Your son is the worst, Margaret shouts, nothing good will ever come of him!
Olivia freezes in the doorway, a birthday cake wobbling in her hands. Her mother eyes her disapprovingly, as if Olivia has committed a grave offense.
Mother, what are you on about? Olivia places the cake on the kitchen table. What does Michael have to do with this?
Your point is that hes already in Year7 and still at a regular secondary school! Margaret raises her voice. No specialist tracks, no advanced programmes. How will he ever get into a respectable university? How will he ever achieve anything?
Olivia bites her lip. The argument follows the same old script, and a hot flash of injustice flares in her chest.
Mother, Michael does well. He gets As in most subjects, has a maths tutor, and wants to go into programming like his father.
Thats exactly it! Margaret waves her hands dramatically. Programming! Sitting behind a computer, just like your brother Sam. A runofthemill job, a runofthemill salary. And you? A teacher! A private tutor! You barely scrape a penny. Are you even feeding your child properly?
Olivia clutches her fists. Her mothers words strike the most sensitive spots. Yes, Sam and Margaret never amassed great wealth; they have to count every pound. But Michael grows up happy.
Were fine. Michaels happy.
Happy? Margaret scoffs, walking to the window. Victors son is a real treasure. Anton attends a school with an intensive English programme. Can you imagine? English from the first year, speaking fluently already. Victor and Lena are brilliant they pour money into their child.
Olivia listens in silence. Her brother has always been the golden child. He opened a small business, bought a bigger flat, his wife Lena stays at home, caring for the house and their son. Every chance Margaret gets, she pits them against Olivia.
Anton is a talented boy! Margaret continues, now sounding warmer. Hell certainly make something of himself. Victor says theyll send him abroad for a language course at thirteen. Thats true foresight, thats a future plan. Not this ordinary school youve settled for.
Olivia steps closer to her mother, whose shoulders are stiff, face stern.
Mother, I know you want grandchildren to succeed, but Michael isnt worse than Anton. They just have different paths.
Different paths! Margaret snaps. One leads up to success, the other drifts down into grey poverty. Is that what you want for your son? To live in squalor?
Something inside Olivia tightens.
Were not poor. We live within our means. Michael will grow into a good mansmart, kind, hardworking.
Hardworking! Margaret huffs. Thats not enough these days, dear. You need connections, money, a prestigious education. What does Michael have? A regular school and a motherteacher who can barely make ends meet.
Olivia turns away. In front of her sits the cake, glazed with berries, baked with love. Now the dessert feels pointless.
Mother, I dont want to argue. Were raising our son how we think is right, and hes happy.
The future is what matters! Margaret steps closer. Youre ruining him with your carelessness. Victor gets it. He does everything so Anton becomes someone important. You just drift along.
Olivia shakes her head. Arguing is useless; Margaret stands firm, unshaken.
Fine, Mother. Lets just have lunch. Sam and Michael will be here soon.
As expected, the lunch passes with a strained atmosphere. Margaret boasts about Antons brilliance, Victors pride, while Michael eats quietly, glancing at his grandmother. Olivia smiles at him, trying to convey that everything is alright.
Afterward, Olivia realizes she must limit her contact with Margaret. The constant comparisons hurt too much. She calls her motherinlaw and Victor, sends holiday greetings, but stops arranging family gatherings. Margaret feels slighted, yet Olivia holds her ground, protecting her son from the negativity.
Years pass. Michael grows, studies, and becomes passionate about coding. Olivia occasionally hears news about her brother from Margaret. Anton graduates with a gold medal, gains a place at a top universitythanks in part to his fathers connections.
Michael also finishes school, earns a place at a reputable technical college on a scholarship, passes exams honestly, and by his third year works at a modest IT firm. Olivia is proud, Sam shares the pride, but Margaret still waxes only about Anton.
A few more years later, the children are approaching thirty. For Margarets birthday, the whole family gathers. Victor and Lena arrive, as does Antontall, goodlooking, with a careless haircut. After university, he quit his job to chase a music career, forming a band. Victor funded the equipment. Two years later the band is still unknown; Anton lives at home, unemployed, unpaid.
Olivia watches Margaret beam at Anton, hugging him, patting his head, asking about his musical projects. He answers lazily, yawning, scrolling through his phone. Margaret doesnt notice his indifference; to her, Anton remains the golden grandchild.
Michael sits beside his wife Emma, who is four months pregnant. He works for a large IT corporation, earns a solid salary, rents a flat, and saves for a house. Yet the grandmother barely acknowledges him.
Olivia sees Sam tense, jaw clenched. Emma watches her husband anxiously, but Michael smiles, gently stroking Emmas hand. Evening drags on as Margaret regales the guests with stories of Antons future fame. Anton nods halfheartedly. Olivia remains silent.
Finally, the night draws to a close. Sam, Michael, and Emma leave first, saying theyll wait by the car. Olivia ties a scarf in the hallway when Margaret approaches.
Olivia, wait. I have something to tell you.
Olivia freezes. Margaret speaks low but seriously.
Your Michael is so dull, Olivia. Grey, ordinary. Just like you and Sam. No spark. Anton, however, is a different storya genius, a star. Hell prove it to everyone. Your son just lives, works, marries, soon has a child. Nothing special. Hes just another face in the crowd.
Olivia stands, looking at her mother. Something inside her shatters. She exhales slowly, meets Margarets eyes.
Mother, Ive thought about this for a long time. I believed you wanted me to be a better mother, to push Michael harder, to invest more in him. I thought your criticism came from a good place, to spur me on.
Margaret frowns, but Olivia raises her hand.
But the truth is simpler. You never loved my son. All this time you showed it through endless comparisons, through praise of Anton, through criticism of Michael. You didnt want him to improve; you just wanted me to know he isnt good enough for you.
Margarets face pales. Olivia calmly fastens the buttons on her coat.
Yet you know what? My son is the best. Smart, kind, diligent, decent. Hes grown into an ideal man. Hell soon be a father and a wonderful dad, because I never let him hear that, to you, hes an unwanted grandchild. I protected him from your poison, Mother. I made sure he grew up happy.
Margaret stays silent, eyes wide. Olivia grabs her bag.
Your opinions about me, Sam, and our son can stay with you. I dont care about them any longer. Ive wasted years trying to prove we deserve your love. No more. Live as you wish, love whomever you like. Im washing my hands of this game. Ill soon have my own grandchild, and Ill love him as a grandmother should.
Olivia walks out of the flat, closes the door behind her, heads down to the car where Sam, Michael, and Emma wait. Sam embraces her, Michael grins. Olivia slides into the passenger seat, leans back. A strange, unfamiliar calm settles over her, as if a weight has lifted from her shoulders. No more pretending, no more adjusting, no more proving anything.
It has taken years, but at last she frees herself from her mothers judgment. She has what truly matters: a real family. What more could a person need?
