your wife and stepson is indescribable.
Dont you dare, James snapped, turning to his mother. Well see how you feel when youre left alone.
Enough, Claire said softly, cutting through the tension. Mark, youre right. This has gone too far.
Margarets face crumpled with disbelief.
Your son does everything for them, and you she began, her voice shaking.
Mother, Claire interrupted gently, Mark is right. Look at whats happening. Its terrible.
Without waiting for another argument, I slipped out of the room, Harry following. In the bedroom I grabbed a suitcase and began packing the essentials.
Youre serious? Harry asked, eyes wide.
More than serious, I replied. Pack your things. Were leaving.
What about money, a place to stay? he stammered.
I have some savings, I said, pulling a small tin from the wardrobesomething James never knew existed. It wont be much, but itll get us started. My sisters house is a stones throw away, and I have you, my bright lad. Well manage.
A knock sounded. Claire stood in the doorway.
Are you really going? she asked quietly.
Yes, I answered firmly. Weve had enough.
She hesitated, then reached into her bag and handed me an envelope.
Take this. Its from Mark and me. We wanted to help but were afraid James would find out.
Claire, I cant
You can, she said, youve endured ten years of his tirades. Accept it as a thankyou, not charity.
I took the envelope, my hands shaking.
Thank you, I whispered. And Im sorry for ruining the celebration.
What celebration? Claire waved a hand. Maybe now James will finally think about his behaviour. Though I doubt it.
When Harry, I, and my suitcase emerged into the living room, the atmosphere was thick with tension. James glowered, Margaret pursed her lips, and Mark watched with a faint smile.
Were leaving, I said simply. Thank you for everything, James, and sorry if anything went wrong.
James lunged, words stuck in his throat.
Enough drama, Mark muttered. Were done. Do you need a lift?
No, thank you, I shook my head. Well take a taxi.
The door shut behind us, and I felt an unexpected lightness, as if a tenyearheavy backpack had been dropped. Harry squeezed my hand, just as he used to when I was a child.
Youre amazing, Mum, he whispered. Im proud of you.
Thanks, love, I smiled. Maybe Manchester isnt such a bad idea after allnew city, new start.
We descended the stairs and stepped out onto the earlyMay street, the sweet scent of hawthorn hanging in the cool air.
My phone rang. It was James.
Dont answer, Harry said, shaking his head.
I stared at the screen, then at Jamess name, and pressed decline.
Okay, James? I said, voice calm. Youve no right to set conditions for me. No more conditions. Never again.
I hung up, the taxi pulling up. We climbed in, and the driver eased away, carrying us toward whatever lay ahead.
Back on the fourth floor, James hurled his phone at the wall in fury, turning to his mother for support. Margaret stared at him, a strange realization dawning.
You really are unbearable, James, she whispered finally. How did I not see it before?
She broke down, tears not of bitterness but of remorse, mourning the mistakes that had made her raise a selfish son. Whether it was too late to change, I could not tell, but for the first time in years I felt the weight lift.
