Your son is the worst nothing good will ever come of him!
Olivia froze in the doorway, her hands trembling as the cake slipped from her grasp. Margaret stared at her with thinlyveiled displeasure, as if Olivia had somehow offended the very air.
Mother, what are you on about? Olivia set the cake down on the table. What does Michael have to do with this?
Because hes already in Year7 and still at a ordinary comprehensive! Margarets voice rose. No specialisms, no accelerated courses. How is he ever going to get into a respectable university? How will he ever achieve anything?
Olivia bit her lip. The argument unfolded in the familiar script, and a hot flare of injustice flared in her chest.
Mother, Michael does well. He gets fives in most subjects, has a maths tutor, wants to go into programming like his father did.
Exactly! Margaret flapped her hands. Programming! Sitting behind a computer, just like your Sam. A dull job, a dull wage. And you? Teacher! Tutor! Scraping together pennies. Do you even feed your child properly?
Olivia clenched her fists. Margarets words cut into the softest places. Yes, Sam and she werent flush with cash; they counted every pound. Yet Michael grew up happy.
Our life is fine. Michael is happy.
Happy? Margaret scoffed, drifting to the window. Victors son, though now thats a real treasure. Anthony goes to a school with an intensive English programme. Imagine that English from the first year! He speaks fluently already. Victor and Helen are brilliant they pour money into their child without a second thought.
Olivia listened in silence. Her brother had always been the golden child. Hed started a small firm, bought a larger flat, his wife Helen stayed at home with the baby. Margaret never missed a chance to set them against Olivias side.
Anthony is a gifted boy! she went on, voice softening. Hell surely make something of himself. Victor says theyll send him abroad for language courses at thirteen. Thats real foresight, not the ordinary school youre stuck with.
Olivia moved closer, feeling the tension in Margarets shoulders, the stern set of her jaw.
Mother, I know you want grandchildren to shine, but Michael isnt worse than Anthony. Theyre just on different paths.
Different paths! Margaret snapped, turning sharply. One leads up, to success. The other drifts in grey poverty. Is that what you want for your son? To live in want?
Something inside Olivia tightened.
Mother, were not poor. We live within our means. Michael will grow into a good man smart, kind, hardworking.
Hardworking! Margaret huffed. Thats not enough today, darling. You need connections, money, a prestigious education. What does Michael have? A regular school and a motherteacher who can barely stretch the budget.
Olivia turned away. Before her lay the cake, studded with berries, the one shed baked with love. Now the dessert seemed pointless
Mother, I wont argue. We raise our son the way we think is right, and hes happy.
The future is what matters! Margaret stepped closer. Youre ruining him with your neglect. Victor knows how to push a child toward greatness. You just drift along.
Olivia shook her head. Arguing was futile. Margaret stood firm, unmoved.
Fine, Mother. Lets just have lunch. Sam and Michael will be here soon.
As expected, the meal unfolded under a taut atmosphere. Margaret bragged about Anthonys brilliance, Victors pride spilling over. Michael ate quietly, stealing glances at his mother. Olivia forced a smile, trying to show all was well.
After that lunch Olivia realised she would have to keep contact with her mother to a bare minimum. The endless comparisons were too painful. She phoned Margaret and Victor, sent holiday greetings, but stopped arranging family gatherings. Margaret complained, yet Olivia held her ground. She had to shield her son from that poison.
Years passed. Michael grew, studied, fell in love with coding. Olivia heard only occasional updates about her brother. Anthony graduated with a gold medal, entered a prestigious university not without his fathers connections.
Michael also finished school, earned a place at a regular technical college on a scholarship, passed his exams honestly. By his third year he was working at a modest IT firm. Olivia beamed with pride. Sam beamed too. Yet Margaret still talked only of Anthony.
More years slipped by. The children were approaching thirty. For Margarets birthday the whole family gathered. Victor and Helen arrived, Anthony too a tall, handsome man with a careless haircut. Hed left his first job shortly after university, claiming he wanted to chase music, to form a band. Victor funded the gear. Two years later the band was still unknown, and Anthony was living at his parents house, not earning a penny.
Olivia watched Margaret glow as she cradled Anthony, asking about his musical projects. He answered lazily, yawning, scrolling through his phone. Margaret didnt see the indifference; to her he remained a golden grandson.
Michael sat beside his wife Annie, who was in her fourth month of pregnancy. He worked for a large IT corporation, earned a good salary, rented a flat, saved for a house. Yet his grandmother seemed blind to his achievements.
Olivia saw Sams jaw tighten, Annies worried stare, Michaels steady smile as he stroked her hand. Evening stretched on. Margaret regaled the guests with stories of Anthonys future fame. He nodded politely. Olivia stayed silent.
Finally the evening waned. Sam, Michael and Annie were the first to leave, saying theyd wait by the car. Olivia was pulling a scarf over a coat when Margaret approached.
Olivia, wait. I have to tell you something.
Olivia froze. Margarets voice dropped to a hush, serious at last.
Your Michael is so dull, Olivia. Grey, ordinary. Just like you and Sam. No spark. Anthony, on the other hand, is a genius, a star. Hell show everyone. Your son simply lives, works, marries, will have a child. Nothing special. He blends in with millions of others.
Olivia stared at her mother, feeling something shatter inside her. She exhaled slowly, met her mothers eyes.
Mother, Ive thought about this for a long time. I imagined 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 frowned, but Olivia lifted her hand.
But the truth is simpler. You never loved my son. You showed it through endless comparisons, through praise of Anthony, through criticism of Michael. You didnt want him to be better. You just wanted me to know that, in your eyes, my son was insufficient.
Margarets face went pale. Olivia, calmly fastening the buttons of her coat, continued.
And you know what? My son is the best. Smart, kind, diligent, decent. Hes grown into a fine man. Hell soon be a father and will be wonderful at it, because I never let him hear your poison. I protected him from your venom, Mother. I did everything to let him grow happy.
Margaret stared, mouth open, eyes wide. Olivia gathered her bag.
You can keep your opinions about me, Sam and our son to yourself. I no longer care. Ive wasted too many years trying to earn your love. No more. Live as you wish, love who you wish. Im washing my hands of this game. Ill soon have a grandson, and Ill love him as a grandmother should.
Olivia walked out of the flat, closed the door behind her, and descended to the car where her husband, son and daughterinlaw waited. Sam embraced her, Michael smiled. Olivia slipped into the passenger seat, leaned back. A strange, unfamiliar calm settled over her, as if a weight had finally lifted from her shoulders. No more pretence, no more adjusting, no more proving anything.
It had taken years, but at last she was free from her mothers judgment. She had everything that truly mattered a real family. What more could a person ask for?
