My mums moving in with us. I dont like that door, Nicholas snaps, slamming it so hard the chandelier in the hallway rattles.
For twentythree years of marriage he has never spoken to Emma that way. Theyve argued, theyve fought, but never with such cold detachment. It feels as if a stranger, not her husband, stands before her.
Emma lifts the cold tea cup, drains it into the sink and walks to the window. From the ninthfloor flat she looks out over a goldenbrown autumn park. They chose this flat together, saved for years, sacrificing a lot. Its a spacious threebedroom house a living room and two bedrooms. One for us, one for future kids, they dreamed. No children ever arrived, so the second bedroom becomes Nicholass home office, where he works late into the night, bringing paperwork home from the firm.
Now that room is set for Margaret, his mother.
Emma sighs. Margaret has always been a difficult woman domineering, used to controlling everything. Nicholas is her only son, a lateborn child when hope seemed lost. She adored him, smothered him, never let him take a step without her involvement. When he announced his engagement to Emma, Margaret smiled at the wedding but her eyes stayed icy.
After the wedding Margaret kept her own life, teaching maths at a local school and visiting only occasionally. Three weeks ago she suffered a minor stroke. She recovers quickly, but doctors insist she cant live alone any longer and needs constant supervision.
Emma doesnt object to helping, suggesting a livein carer. Nicholas refuses outright I wont let anyone else near my mother. Yesterday evening he declares that Margaret will move in, without consulting anyone, presenting it as a fact. This morning, when Emma reluctantly protests, he repeats the harsh line.
The phone rings, pulling Emma from her thoughts. The screen shows Sarahs name.
Hey, Sarah, she says, weary.
Emma, you sound upset, Sarahs voice trembles with concern. Whats happened?
Margarets moving in, Emma says, sinking onto the sofa. Nicholas just forced the decision on me. He said either accept it or leave.
Wow! Sarah exclaims. Whens the move?
This Saturday. Nicholas has already hired the removal team theyll bring her bed, wardrobe, armchair Emma rubs her eyes. You know how we get on. How are we supposed to live under the same roof?
I remember her scolding you at your birthday last year for oversalting the soup, right in front of everyone, Sarah retorts.
Yes, exactly, Emma chuckles bitterly. Now imagine that every day.
Maybe you should talk to Nicholas calmly, lay out your worries, Sarah suggests.
I tried. He wont listen. He says the decisions final.
Then perhaps speak directly to Margaret. Start fresh. Shes an elderly lady struggling after her stroke.
Emma wonders if a fresh start is even possible after years of mutual dislike.
I think shell see any overture as a sign of weakness, she admits.
Never know until you try, Sarah replies philosophically. Lets meet tonight at the Aqua Café, seven oclock, and you can vent.
Sounds good, Emma agrees. She hangs up feeling a little lighter; Sarah has always been her rock. Theyve been friends since school, through first loves, university, weddings, breakups. Sarah survived a divorce; Emma endured several failed attempts at motherhood. Theyve always leaned on each other in tough moments.
Now Emma must decide what to do. Leave? But where would she go? Her whole life is tied to this flat and to Nicholas. Despite the fights, she loves him and knows he loves her. Hes torn between his wife and his mother, and hes chosen his mother. Can she blame him?
That evening at the café, Sarah listens, nodding occasionally.
So, what have you decided? she asks after Emma finishes.
Nothing yet, Emma mutters, stirring the cold tea. I cant just walk away after all these years.
Of course not, Sarah says. But you cant live in constant tension either. I know Margaret well; shell monitor your every move, critique everything from your cooking to your hair.
I know, Emma sighs. I just dont see a way forward.
What about a compromise? Maybe find a nearby flat for her, visit daily, help with chores?
I suggested that, Emma shakes her head. Nicholas said no. Mum must live with us. Its nonnegotiable.
Okay, Sarah ponders. Perhaps you should try to improve your relationship with Margaret, for the sake of the family.
How? Emma asks, eyes weary. Ive tried for years. She thinks I stole her son.
Approach her not as a daughterinlaw but as a daughter, Sarah leans in. Shes alone, retired, scared after the stroke. She might just need someone to reassure her she isnt abandoned.
Emma considers this perspective for the first time, seeing Margaret not as a rival but as a lonely elder.
You might be right, she admits. It cant get worse.
Good. Start small. Invite her for tea before the move, discuss how to share the space so it works for everyone.
Back home, Emma finds Nicholas in the living room, laptop open, frowning at documents. He looks up as she enters.
Hey, he says hesitantly.
Hello, Emma replies, hanging her coat and heading to the kitchen.
Natalie, we need to talk, he says, stopping at the doorway while she pulls mugs from the cupboard. I overreacted this morning. I shouldnt have put you on the spot.
Thats true, she says calmly, setting the kettle down.
But you understand I cant leave my mother alone after what happened, he argues, moving closer. She needs me.
I get that, Emma replies, turning to face him. Im not against helping her, but you could have discussed it with me first.
Youre right, he admits, eyes dropping. I knew youd protest and I got scared.
Im not opposed to helping, she says gently. I just fear we wont get along under one roof. You know how strained things are between us.
I do, he sighs. I hope you both can find common groundfor my sake and ours.
Emma looks at his greying temples and the faint lines around his eyes, remembering how he courted her at university, how they imagined a future on a park bench. Twentythree years together is no small thing.
Ill try, she says finally. But you have to support me. Dont leave me alone with her. Be the mediator. If anything goes wrong, we discuss it together. Deal?
Deal, Nicholas exhales, hugging her. Thanks, love. I knew youd understand.
The next day Emma calls Margaret and invites her for tea. Margaret is surprised but agrees. Emma books a taxi, as Margaret avoids public transport after her stroke.
At three oclock the doorbell rings. Margaret stands there, upright despite her frailty, silver hair neatly arranged, eyes sharp.
Good afternoon, Margaret, Emma says, trying to smile. Please, come in.
Hello, Emma, Margaret replies dryly, glancing around. Is Nicholas at work?
Yes, hell be late tonight. Hes finishing a project.
Never looks after himself, Margaret mutters, shedding her coat. Always the workhorse.
Emma leads her to the sitting room, where a tray of tea, scones, and fruit awaits. Margaret settles in the armchair, scanning the room.
Youve put up new curtains? she asks.
Just last autumn, Emma answers, pouring tea. How are you feeling? Nicholas mentioned youre improving.
Better, but I still feel weak. My blood pressure spikes. The doctor says Im recovering well for my age.
A pause follows. Margarets gaze drifts to the window, avoiding Emmas eyes.
Nicholas said Id be staying with you, she finally says.
Yes, Emma nods. Were clearing the office to make a bedroom for you.
I know youre not happy about it, Margaret says, voice softening. Id be angry in your shoes too.
Emma is taken aback by the unexpected honesty.
I Im worried we wont get along, she admits. Were very different.
Exactly, Margaret replies. Youre young, modern. Im an oldfashioned lady. But we have no choice. Nicholas has decided, so we have to make the best of it.
Emma feels a thread of solidarity forming.
Maybe we can try to build a relationship, for Nicholass sake, she suggests.
Margaret tilts her head, surprised. You mean like a daughter?
Yes, Emma says. Hes the only family we both have now.
Margaret smiles faintly. I did ask Nicholas to hire a carer, to stay in my flat, but he insisted I come here.
I know hes stubborn when it comes to family, Emma replies.
Stubbornness runs in the family, Margaret jokes. Were all a bit obstinate.
Emma laughs, the tension easing.
Lets agree on some basics, she proposes. Youll have your own room to relax and watch TV. Ill cook for everyone, but if you need something special, just tell me.
Margaret nods. And I wont interfere in your marriage. But please, dont criticize me in front of Nicholas. If you have concerns, speak to me directly.
Fair enough, Emma agrees. I could also use some help around the house. I cant expect you to stand at the stove, but you could sort the groceries, peel vegetables, maybe knit a few things. I still have that sweater you made for Nicholass graduation.
Margarets eyes widen. He still keeps it?
Of course. He treasures anything that reminds him of you.
Really? Margaret chuckles. That means a lot.
They talk for another hour, the first genuine conversation in twentythree yearsno accusations, no hidden barbs. Emma shares her job at the local library and plans for a reading club. Margaret reminisces about former pupils, many now parents and grandparents.
When its time to leave, Margaret gently grasps Emmas hand.
Thank you for the tea and the talk, she says. Ill try not to be a burden.
Youll be fine, Emma assures, helping her into the coat. Well manage.
That night Nicholas returns, stunned to see Emma and his mother laughing over a slice of cake.
You actually talked? he asks, shaking his head. No fighting?
It worked out, Emma smiles. Your mums a fascinating conversationalist, just a bit worried shell get in our way.
I told you, Nicholas says, pulling Emma into a hug. We just needed to know each other better. Im sorry for how I handled things yesterday.
Its over now, Emma replies, resting her head on his shoulder. But lets agree to discuss big decisions together, okay?
Promise, he says seriously.
Saturday arrives. Margarets belongingsbed, armchair, a few boxes of books and photo albumsare wheeled into the former office, now her bedroom. She looks around, content.
Its cozy, she remarks. Thank you for making this space for me.
Make yourself at home, Emma says, smiling.
That evening the three of them sit down for dinner. Nicholas tells a work anecdote, Margaret recalls his childhood antics, and Emma feels a surprising calm settle over her.
Of course, the first week brings a clash: Margaret criticises the way Emma irons Nicholass shirts. Remembering their agreement, Margaret apologises. Minor disputes over TV volume, heating, and open windows follow, but each time they find a compromise. Margaret learns to knock before entering, Emma adapts her cooking for an elderly diet, and Nicholas becomes the peacemaker when tensions rise.
A month later, Emma finds Margaret in the living room, leafing through a photo album.
May I sit? Emma asks.
Of course, Margaret replies, showing a picture of Nicholas at ten, holding a math medal.
What a serious boy, Emma remarks.
Hes always been responsible, Margaret says. My husband Victor was the samealways did what he said.
Tell me about him, Emma urges. Nicholas never talks about his dad.
It hurts, Margaret sighs. Victor died of a heart attack when Nicholas was fifteen. Nobody was prepared.
She turns the page to a wedding photo of a young Margaret in a white dress beside a dapper man.
You were beautiful then, Emma says.
Yes, we were, Margaret smiles faintly. Years take their tollwrinkles, grey hair. After Victors death I vowed never to let anyone get too close, fearing loss again. I may have smothered Nicholas.
And when I appeared Margaret continues, I saw you as a threat, thinking youd take him away. It was irrational fear.
I understand, Emma whispers. I hold no grudges.
Margaret looks at her for a long moment. I regret we dont have children. Nicholas would have made a wonderful father.
Yes, Emma lowers her gaze. We tried, but it didnt happen.
I know, Margaret says softly. He told me about the treatments, the emotional strain. I worried for you both.
Emma feels a tear slip down. Thank you, she says. That means a lot.
Later, Nicholas walks in to find Emma and his mother at the kitchen table, baking an apple pie together. Margaret directs the process, and Emma follows diligently.
Look at that! Nicholas exclaims, amazed. You two have become friends?
Dont exaggerate, Margaret retorts with a grin. Im just teaching your wife how to make a proper pie, not the bland one youve been feeding him.
Mother! Nicholas protests, half amused.
Its fine, Emma says. Weve agreed to be honest with each other, and I truly want to learn this recipe. It smells wonderful.
That night, after theyre alone, Emma leans into Nicholass ear. I think things will be okay. It wont be perfectthere will be arguments, misunderstandingsbut well get through it.
I always believed you could find common ground with her, Nicholas replies, holding her close. Thank you for your patience, for staying when I said that foolish thing.
And thank you for giving me a chance to know your mother better, Emma answers seriously. Shes difficult, but theres something genuine in her, and she loves you deeply.
I love you both, Nicholas smiles. Thats all that matters.
That night Emma lies awake, reflecting on how close the family came to unraveling because of pride and stubbornness, and how a single step toward each other can mend even the deepest cracks.
Living with Margaret wont be easy, but now Emma knows its possible. Two women, each loving the same man in their own way, can learn to respect each other, if not love, for his sake and theirs. Perhaps, in time, a real bond will form.
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