15th May
Tonight the kitchen looked like a battlefield. Flour lay scattered across the linoleum, the pale dust catching the weak glow of the overhead bulb and forming odd, snowlike patterns. I hadnt even started the apple crumble that was supposed to be the centrepiece of the evening; the guests would be arriving in an hour and the house was a mess.
Another disaster? I called out as I stepped into the room, trying not to sound too sharp. Mums coming over, and youve turned the kitchen into a war zone, as usual.
Ethel pursed her lips, trying not to let the sting show. It wasnt on purpose, Oliver. The bag tore.
Everything you touch ends up ripped, broken or dropped, I snapped, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of sparkling water. Thirtyfive years old and still as clumsy as a child.
She began scooping the flour back into a bin, quietly swallowing her hurt. Ten years of this have taught her to swallow tears without a sound.
Im off to pick up my mother, I said, glancing at my watch. Make sure the table is set by seven. Try not to embarrass yourself, alright? It is her anniversary after all.
When I shut the door behind me, Ethel sank onto a stool and inhaled deeply. She recalled how we met in the town library where she worked. I used to come in daily, borrowing the books she suggested, lingering long after closing, eventually coaxing her to a theatre performance. She had once felt like the heroine of a romance a single mother with a child from a previous marriage, rescued by a handsome, independent man. Who could have guessed the story would turn sour so quickly?
Our son, Harvey, slipped into the kitchen like a silent spectre.
Did you bring it again? he asked, nodding toward the front door.
Enough, Ethel snapped. Youre talking about your stepfather.
The one who treats you like a servant, he retorted.
Ethel had nothing to argue with; at sixteen Harvey saw everything in stark black and white.
You should be doing your homework, not eavesdropping on adults, she muttered, returning to the cleanup.
Harvey grumbled, rolled up his sleeves and started helping his mother.
Mom, we need to talk, he said seriously. I want to apply to Manchester University for a computing degree after school.
Manchester? I froze, a cloth still in my hand. But we agreed on staying here, with the flat and the?
And me, who keeps nagging you whenever he can, Harvey cut in. I cant watch that any longer, Mum.
This is adult life, I tried to soothe. Families have their ups and downs.
Its not a family, he said, turning and leaving the kitchen.
By the time the guests arrived, Ethel had managed to tidy up, set the table, and even bake a decent apple crumble a modest triumph in her culinary repertoire. My motherinlaw, Margaret Whitcombe, a tall woman in an elegant dress, inspected the spread with a critical eye but said nothing, which I took as a small victory.
Please, sit down, Margaret, Ethel hurried, Harvey and Ill be back shortly.
Margaret eased herself into a chair, smoothing back her silvertinged hair. And wheres the boy? she asked, as if inquiring about a pet.
Harvey is in his room; Ill fetch him, Ethel replied.
The lads still studying, I see, Margaret said, teasing. All that learningwhats the point? Hell end up with his fathers hands.
Ethel stayed silent. Margaret never spoke kindly of my late father, though shed never met him. Insulting a dead man felt indecent, yet she expected deference.
A knock announced the arrival of Olivia and her husband Victor, my sister and her successful businessman partner. Victors presence always seemed to make me more irritable.
Happy birthday, Mum! Olivia exclaimed, wrapping Ethel in a hug. You look stunninghardly sixty!
Margaret brightened. Olivia always knew the right words.
Ethel, you look wonderful, Victor kissed my hand. New haircut?
Yes, thank you, I answered, feeling my husbands displeased stare.
I began pouring champagne, deliberately ignoring Harvey, who stood off to the side.
To the birthday girl! I declared. To the most amazing mother!
And grandma! Olivia added. By the way we have a surprise for you.
What sort of surprise? Margaret asked, wary.
Were expecting a baby! Olivia announced, beaming.
Margaret clapped her hands, tears of joy spilling over. Victor beamed. I forced a strained smile.
Congratulations, I managed quietly. Thats lovely news.
And why arent you having any? Margaret suddenly demanded, turning to me. Youre almost forty, yet no children of your own. Just a stepson in the house.
A heavy silence fell. My face flushed.
Darling, weve talked about this, I muttered through clenched teeth.
What have we talked about? That your wife is building a career in a library? she sneered. All my grandchildrens friends have nannies, and Im left admiring your sons lazy face. If only you had a proper lad
Yes, Margaret! I snapped. Harvey is right here.
And Im lying? she shot back at the boy. Always in your corner, never speaking up. They say Manchester is a good placewhats that about?
I stared at Harvey, stunned that she knew of his plans.
Ill earn my own money, he said calmly. I already have a parttime remote job building websites.
What websites? I interjected. You should be studying properly, not chasing nonsense.
Its not nonsense; its my future profession, Harvey replied firmly. The pay isnt bad.
Who gave you permission? I raised my voice. You live under my roof, you follow my rules!
Your roof, your rules Im not even your son, am I? So I dont have to obey, Harvey shot back.
My face turned a deep red.
Thats exactly ithes not my son! He never will be!
Oliver! I shouted. Stop this at once!
What did I say? I shrugged helplessly. I told the truth! Ten years Ive fed and clothed him, and the gratitude is nil. All he does is sit in his room staring at his computer. Now he wants to head to Manchester behind my back!
Behind my back? Harvey smirked. I dont care about your opinion. Youre nothing to me.
Harvey! I wailed, torn between husband and father. Please, not today. Its Margarets birthday.
No, nows perfect! I persisted. Ive tolerated your brat for ten years, and now I have to fund his Manchester studies?
Margaret nodded approvingly, Olivia and Victor stared at their plates, while Harvey stood pale but composed.
Ill earn it myself, he repeated. I need nothing from you.
Really? I scoffed. And the roof over your head? Food? Clothes? All mine! If you want to live like that, therell be no Manchester! Youll study here under my watch. Thats my condition.
Something inside me snapped. For a decade Id endured snipes, dismissals, and neglectall for the sake of stability, for a roof, for Harvey. Now I was imposing conditions on my own son.
Perhaps its enough, I whispered. Its Margarets birthday, and weve made a scene.
Its your son who caused the scene, Oliver retorted. As always, its his fault. And you always cover for him! Ungrateful little dog and a motherhen. Is that how youll live on my neck?
Ethel rose slowly from the table. The room fell into a heavy hush.
I spent thirtyfive years in the library, she said, voice steady. Two degrees. I never asked you to support my sonwe managed before you.
Is that so? I sneered. I must have missed that.
Because I didnt want to see, she replied. You needed a compliant housekeeper, not a wife. I became that, but enough is enough.
What does that mean? I asked, frowning.
It means, she turned to Harvey, that were leaving.
A deathly quiet filled the room.
Are you mad? I finally asked, panic edging my voice. Where are you going?
First to my sisters, she said calmly. Then well find a flat. Ill get a better job. Maybe even in Manchester.
Harvey looked at me, awe and admiration mixing in his eyes. Id never seen him like this.
This is nonsense, I laughed nervously. Youll starve without me. How will you afford a flat?
Its no longer your concern, she cut. By the way, Im not just a librarian; Im the head of the department, and my salary is decent. You never bothered to ask.
Youve got a career, then? I protested.
Exactly, she said. And youve never shown interest.
Victor interjected, Your mothers heard enough. Isnt it time to stop this circus on her birthday?
I snapped, Stay out of this, Oliver! This is our family business!
Victor shook his head. What kind of family is this? The way you treat your wife and stepson there are no words.
Olivia tried to calm me, Victor, stop.
Victor replied firmly, Enough, Oliver. Ten years Ive watched this nightmare. Youve become a tyrant. If Ethel is leaving, its the best thing she can do.
Margaret gasped, How dare you! My son does everything for them, and they
Olivia softened, Victor is right. Look at whats happening. Its terrible.
Without waiting for more argument, Ethel slipped out, Harvey following. In the bedroom she grabbed a suitcase and began packing the essentials.
Youre serious? Harvey asked, eyes wide.
More than serious, she replied. Gather your things. Were leaving.
How can we we cant just walk out. We need money, a place
I have savings, she said, pulling a small tin box from the wardrobesomething I never knew existed. Not much, but enough for a start. My sisters offered a room, and I have you, my clever son, dreaming of programming. Well manage.
A knock sounded. Olivia stood at the door.
Are you really leaving? she whispered.
Yes, Ethel answered firmly. Weve had enough.
Olivia fumbled, then pulled a wallet from her bag and handed Ethel an envelope.
Take this. Its from Victor and me. Weve wanted to help but were scared youd find out.
Olivia, I
You can, she interrupted. Youve endured my brothers abuse for ten years, and my mothers too. Accept this as compensation for the hurt we caused by staying silent.
Ethel hesitated, then took the envelope, gratitude flickering in her eyes.
Thank you, she whispered. And Im sorry for spoiling the celebration.
Olivia waved it off, Its not a celebration anyway. Maybe now Oliver will finally think about his behaviourthough I doubt it.
When Ethel and Harvey stepped out into the hallway, the tension was palpable. I sat scowling, Margaret pursed her lips, Victor watched with a faint smirk.
Were leaving, Ethel said simply. Thank you for everything, Oliver. And forgive me if this hurts.
I tried to speak, but words stuck. Victor leaned forward, No more drama. Were fed up. Need a lift?
No, thank you, Ethel shook her head. Well take a taxi.
The door closed behind us. For the first time in ten years I felt a strange lightness, as if a heavy backpack had been dropped. Harvey took my hand, just as he used to when I was a child.
Youre amazing, Mum, he whispered. Im proud of you.
Thank you, love, I smiled. You know, maybe Manchester isnt such a bad ideanew city, new life.
We descended the stairs and stepped out into the early May dusk, the air scented with blossoming hawthorn.
My phone buzzed. It was Oliver.
Dont answer, Harvey urged.
I looked at the screen, then at the envelope in my hand, and pressed decline.
Goodbye, Oliver, I said, ending the call.
The taxi pulled up. As we drove away, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.
Lesson: No one has the right to dictate anothers path; freedom is worth more than any roof you can build over someones head.
