Emily Clarke sat at the kitchen table, watching silently as Margaret Hughes brandished a knife, slicing apples for an apple crumble while chatting animatedly. The bridetobe paid no heed. It had been a month since Margaret moved in, and Emily was at her wits end. Her marriage to James Turner had been happy for five years, yet lately she wondered whether she had erred in marrying her motherinlaws son.
Emily, you arent listening to me at all! Margaret snapped, pausing her story and pursing her lips. Im saying James needs a new job. His firm is a joke! I spoke to a friend who will take him into her building company. The pay is better and the prospects brighter. He could be promoted within a year, and you could stay at home.
Mrs. Hughes, Emily inhaled deeply, fighting irritation, James chooses his own career. Hes an adult.
Of course hes an adult, but youre his wife! You must steer him, advise him! All that design work and those sketches thats not a mans business! the motherinlaw fumed.
James was an architectdesigner and, Emily thought, a very good one. His firm is reputable, and he loves his work, she said, her patience fraying.
Loves it? Margaret waved her hands. And the money? Hes paid peanuts! What about children? Youll have to raise themwhat will you teach them?
Were not planning children yet, Emily replied softly, though the subject had come up many times. We have enough money for now.
Not planning? Margaret set the knife down and turned toward her daughterinlaw. I knew it! Five years of marriage and no kids! I was raising James when I was your age!
Emily fell silent. She wanted childrenvery muchbut not now; she had just defended her doctoral thesis and secured a senior lecturer post. She and James had agreed to wait three years before thinking about a family, giving her time to establish herself in academia.
Assuming Emilys silence meant consent, Margaret pressed on. My friend Lucy has already had three children, and her husband, a builder, put a solid roof over their heads.
Mrs. Hughes, Emily tried again, James and I will decide our own path. I respect you, but
What do you mean decide ourselves? Margaret protested. Im his mother; I know whats best for him and for you. Youre still young and inexperienced. A mother never gives bad advice.
Emily shook her head and left the kitchen. Arguing was futile. She went upstairs to the modest, cosy house they had bought two years earlier with a mortgage, lay on the bed and closed her eyes. She was exhaustedlecturing, grading, and Margarets constant nagging drained her.
That evening James returned, looking tired but pleased. Guess what? Theyve made me lead designer on a new project! he announced, kissing Emily.
Congratulations, love! she beamed.
Mom, what project? How much will they pay? Margaret sprang into the conversation.
Its a highend residential development, James said, buoyant. The salary will rise, of course.
By how much? the mother pressed.
Mom, its not important. Were fine, James replied, a hint of irritation in his tone.
Fine? What about the mortgage? The car? Your current car looks ready to fall apart! Margaret persisted. Sophies son
Im not Sophies son, James cut in. Lets just have dinner.
During the meal Margaret resumed her moralising. James mostly stayed quiet, while Emily felt a growing knot of irritation. After dinner, alone in their bedroom, Emily could hold back no longer.
James, I cant take this any longer! Your mother is interfering in everythingyour work, our plans, our lives! When is she leaving?
Emily, she just wants whats best. You know shes always like that, James sighed.
I know, but its one thing when she visits for the weekend, another when she lives with us fulltime!
Its only temporary, he tried to soothe her. Shes renovating her flat.
How long does a onebedroom flat take to refurbish? A month already passed!
Your mother likes everything perfect. Bear with it a bit longer, okay?
Emily nodded; there was no point in kicking Margaret out. Patience was wearing thin.
The next morning, as Emily prepared for work, Margaret appeared on the bedroom doorway.
Emily, I need to talk, she said, perching on the edge of the bed.
Im in a rush. Maybe this evening? Emily tried to dodge.
No, its urgent, Margaret insisted. You should quit your job.
What? Why? Emily froze, hairbrush in hand.
Because you need to have children! You cant keep putting it off. I spoke to James yesterday; he also wants a baby.
James? Emilys heart quickened. Did he actually say that?
Not outright, but I can see it. Hes my son; I know his dreams, Margaret replied, confident.
Emily set the brush down and faced her motherinlaw. I appreciate your concern, truly. But James and I have already decided to wait three years. This isnt the right time.
Three years? When will you be forty? My son married at twentytwo and it was perfect! Margaret scoffed.
I know you raised James at my age, but times have changed, Emily said.
Exactly! Once, family came first; now everyone chases a career! Wheres the family? Wheres the children? Margaret exclaimed.
Emily glanced at the clock. I must go, she said firmly. Well continue this tonight with James.
The day passed in a blur of lectures, tutorials, and department meetings. Yet a lingering anxiety gnawed at Emilywhat if Margaret was right? What if James truly wanted a child now but hid it?
When they returned home, Margaret had prepared a festive dinner and announced, Were having a family council tonight!
Emily braced herself. Over wine, Margaret declared, Ive spoken to Helen Brooks, and she wants to hire James in her construction firm as head of the design department. The salary is double what he earns now!
James choked on his glass. Mom, what are you talking about?
Its a brilliant opportunityhead of the design team! Youre an architect, after all. The pay is twice as much, Margaret gushed, sliding a stack of papers across the table.
Im happy where I am, James said firmly, pushing the papers away.
But you must think of the future! How will we raise children on your current salary? Margaret pressed.
We have no children yet, James reminded her.
Exactly! Thats why we need to plan! Margaret turned to Emily. Youre thinking of quitting, arent you?
What? No! Emily shouted. I never said that!
But we discussed it this morning! Margaret acted surprised. You said youd consider my offer!
I said wed talk about it later tonight, Emily corrected. And were not quitting. Well have children in three years, as agreed.
James nodded, looking upset. Emily wondered if Margarets insistence was justified.
Three years? Youre already thirty! In three more youll be thirtythreetoo late! Margaret exclaimed.
Many people have children after thirty, James replied calmly. I love my work and I love you. Well decide together.
The point is, Margaret said, I want the best for you both. I want grandchildren.
We understand, Mom, but this is our life, James answered, his voice steady. Well choose when the time is right.
The dinner ended in awkward silence. Margaret withdrew to her room, James sat quietly, and Emily felt a brief flicker of relief.
Later, Emily whispered, James, do you really want a child now?
He looked at her, eyes weary. No, love. Weve planned for three years. Im upset because of your mothers pressure.
Should we talk to her? Emily suggested.
I will, tomorrow. Tonight she wont listen. James agreed.
The next day Margaret behaved as if nothing had happenedmaking breakfast, asking about plans, never mentioning the previous nights argument. Emily wasnt sure whether to be relieved or uneasy.
That evening, Emily returned from work to find Margaret hunched over a laptop, typing furiously.
Good evening, Emily greeted. What are you doing?
Oh, Emily! Margaret jumped, closing the browser. I was just writing to a friend.
Emily spotted the page title: How to convince your children to have a baby. She sighed. Lets talk, Margaret.
What about? the mother feigned surprise.
That youre trying to control our lives, Emily said firmly. Were adults and we make our own decisions.
Control? Margaret protested. Im only helping, giving advice. Im a mother!
Yes, youre Jamess mother, not mine, Emily replied. James and I are capable of deciding for ourselves.
Margaret shook her head. A mother always knows best.
Sometimes, but the decisions belong to us, Emily countered.
James entered, looking troubled. My director called. Someone asked about my salary and prospects.
What? Who? Emily asked.
Apparently a woman asked about me, James said, glancing at Margaret. That was you, wasnt it?
Yes! I wanted to be sure you were alright, Margaret exclaimed, arms flailing. I was just looking out for you.
You called my boss? James asked, stunned. Thats a breach of boundaries.
Its my son! Margaret said, hurt. There are no boundaries between us.
There have to be, James replied calmly, his fists clenched. We deserve a private life.
Your private life? Margaret gasped. Ive raised you all my life!
Yes, Mom. Thats exactly what were talking aboutboundaries, James said firmly. We have decided to have children in three years, and thats final. I wont change jobs just because you think I could earn more. I love my work.
James, I only want the best for you! Margaret protested.
I know, but best is what we decide, not what you assume, James said, pulling her into an embrace. I love you, but you must let us live our own lives.
Margaret began to sob. I just dont want you to make mistakes.
Even if they are mistakes, theyre ours, James said softly. We have the right to learn from them.
Silence fell. Emily looked at James with gratitude; finally he had spoken his truth.
How about a cup of tea? Emily suggested, trying to ease the tension.
Tea sounds good, James agreed.
Margaret nodded, still upset but beginning to understand.
The following morning she announced that her flat was ready and she was returning home. Emily felt a mix of relief and pity. She knew Margaret truly believed she was doing the right thing.
Mrs. Hughes, youre always welcome to visit, Emily said as they said goodbye. Just dont interfere in our decisions.
Ive learned my lesson, Margaret replied, hugging Emily. I only ever wanted what was best.
Emily smiled gently. And we appreciate your care. Sometimes we just need to decide for ourselves.
Margaret left, and the house grew quiet. Emily and James enjoyed the peace of making their own choices, planning their future without outside pressure. Three years later, as they had intended, they welcomed a baby girl named Eleanor. Margaret had to wait a little longer, but when she first held her granddaughter, her eyes shone with joy.
Shes perfect, she whispered. You both chose wisely.
Emily and James exchanged a satisfied glance. Their journey had been tough, but it proved that love and respect for each others autonomy create the strongest families.
Later, over tea, Margaret confessed, Ive learned that being a good mother isnt about knowing whats best for everyone, but about letting people live their own lives.
James smiled. We value your support, Mum.
Emily added, What matters isnt what we hoped for, but what we achieved togethera happy, balanced family.
Thus, they discovered that the healthiest guidance is a gentle hand that steps back, allowing each generation to grow in its own direction.
