Eleanor stared at the flour scattered across the linoleum, trying not to let the tears spill. In the weak glow of the kitchen lamp the white streaks looked like strange snowflakes, but there was no time for poetrythe guests would arrive in an hour and the apple pie was still untouched.
Making a mess again? Marks voice cut in as he stepped into the room. Mothers coming, and youre as always.
Eleanor pressed her lips together.
It wasnt on purpose, Mark. The sack tore.
You always have something breaking, falling, spilling, he snapped, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of sparkling water. Thirtyfive years old and still as clumsy as a child.
She bent down, scooping the flour into a dustpan, swallowing the sting of humiliation. Ten years of this had taught her to swallow tears whole.
Right, Im off to meet mother, Mark glanced at his watch. Have the table set by seven. Try not to embarrass us, alright? Its her anniversary, after all.
The kitchen door slammed shut behind him. Eleanor sank onto a stool, inhaled deeply, and remembered the first time shed met Mark in the library where she worked. He had seemed attentiveshowing up every day, borrowing books she suggested, staying late. Then hed invited her to the theatre, and shed felt like a heroine from a romance: a woman with a child from a previous marriage, swept up by a handsome, independent man. Who could have guessed the fairy tale would dissolve so quickly?
Tom appeared silently, as if summoned by a ghost.
Are you going to fetch it again? he asked, gesturing toward the front door.
Stop it, Eleanor snapped. Youre talking about your stepfather.
The one who treats you like a servant.
She had nothing to argue with; at sixteen Tom saw everything in stark black and white.
Do your homework instead of eavesdropping on adults, she muttered, returning to the cleaning.
Tom grimaced but didnt argue. He rolled up his sleeves and began helping.
Mom, we need to talk, he said seriously. I want to go to London for a programming course after school.
London? Eleanor froze, a cloth still in her hands. But we agreed on the university heretheres a dorm, theres
And Mark, who will keep pestering you at every chance, Tom interrupted, I cant watch that any longer, Mum.
This is adult life, Tom. Families have their quirks, Eleanor tried to soothe.
Its not a family, Mum. Its He waved his hand and fled the kitchen.
By the time the guests arrived, Eleanor had managed to tidy the mess, set the table, and bake a perfect apple pieher small triumph. Margaret Whitmore, a tall woman in an elegant dress, inspected the spread with a critical eye but said nothing. That alone felt like a victory.
Please, sit, Margaret, Eleanor hurried. Alice and James will be here any moment.
Margaret lowered herself into a chair, fixing her silverthreaded hair.
And wheres your boy? she asked, as if speaking of a pet.
Toms in his room, Ill fetch him.
Studying, is it? What good is that? Hell end up with his fathers hands, never doing anything useful, she sneered.
Eleanor held her tongue. Margaret often dismissed her late husband as if shed never met him. Insulting the dead felt improper, yet she dared not contradict her motherinlaw.
The doorbell rang, relieving Eleanor of the need to answer. Alice and her husband James, Marks sister and a successful businessman, entered. Jamess presence always made Mark visibly tense.
Happy birthday, Mum! Alice threw her arms around Margaret. You look stunning! No one would guess youre sixty!
Margarets face lit up. Alice always knew the right words.
Eleanor, James kissed her hand, you look lovely. New haircut?
Yes, thank you, Eleanor replied shyly, catching Marks displeased glance.
Mark began pouring champagne, deliberately ignoring Tom, who stood off to the side.
To the birthday girl! he proclaimed. To the most wonderful mother in the world!
And to Grandma! Alice added. By the way surprise for you, Mum.
What surprise? Margaret asked, wary.
A baby on the way for us! Alice announced proudly.
Margaret clapped her hands, tears of joy spilling over. James beamed. Mark forced a smile.
Congratulations, Eleanor whispered. Thats wonderful news.
Why arent you having children yourself? Margaret blurted, turning to Eleanor. Marks almost forty and has no kids of his own. Only a stepchild in the house.
Silence fell. Eleanor felt a strange colour wash over her face.
Dont you think weve discussed this? Mark muttered through clenched teeth.
What did we discuss? That your wife builds a career in a library? Margaret huffed. All my grandsons mothers are nannies, and Im left staring at your Tom. If only youd have a polite boy
Margaret! Eleanor finally snapped. Tom is right here.
And Im lying? Margaret turned to her grandson. Always tucked away in your corner, never speaking. London, you say? For what, fancy nonsense?
Eleanor stared at Tom, stunned that his motherinlaw knew his plans.
Ill earn it myself, Tom said calmly. Ive already found a remote job, building websites.
What websites? Mark interjected. You should be studying properly, not fiddling with nonsense.
Its not nonsense, its my future profession, Tom replied firmly. The pays decent.
Who gave you permission? Mark raised his voice. You live under my roof, you follow my rules!
Your roof, your rules Tom murmured. Im not even your son, so I dont have to obey.
Marks face flushed.
Exactly! Not my son! Never will be!
Mark! Eleanor shouted. Stop this at once!
What did I say? Mark spread his arms. The truth! Ive fed him for ten years, clothed him, and all he does is stare at his computer. Now he wants to run off to London behind my back!
Behind your back? Tom smirked. I dont care about your opinion. Youre nothing to me.
Tom! Eleanor, desperate, looked from son to husband. James, please, not today. Margarets birthday.
No, nows perfect! Mark persisted. Ive tolerated your creature for a decade, and now I must fund his London studies too?
Margaret nodded approvingly, Alice and James stared at their plates, and Tom stood pale but composed.
Ill earn it myself, Tom repeated. I dont need anything from you.
Really? Mark snorted. And the roof over your head? Food? Clothes? All mine! If you want to live like that, then no London! Study here under my watchmy condition.
Eleanor felt something snap inside her. Ten years of tolerating criticism, neglect, and indifference for the sake of stability, for a roof, for Tom. Now Mark was imposing his conditions on her son.
Perhaps its enough, she said quietly. Its Margarets birthday, and weve turned it into a farce.
Its your son who caused the scene, Mark retorted. As always, its his fault. You always protect him! Ungrateful dog and a motherhen. Will you live off my neck forever?
Eleanor rose slowly from the table. The room grew heavy with silence.
I spent thirtyfive years in the library, she said, voice suddenly steady. Two degrees. I never asked you to support my sonwe managed before you.
Is that so? Mark smirked. I hadnt noticed.
Because I didnt want to, Eleanor answered. You needed a docile housemaid, not a wife. I became that, but enough.
What does that mean? Mark asked, frowning.
It means, Eleanor turned to Tom, that Tom and I are leaving.
A tomblike quiet settled over the room.
Youre out of your mind? Mark finally asked. Where are you going?
First to my sisters, Eleanor replied calmly. Then well find a flat. Ill get a better job. Maybe even in London.
Tom looked at his mother with awe, seeing a side of her hed never known.
Nonsense, Mark laughed nervously. Youll starve. How will you afford a flat?
Thats no longer my worry, Eleanor said. By the way, Im not just a librarian; Im the head of the department, and my salary is respectable. You never bothered to ask.
Dont you dare! Mark snapped. You heard? We have a careerwoman here!
Your mother heard enough, James interjected. And perhaps thats enough. Its your mothers anniversary, not a circus.
Why are you interfering? Mark barked. Mind your own family!
Which family? James shook his head. The way you treat your wife and stepson is unspeakable.
James, stop, Alice tried, but it was too late.
Enough, Alice, James said firmly. Ive watched this nightmare for ten years. Mark, youve become a tyrant. If Eleanor is leaving, thats the best she can do.
Margaret gasped in outrage. How dare you! My son does everything for them, and they
Mom, Alice cut in softly. James is right. Look at whats happening. Its terrible.
Eleanor, without waiting for the argument to spiral, slipped out of the room, Tom trailing behind. In the bedroom she hastily opened a suitcase, packing the essentials.
Youre serious? Tom asked, eyes wide.
More than, Eleanor nodded. Grab your things. Were going.
But we we cant just leave. We need money, a place
I have savings, she said, pulling a small tin box from a wardrobesomething Mark never knew existed. Not a lot, but enough for a start. My sisters been calling for ages, inviting me over. And I have you, my clever boy, who wants to be a programmer. Well manage.
A knock at the door. Alice stood there.
Youre really leaving? she whispered.
Yes, Eleanor answered firmly. Were done with this.
Alice hesitated, then reached into her purse and handed Eleanor an envelope.
Take this. Its from James and me. Weve wanted to help, but were scared Mark would find out.
Alice, I cant
You can, Alice insisted. Youve endured my brothers tantrums for ten years, and my mothers all of it. Forgive us for staying silent. This isnt charity; its restitution for the hurt youve endured.
Eleanor lingered, then took the envelope, gratitude and sorrow mixing.
Thank you, she whispered. And sorry for ruining the celebration.
What celebration? Alice waved her hand. At least now Mark might finally think about his behavior. Though I doubt it.
When Eleanor and Tom emerged from the hallway, the living room was a tableau of tension. Mark sat scowling, Margaret pursed her lips, and James watched with a faint grin.
Were leaving, Eleanor said simply. Thank you for everything, Mark. And sorry if anything went wrong.
Yyou you Mark stood, choking on words.
No dramas, James muttered. Were fed up. Need a ride?
No, thanks, Eleanor shook her head. Well take a taxi.
The door closed behind them, and Eleanor felt an unexpected lightness, as if shed dropped a tenyearheavy backpack. Tom took her hand, just as he used to when she was a child.
Youre amazing, Mum, he whispered. Im proud of you.
Thanks, love, she smiled. Maybe London after allnew city, new life
They descended the stairs and stepped into the courtyard. It was early May; the hawthorn trees exhaled a heady perfume in the twilight.
Eleanors phone buzzed. It was Mark.
Dont answer, Tom said quickly.
Eleanor shook her head and answered.
Yes, Mark?
Come back immediately! he roared. I wont let you go! If you want the child, take him, but stay yourself. Thats my condition!
Eleanor laughed, a sound that had been buried for years, free and bright.
You have no right to set conditions for me any longer, Mark, she said firmly. No conditions. Never.
She hung up, slipped into the waiting taxi, and watched the city drift away as the car rolled toward an unknown future.
Back in the flat on the fourth floor, Mark, furious, hurled his phone at the wall and turned to Margaret, seeking sympathy. She stared at him with a strange new clarity, as if seeing him for the first time.
You really are unbearable, Mark, she finally said. How did I never notice?
She began to weep, not from bitterness but from a sudden awareness of her own failingsraising a selfish son, tolerating a tyrant. Was it too late to make amends?
