Mary pauses at the fridge, clutching a couple of shopping bags. Ian walks in from work without a kiss or a greeting.
Hi, love, she manages, trying to stay calm. I bought the sausage that was on sale. Were a bit short on cash at the moment.
Youre short? Ian raises his voice. We can barely keep the lights on, and youre spending on nonsense!
What nonsense? Mary feels a hot sting of hurt. I only buy what we need.
Ian waves his hand and stalks into the bedroom. Mary stays in the kitchen, hands gripping the bag handles. Theyve been married eight years, and for the past three months the arguments have multipliedshe cooks the wrong way, puts things in the wrong place, spends a little too much. He never used to be this nitpicky.
She starts putting the groceries on the shelves, trembling. Tears bubble up, but she forces them down. She has to finish dinner; Katie, their nineyearold daughter, will be home from school any minute and must not see her crying.
That evening they eat in silence. Katie senses the tension, finishes her soup quickly and asks to do her homework.
Go on, sunshine, Mary says, kissing Katie on the top of her head.
When Katie leaves, Ian finally speaks.
I need to visit my mum this weekend. Shes not feeling well.
Okay, Mary nods. Should I come with you?
No, Ill go alone. Stay home, theres plenty to do.
Mary wants to argue, but she stays quiet. In recent months she has learned to shut up. They used to discuss everything, argue, make up. Now a wall seems to have risen between them.
On Saturday Ian leaves early. Mary tackles the choreslaundry, cleaning, cooking lunch. The routine feels heavier than ever; every movement is a strain, a knot of anxiety sits in her chest.
Katie plays in her room while Mary tidies the bedroom. She opens a window to let in fresh air and hears voices on the balcony. Shes about to shut the window when she recognises Ians tone.
Ian stands on the balcony of his mothers flat. Their motherinlaw, Nora, lives in the adjoining block on the same floor. Mary had once liked the proximity, thinking it convenient, but now shes uneasy.
Mum, I cant take this any more, Ian says, his voice sounding weary.
Son, you must be firm, Nora replies. A wife should know her place.
Mary freezes, unable to look away from the window.
She doesnt understand a thing, Ian continues. I tell her one thing, she does another.
Thats exactly why, Nora says, youre too soft with her. You need to keep her in check.
Ian sighs. I cant keep shouting at her.
What you need is to be stricter. Make her see youre the head of the house, or shell run away from you.
A chill runs down Marys spine. Run away? She works from dawn till night, cooks, cleans, raises Katie, and still parttimes at the local library to bring a little extra into the household. Run away?
Im trying, Mum, Ian exhales. But sometimes I feel sorry for her.
Pity isnt a help, Nora says sharply. Youre the man, the familys head. If youre soft, shell sit on your neck. All women are like that.
Thats not true
It is! I raised you well, youre kind and caring, but thats a weakness at home. You must keep your wife under control.
Mary steps back from the window, legs wobbling. She sits on the bed, the room humming like a badly tuned vacuum.
It isnt Ian whos changed; its Nora shaping him. Mary remembers the week Nora stayed with them four months ago. After that visit Ian became a different man.
She recalls how he began driving to his mums more often, how each visit left him colder and more demanding, how he started nagging about tiny things that never bothered him before.
Mom, are you crying? Katie asks, standing in the doorway, eyes wide.
Tears have already slipped down Marys cheeks. She wipes them quickly.
No, love, just a little irritationmaybe dust.
Really?
Yes, Mary forces a smile. Go on, play a bit longer. Ill have lunch ready soon.
When Katie leaves, Mary sits on the bed again, wondering what to do. Should she confront Ian? Tell him she overheard? That would spark another fight; hed accuse her of spying and distance himself further. Stay silent? But how can she live knowing Nora is turning him against her?
The rest of the day blurs. Mary cooks lunch mechanically, tasting nothing, chatting with Katie without really hearing her.
Ian returns in the evening, drops his keys on the hall table.
Dinner ready? he asks instead of a hello.
Just heating it up, Mary replies, putting the pan on the stove. Her hands move on autopilot while Noras words echo in her head: keep her in check, dont be soft.
Something wrong? Ian asks, sitting down. Youre different.
Everythings fine, she says, plating his food. Just a bit tired.
Here we go again, he mutters. Always tired. What do you do all day, just sit at home?
I dont sit at home, Mary says quietly. I work at the library.
Library, huh? Parttime, pennies.
At least I earn something. Did you ever forbid me from working?
I never did. I just dont see the point. You should be keeping the house spotless.
Mary clenches her teeth, reminding herself not to let the argument explode, not in front of Katie.
Later, after Katie is asleep, Mary sits in the kitchen with a cooling cup of tea while Ian watches television in the living room. They have become strangers sharing a flat.
She thinks back to how they met at twentythree. Mary was a shop assistant in a bookshop; Ian came in looking for a gift for a friend. They chatted, he invited her for coffee, then dates, walks, laughter. He was attentive, gentle, caring.
Even then, Ians mother, Nora, had made it clear she didnt like her daughterinlaw, claiming Mary was from a modest background and uneducated. Ian brushed it off, saying he loved Mary and that was enough.
They married despite Noras objections, had Katie, endured sleepless nights, child illnesses, tight finances. Ian was the rock.
Then Nora started visiting more often, calling Ian several times a day, inviting him over. He began going, staying, returning with a different attitude.
The next day Mary decides to talk to Nora, not to fight but to discuss. She knocks on Noras door.
Come in, Nora says, surprised.
The flat is furnished with a mix of old furniture, lace tablecloths, family photos of Ian at various agesnone of Mary or Katie.
Tea? Nora offers.
No, thanks. I wont stay long.
They sit at the kitchen table. Nora watches Mary expectantly.
I wanted to talk about us and Ian, Mary begins. Youve probably noticed things havent been smooth lately.
I have, Nora replies. Ian tells me.
Im asking if you could stop interfering in our marriage.
Interfering? Hes my son. I have the right to be interested in his life.
Interest is one thing, but steering him against me is another.
What do you mean? Noras voice turns cold.
I heard you on the balcony yesterday.
Silence hangs. Noras face pales then flushes.
You were eavesdropping?
I didnt mean to. I was just airing the room and heard you saying I should keep her in iron gloves.
And what of it? Nora snaps. I was telling the truth. Shes too soft, shes let things slip.
I work from dawn till night! I care for the family, raise our daughter, and still parttime at the library. Is that too much?
Yes, then why is the house always a mess? Why is Ian so thin? Why do you work at a library? A woman belongs in the kitchen.
We dont live in the 1950s!
Thats why families fall apart today. Women forget their purpose, want careers, independence, and end up with unhappy husbands and neglected children.
Katie isnt neglected! I give her all my time!
Please, Ive seen how you rush around, youre always on edge. A child needs a calm mother.
Realising the conversation is stuck, Mary stands.
Fine. Know that I wont give up. This is my family and Ill fight for it.
Oh, how fierce you are, Nora smirks. Dont forget Ian is my son. Hell always listen to me, not you.
Mary leaves, tears finally breaking free as she reaches her flat. She sits at the kitchen table and sobs until the tears stop.
That night Ian comes home, looking grim.
You were at your mothers? he asks.
Yes.
Why?
I wanted to talk.
He sighs.
She called me a nag. I told her I wasnt.
She just gives advice.
Igor I mean Ian you really dont see whats happening? Shes turning you against me!
Its nonsense, he shrugs. Mum just wants me happy.
Are you happy? Mary looks him in the eye. Be honest.
He hesitates, then says, Im tiredtired of the constant complaints, the tears, the fights.
Then lets try to change things, like before.
It cant be like before, he says, walking to his room.
Mary stands in the kitchen, for the first time in years wondering if they should stay together at all.
That night she cant sleep, staring at the ceiling while Ian lies turned away, as cold as an iceberg.
In the morning Ian leaves for work without a goodbye. Mary drives Katie to school and heads to the library. Her manager, Alison, notices her mood.
Whats wrong? Alison asks.
Mary spills the whole storyoverheard balcony, Noras visits, Ians change.
Alison listens, then says, Men are more susceptible to mothers influence than you think. Your Ian is a mothers boy, clearly.
What if it wasnt like this before?
Before you lived apart. Now the mother lives close and can pull the strings. Shes using that.
What should I do?
First, dont give up. Second, try to win Ian back by reminding him of who you were. Third, think about yourselfare you ready to keep fighting for someone who wont fight for you?
Those words stay with Mary all day. She recalls the early days, the flowers, the compliments, the hospital moments, the night Ian held her hand as Katie was born. Somewhere inside the cold man still lives the Ian she loved. She just needs to reach him.
That evening she prepares his favourite fried potatoes with mushrooms sets the table, lights candles.
Ian walks in, stops at the doorway, surprised.
Whats this?
Dinner, Mary smiles. Shall we eat together, like before?
He sits, she serves him the potatoes, pours tea.
Remember our first summer trip to the lake? You almost drowned trying to show off your swimming.
Ian chuckles. You scolded me for an hour after that.
Yes, I was scared youd disappear.
They reminisce a little, Ian even laughs a few times. Mary feels a flicker of hope.
The phone rings. Ian looks at the screen.
Mum, he says, stepping into the hallway.
Mary hears fragments: Yes, Mum No, its fine Youre right I understand
He returns, face closed again.
I have to go to Mums. She feels unwell.
Its evening now.
Yes, its urgent.
He leaves without finishing his meal. Mary sits at the table, the candles guttering, tears dripping into the dish, but she doesnt wipe them away.
Katie appears from her room.
Mum, why are you crying?
Just because, love. Go to bed.
Did you argue with Dad?
No, everythings fine.
Katie, ever perceptive, hugs her.
Dont cry. I love you.
I love you too, darling, very much.
Ian returns late, looking tired.
Hows Mum? Mary asks.
Her blood pressure spiked.
Ian, we need to talkseriously.
Its not a good time. Im exhausted.
When then? We barely talk at all!
Hell talk tomorrow.
But tomorrow never arrives. Ian goes to work, returns late, spends the weekend at his mothers, then back to work, then another weekend at the mothers. Mary realizes this cant continue.
She writes Ian a long message, saying she loves him but cant live under constant tension, that his mother is tearing the family apart, that something must change or theyll lose each other.
Ian reads it but doesnt reply. That night he comes home sullen.
I read your message, he says. Youre dramatising.
Dramatising? We dont even speak normally! You pick fights over everything! Were strangers!
Because you wont change! Mums right, youre stubborn and headstrong. You dont listen to anyone.
I dont listen to your mother because she hates me! She wants to break our marriage!
Shes trying to help!
Then why do you become a different person after every talk with her?
Ian falls silent, looks at her long.
Maybe I am changing. Maybe Mum is showing me things I ignored.
What things?
That Im not the perfect wifehouse a mess, food bland, Im always dissatisfied.
Mary feels something snap inside. He really sees only flaws.
Fine, she says quietly. If thats how you feel, maybe you should look for a perfect wife.
Ian pales.
What are you saying?
Im saying Im tired. Tired of fighting, proving myself, justifying everything. If Im that bad, why do you stay?
He flinches.
Dont say nonsense.
Its not nonsense, its reality, Mary replies. Think about it. Im going to bed.
She retreats to the bedroom, shuts the door, lies down, feeling a huge weight lift as she finally voices what shes held in.
The next morning Ian leaves for work without a word. Mary drives Katie to school and meets her old friend, Sue, from school.
Good heavens, you look awful! Sue exclaims as she opens the door. Whats happened?
Mary recounts everything. Sue listens, shaking her head.
You know what? Ian needs a proper wakeup call. Hes grown too comfortable with you always being there, always tolerating. He needs to see life without you.
How?
Go away for a few days. Stay with your parents, for example. Let him cook, clean, get the kids to school. Maybe then hell appreciate what you do.
Mary hesitates, wondering if thats blackmail.
It isnt blackmail, Sue says, reading her thoughts. Its a way to make him realise youre not a piece of furniture. Hell have to think.
That same day Mary calls her parents, who live three hours away by train. Her mother immediately agrees to take her and Katie.
Come on over, love. Well be happy to have you.
Mary packs, tells Katie theyre going to grandmas for a holiday. Katie cheers. Mary sends Ian a brief text: Were off to my parents for a week. You have time to think. I need the same. She hits send and turns off her phone. She takes Katies hand and they leave the flat.
On the train Katie falls asleep, head on Marys shoulder. Mary watches the countryside roll by, wondering about the future. Will Ian come back? Can he stand up to his mother? Or is the marriage doomed?
At the station her parents greet them. Her mother hugs her, asking, Everything alright?
Later, Mary whispers.
That night, after Katie is asleep, Mary tells her parents everything. Her father listens, his face darkening.
I should go talk to that lad, he mutters.
Dad, no, her mother says. Its our problem.
Its ours, her mother adds. Youre my daughter, so were involved.
Mary smiles through tears, grateful for family. She stays with them for three days, no phone, no worries. She walks with Katie, helps her mother with chores, chats with her father.
On the fourth day she checks her phone. Thirty missed calls from Ian, a dozen messages. At first angry, then increasingly confused.
Where are you?
Why arent you answering?
Im worried!
Please let us know youre okay.
Mary, Im sorry. We need to talk.
The last one arrived an hour ago: I miss you and Katie. Come home, please.
She dials his number. Ian answers after the first ring.
Mary! Thank God! Where are you?
At my parents place. Alls fine.
Why didnt youShe chose to go back home, determined to face Ian and his mother together and rebuild the life they had once cherished.
