Natalie’s motherinlaw, Mrs. Rachel Stevens, throws my food away in front of everyone.
Are you really putting little Michael in that thin sweater again? Its cold outside!
Mum, its plus fifteen. He wont freeze.
He wont freeze! You young people dont understand anything! A child must be dressed warmly!
Natalie stands in the hallway watching Mrs. Stevens strip the light cardigan off her grandson and pull a thick jumper over his head. The boy protests, whines, but his grandmother is relentless.
Mum, hell be hot, Natalie tries to argue.
Better hot than catching a cold! Mrs. Stevens pulls the jumper tight, nodding approvingly. Thats right. Go on, enjoy your walk.
Natalie bites her lip, refusing to say more. She grabs Michaels hand and leaves her motherinlaws flat. They live on the floor above, and Mrs. Stevens feels its her duty to monitor every move Natalie makes.
Natalie married David four years ago. At first they rented a flat of their own. When Michael was born, David suggested moving into his parents housemore space and a helping hand from Grandma. Natalie agreed and immediately regretted it.
Mrs. Stevens interferes with everything: how to feed the baby, how to clothe him, how to get him to sleep. Natalie has no say; any opinion she offers is instantly dismissed.
Youre young and inexperienced. Ive raised three children, I know best, the motherinlaw declares.
David usually stays quiet, saying his mother is just caring and that Natalie shouldnt take it seriously. But Natalie feels like a servant, not the lady of the house.
The kitchen becomes the worst battlefield. Mrs. Stevens prides herself on being a superb cook and rejects any other method.
You must make the stew with smoked ribs! What did you add?
The meatballs need a rind of pork! Yours are as dry as a shoe sole!
The pie dough should rest three hours, not one!
At first Natalie argues, trying to prove her ways work too, but the matriarch never listens. Eventually she stops cooking altogetherwhats the point if everything she makes is criticised?
This time she decides to act. Tomorrow is the birthday of her fatherinlaw, Peter Stevens. Natalie wants to show she can cook, so she rises early while everyone sleeps and gets to work.
She prepares a shrimp saladPeters favouriteroasts a chicken with vegetables, and bakes an apple cake from her own mothers recipe. She pours her heart into every dish.
By lunchtime the kitchen smells delicious. Peter walks out of his bedroom, inhaling the aroma.
Oh, that looks wonderful! Natalie, youve done all this?
Yes, Peter. Happy birthday!
Thank you, dear! Peter is kind, unlike his wife. He always defends Natalie when Mrs. Stevens starts picking her apart.
Mrs. Stevens emerges from the hallway, face twisted in disapproval.
What are those smells this morning?
Mum, Natalie made this for my birthday, Peter smiles.
Mrs. Stevens moves to the kitchen. Natalie stands at the stove, plating the chicken. The motherinlaw walks over to the table where the dishes are displayed. She lifts the lid off the salad bowl, sniffs, and grimaces.
Whats this?
Shrimp salad, Natalie turns. Peter loves it.
Shrimp? Mrs. Stevens scowls. He gets heartburn from shrimp!
But he told me he liked them
He never said that! she snaps, setting the bowl down. And whats this?
Roast chicken with veg.
She opens the oven, pokes the chicken with a fork.
Dry. Overcooked.
Mum, it just came out of the oven, David interjects, entering the kitchen. Let us try it.
No need to try, I can see it, Mrs. Stevens slams the oven shut. And whats that horror of a cake?
Its an apple cake, Natalie feels a lump rise in her throat. I used my mothers recipe.
Your mothers, Mrs. Stevens huffs. Your mother cant cook. The apple doesnt fall far from the tree.
Natalie clenches her fists. My mother is a great cook! she thinks.
My mother cooks perfectly!
Sure, she taught you, the matriarch retorts, grabbing the shrimp bowl and marching it toward the bin.
What are you doing? Natalie lunges forward.
Throwing it away. No one will eat it anyway.
In front of everyone, Mrs. Stevens empties the salad into the trash. Natalie freezes. She spent time buying fresh, pricey shrimp, arranging everything beautifully, only to watch it disappear.
Mum, what are you doing? David steps in. Why did you throw it away?
Because Peter gets heartburn from shrimp! I know whats good for him!
David, Id love a bite, Peter says. Why toss it?
Dont argue with me! Mrs. Stevens turns to her son. Ive cared for you for thirty years, I know what harms you!
Natalie watches the trash, tears threatening, but she refuses to cry in front of this woman. She turns and leaves the kitchen, heads to the bedroom, closes the door, and finally lets the tears flow.
How could she? she wonders, just throw it away, publicly, humiliating me.
The bedroom door opens quietly. David walks in.
Natalie, dont cry. Mum is just overreacting.
Overreacting? Natalie lifts her tearstreaked face. She threw my food away, in front of everyone!
Well she does worry about Peters heartburn. He does get it sometimes.
Shrimp? He told me he loves them!
Maybe he liked them before, but not now.
Natalie looks at David. He always sides with his mother, never defending her.
Why do you always defend her?
Im not defending her. I just understand. She wants to control everything.
And my feelings? Dont they matter?
Of course they do, David sits beside her. But dont take it to heart. She treats everyone like that.
David, she doesnt respect me at all. Im nothing to her.
Thats not true.
It is! She calls me foolish, incompetent! Everything I do is wrong!
David stays silent.
Lets not fight. Its a celebration, Peters birthday. Come sit with us.
Natalie shakes her head.
I dont want to.
Natalie
Ill just stay here and pretend Im ill.
David sighs, gets up, and leaves. Natalie stays alone on the bed, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts swirling. She decides she wont tolerate this any longer.
That evening, when everyone has gone to bed, Natalie returns to the kitchen. The roast chicken and apple cake sit untouched. Mrs. Stevens has made her own dinnerfried chips and meatballs. Everyone eats her food; none of Natalies dishes are tried, except for Peter, who sneaks a bite of the cake, winks, and says, Delicious, thanks, dear.
Natalie clears the table, washes the dishes. Mrs. Stevens lounges in the living room, watching TV, never offering help, as if the chores are Natalies duty. When Natalie finishes, David appears.
Natalie, Mum wants to speak with you.
About what?
I dont know. She said shes in the lounge.
Natalie wipes her hands and walks to the lounge. Mrs. Stevens turns the TV off and faces her.
Sit down.
Natalie perches on the edge of the sofa, feeling the matriarchs stare.
I want you to understand one thing. This is my house, my rules. If you want to stay, youll do exactly as I say.
Natalie stays silent.
Im the one who cooks here. Got it? No more of your shrimp experiments.
I just wanted to make Peter happy.
Happy means obeying your motherinlaw, not running your own kitchen.
Mrs. Stevens, Im also a member of this family. I have a right to cook.
Mrs. Stevens smirks.
A family member? You live on my groceries. I feed you, wash for you, and you sit at home with the baby.
I look after him!
Look after him. I worked while raising my own children. All you do is complain.
Natalie leaps up.
Im not complaining! I just want respect!
Respect must be earned, Mrs. Stevens says, standing as well. What have you done for me? Nothing but whining.
Natalie turns and leaves the room, unable to listen any longer. She heads to the bedroom where David lies awake.
David, we need to move out.
He looks surprised.
Move where?
Find a flat. I cant live here any longer.
We dont have the money for a rental.
Well find it. Ill get a job.
What about Michael?
Well put him in nursery.
Natalie, be realistic. My salary barely covers our bills. If we rent somewhere, therell be nothing left.
So I just stay with your mother forever?
Shes not that bad
Mum! Natalie raises her voice. She threw my salad away, in front of everyone! She humiliated me!
Maybe she overreacted, but its not worth a scandal,
David watches his phone, oblivious to her pain.
You always take her side.
Im not taking her side. I just dont see the point in fighting.
My opinion doesnt matter?
It matters, but lets be adults. Hang on a little longer. Ill get a bonus in six months, well save and move.
Six months feels like an eternity, but there truly is no money for a new place. Michael is still a toddler who needs care.
The next morning, Mrs. Stevens acts as if nothing happened, commanding breakfast, ordering Natalie around. Natalie eats quietly, avoiding eye contact.
Later, Natalies mother calls.
Natalie, love, how was the birthday?
Natalie steps onto the balcony, speaking low.
Mum, its terrible.
What happened?
She explains the tossed salad and the argument.
Darling, why are you putting up with that? Move out!
We have no money.
Maybe I can help? My father and I could
No, Mum. Youre barely getting by yourselves.
But shes humiliating you!
I know. David promised wed move in six months.
Her mother pauses.
Have you thought about getting a parttime job? Even a few hours would bring in some cash and give you a break from her.
What about Michael?
Theres a nursery nearby. Hes three now, perfect age.
Mum, Davids mother objects to nursery. She says its unhealthy.
All children get sick sometimes, thats normal. Hell make friends, develop.
Hell be fine.
Natalie nods, considering. She decides she must talk to David that night.
When Michael is asleep, Natalie brings up the idea.
David, I want to start working.
David looks up from his laptop.
Work? Why?
So we have money sooner, so we can move out.
What about Michael?
Well put him in the nursery. Hes three, thats the right age.
David frowns.
Mum says nursery is bad, kids get ill.
Kids get ill everywhere. Hell be social, itll help him.
Mum will argue.
Let her not. This is our child, our decision!
David stays silent a moment.
Fine. Lets try. Just keep it from Mum for now.
Natalie agrees. The next day she registers Michael at the local nursery; theres a waiting list, but they promise a place in a month.
A month later she lands a parttime admin job at a small firm, nine to three, which lets her pick Michael up after school. She tells Mrs. Stevens the news.
Im starting work on Monday.
Mrs. Stevens looks up from her pot.
Work? And Michael?
In nursery.
Who decided that?
David and I.
You didnt even ask me?
Its our decision.
Mrs. Stevens throws a wooden spoon against the sink.
Your decision! Sending the child to nursery and you going to work! What kind of mother are you?
A normal mother. Many women work and send their kids to nursery.
Many! she steps closer. I never did that! I stayed home, raised my children!
I want to earn money.
Earn? Can your husband afford it?
He can, but I also want independence.
Independence? You think the child isnt important?
He is important! I just think nursery wont hurt him.
It will! Infections, bad influences!
This is my decision, Natalie says firmly. Im working, period.
Mrs. Stevens turns red.
David! Come here!
David walks in.
Whats happening?
Your wife is sending the child to nursery and going to work!
Mum, we discussed this. Natalie wants to work, thats fine.
Fine? You gave her permission?
Yes.
Without asking me?
Mum, its our matter.
Mrs. Stevens glares at David, then storms out of the kitchen, slamming the bedroom door behind her. David embraces Natalie.
Dont worry. Shell calm down.
For a week Mrs. Stevens refuses to speak to Natalie, cooking only for herself and Peter. David and Natalie are forced to do all the other meals. Natalie doesnt mind; finally she can cook what she likes without criticism.
On Monday Natalie starts work, Michael goes to nursery, and the transition is smooth. The nursery staff says Michael is cheerful, making friends, loving the new routine.
At work the colleagues are friendly, the boss fair. Natalie feels useful; the pay is modest but hers. She saves every penny.
Three months later they have saved enough for a deposit on a small twobedroom flat on the outskirts of Leeds. They sign the tenancy agreement, pay the first months rent, and start planning how to tell the parents.
David drags his feet, fearing his mothers reaction, but the move is due in a week.
That evening after dinner, he gathers everyone in the living room.
Mum, Dad. We need to talk.
Mrs. Stevens looks up, wary.
About what?
Natalie and I are moving out. Weve got a flat.
Silence hangs. Mrs. Stevens slowly places her teacup down.
Moving out?
Yes. We need our own space.
Your own space? she repeats, echoing. So youre ungrateful! Ive fed you, washed for you, looked after Michael! And youre leaving?
Mum, were grateful, but were adults. We need our own home.
Its all her fault! she points at Natalie. Shes the one who changed everything!
Mum, thats my decision.
No, its hers! Shes been trying to take over from the start!
Peter Stevens stands up.
Rachel, calm down. The young couple are right. They need their own life.
Dont interfere! Rachel shouts at her husband. You dont care, I do!
She storms off to the bedroom, closing the door hard. Peter sighs.
Dont hold a grudge, Rachel. Shes doing whats best for them.
Yes, of course, he pats David on the shoulder. Just make sure you visit on weekends.
Natalie smiles gratefully.
A week later they move into the modest flat. Rachel never says goodbye, staying hidden in her bedroom. Peter helps carry some boxes, wishes them well.
The new flat is small but cosy. Natalie decorates it with joy, finally feeling like the lady of her own home. She cooks the meals she loves, cleans how she prefers, and no one criticises her.
David relaxes without the constant supervision, becoming lighter, happier. Their relationship returns to the closeness they had at the start.
Michael enjoys his own bedroom, his toys, and his nursery friends.
Rachel doesnt call. Shes still angry, but Peter calls regularly, asking how theyre getting on, saying his wife misses them but respects their choice.
Six months pass and Natalie is comfortable in her independent life, unable to imagine how she once endured her motherinlaws control.
One weekend David suggests a visit to his parents.
Natalie, lets see them. Its still my mother.
Alright, Natalie agrees.
They arrive midday. Peter opens thePeter opens the door, greets them warmly, and Rachel, standing stiffly by the fireplace, offers a tentative smile as they step inside.
