Its your mother so its your responsibility! I said, but shed had enough.
Poppy Evans buttoned her sons coat, clenching her jaw to keep the anger at bay. Today she faced the ordeal she dreaded most: a visit to her motherinlaw. From the start their relationship had been a constant battle.
Margaret Evans had never accepted Poppy as her sons wife. Whatever Poppy did, Margaret always found a fault, always a criticism to hurl.
Again, Poppy? I sighed, noting the tight set of her features. You dont want to go, do you?
She let out a bitter laugh.
Are you really asking me that? Seriously, Tom? You know exactly why I dont want to go!
Her eyes flared with fury.
Shell nag me, put me down, tell me Im not raising our boy properly! And it doesnt matter that I work, run the house, cook, clean and pay every bill! Im the one holding this family together by the scruff of the neck!
Youre at home all day, I replied, shrugging.
Her stare darkened.
Oh yeah? You think I just sit around doing nothing? Or that money falls from the sky?
I work too, she growled. Its not my fault Im not paid more.
The truth was that Poppys earnings as a freelance designer were three times mine. She was the familys main earner.
Cant you go alone? she asked, hoping for an out.
Poppy, its Mothers Day! You cant just ignore my mother! I said, trying to soften the blow.
She sighed, finished dressing our son, and two hours later we were at Margarets flat.
In the sitting room, my niece, Lucy, was already perched on a cushion. Poppy had long sensed that Margaret favoured Lucy, treating her like royalty while barely acknowledging her own grandson. It wasnt a surprise; Lucy had lost her parents five years earlier, and Margaret had raised her as her own.
Around them, Margarets sisters laughed loudly, clinking their wine glasses.
Then, suddenly, Margaret dropped a bomb.
Ive made a decision, she announced solemnly. Im leaving my flat to Lucy. You, Tom, already have a home.
I barely flinched, just nodded.
A few days later the paperwork was done. The flat now belonged to Lucy, on the condition she could only move in after Margarets death.
But fate had other plans.
A massive stroke left Margaret paralysed and unable to look after herself.
Were moving in with Mom, I declared firmly. She cant be left alone.
A cold shiver ran through Poppy. She knew exactly what that meant.
Shed have to feed, clothe, bathe her, and still work and look after our son.
She said nothing.
Weeks passed and Poppy reached her limit.
One night she finally exploded.
Tom, the flat belongs to Lucy. Shouldnt she be looking after her own mother? she snapped.
Lucys at university, Tom. Shes got a boyfriend. You expect her to bring him here? I replied.
Poppy let out a dry, icy laugh.
Tom, I cant take this any longer!
He crossed his arms.
Oh, I see. Youre already exhausted?
Her hands trembled with rage.
Im suffocating! Everything rests on me you, your mother, our child, my job I CANT ANYMORE!
But you work from home, he muttered, smug.
Poppys eyes sharpened like broken glass.
And then? You think I dont really work?
Her heart hammered.
You know what? From now on its YOUR turn to look after your mother!
Its my mother, but its also your motherinlaw! Thats your role! You want me to wash her, maybe?
A deathly silence fell.
Poppys voice turned cold and steady.
I owe you nothing.
I chuckled.
In that case, hire a carer then!
Oh? Youll pay for her?
Why should I foot the bill?
Then there wont be a carer.
I crossed my arms.
You can dip into Moms pension. Or your salary?
My face hardened.
And why do I even have a wife?
That was the spark. Something inside Poppy finally shattered.
Everything became blindingly clear.
I had been using her for years.
And Lucy? She hadnt even bothered to visit her grandmother.
That night Poppy didnt sleep.
In the morning she knew what she had to do.
As soon as I left the house, she packed her bags, grabbed our son and walked out.
She sent me one short message, then blocked my number:
I wont carry this burden alone any longer.
Later that evening I stormed back, furious.
Either you come back, or Ill file for divorce!
Poppy smiled faintly.
Go ahead. I was about to.
For the first time I looked lost.
She didnt wait for an apology. Her decision was set.
A month later our divorce was finalised. I never apologised.
And Poppy?
She never regretted leaving.
Six months on, I learned the news.
Margaret had died.
And Lucy?
She threw me out without a hint of remorse.
Only then did I realise what Id lost.
Id lost everything.
