We dont need someone like that Forgive me, Blythe, the wouldbe motherinlaw said hurriedly, I didnt mean those harsh words. I wasnt angry when I said them. Perhaps youll drop by sometime? Harry is still on his own, still wandering after parting with you, lost in his video games
***
Blythe and Harry had been together for almost two years. Blythe thought their relationship was serious: she often visited Harrys family home, where they received her politely, if not warmly. She imagined a sturdy future. Harry, though a bit carefree, possessed a charm and a veneer of purpose.
The idyll shattered when Harry failed a crucial English exam. His negligencea pandemicera binge of games that eclipsed his studies threatened his expulsion.
In the throes of that crisis Blythe could not hold back. She turned to Harrys mother and declared sharply:
I dont want a man who achieves nothing. I need a selfsufficient partner. Im not going to be anyones housemaid; I want us to share everythinghousehold chores and earnings alike!
Her words hung in the air, instantly casting doubt on their future.
Mrs. Whitaker took the remark as a personal affront. She had spent her life providing for her husband and son, believing her role was to care, not demand results. Now she expected Blythe to behave the same way.
Oh, the irony! she chided. A woman should first be the keeper of the hearth, and the man the head of the household!
Blythe fell silent, unwilling to fuel the quarrel. From then on the door was no longer opened for her. Communication with Harry dwindled to secret messages, occasional calls, and brief meetings in neutral cafés. He suffered the distance, but instead of honesty resorted to manipulation.
Blythe, we have to talk to my mother, Harry insisted over the phone. You need to explain you dont really feel that way. Im tired of hiding. Make peace with my parents, will you?
Why should I prove anything to your mother? She didnt raise me. These are your problems, not mine. Why should I bend?
Because you love me, and I love you. Its the only way to fix this. If you dont, well lose each other forever
With a heavy heart she agreedlove drove her to the humiliating step of confronting a strangers mother.
But it unfolded far from what shed imagined.
When Blythe arrived, Harry let her into the hallway. At that moment his father descended the stairs:
Harry, what is this girl doing here? he asked sharply.
Harry stammered. Blythe felt the color drain from her cheeks. The question sounded as if she were a random acquaintance, not his beloved.
Dad, Blythe, we wanted, Harry began, but his father cut him off:
I see who she is. Get her out of here!
Mrs. Whitaker emerged from the living room:
Whos making all that noise? Harry, whos with you?
Ignoring Blythe, the father shouted:
The very one who taught you how to live.
Blythe realised she was unwanted. Hurt and humiliation sparked an instinctive reaction.
Im leaving, and you stay, you pitiful, mamaboy! she hissed, storming out and slamming the door loudly.
Harry, stunned, made no move to stop her.
Just as she stepped into the stairwell, her phone rang. Harrys voice crackled with fury, not remorse:
What did you say?! Youve ruined everything!
What have I ruined? Your father just turned me into a callgirl!
It doesnt matter who he placed me with! Youve caused a scene! Now Mums furious, and Dad insists I never see you again!
He then delivered the final blow:
And guess what? Ill never be allowed to sit at my computer again.
Blythe felt pain melt into cold resolve.
You blame me for not being able to game? Your familys problems are yours alone. You should have dealt with them yourself, not made me the scapegoat.
Everything became clear: he hadnt changed. He remained an infantile youth, hunting for someone to blame, offering her no protection.
I cant endure this any longer, Harry. Were done. This is the end, she said firmly. She blocked him everywhere. The break was abrupt but necessary. His familys cross was his, not hers.
A year later Blythe had healed and begun a new chapter. She met a new boyfriend; three months in, they were already talking about wedding bells.
One afternoon, while browsing a shop, she was startled by a familiar voice.
Blythe! My dear, hello! cried Mrs. Whitaker, Harrys mother, rushing toward her.
Blythe froze:
Hello
Mrs. Whitaker embraced her, bombarding her with questions:
How long its been since we last met! How are you? How have you been? Blythe, its terrible that you and Harry split. Hes gone mad with his games! He refuses work, spends all his time at the computer. When you were together, he was so much more responsible Come visit us!
Excuse me, Mrs. Whitaker, Im busy. Work, home
Mrs. Whitakers eyes fell on a ring on Blythes finger.
Whats that? Are you married?
No, were only engaged. The wedding will be this summer.
The brief kindness evaporated from the wouldbe motherinlaws face:
So thats it! Everythings clear now. Good thing Harry dumped you! We dont need someone like you!
Blythe shrugged and turned toward the shelves. In a strange way, Mrs. Whitaker was rightshe was glad to have let him go in time. It was just a pity shed wasted those years on him.
