Mom will live with us; your parents can stay in the village, Oliver decides.
You spent fourhundred pounds on what? On a kitchen set?!
Oliver slams the receipt onto the table so hard the plates jump. Laura flinches but tries to keep her composure.
On the set. The old one finally fell apart. The door fell off, the worktop is stained all over.
Four hundred pounds! We agreed wed discuss big purchases first!
Oliver, we talked about this! I told you a month ago! You said, Look for yourself!
I never said you could spend that much!
And how much do you think a decent kitchen set costs? Ten pounds? That was the cheapest option!
Oliver paces the kitchen, tugging at his hair.
Every penny counts right now! Weve been saving for a car!
We were saving. Well save again. But I need somewhere to cook now, not when we finally buy the car.
You could have waited!
Wait? Spend the next six months cooking on two burners because the others dont work?
Oliver turns to her.
You know what? If you could actually save, wed have both a car and a bigger flat by now!
Laura feels a lump rise in her throat.
I cant save? Im the one who counts every pound to make it to payday, who buys the cheapest groceries and wears the same coat for three years.
See, thats the problem! Youre playing the victim again!
Im not a victim! Im just stating facts!
They stand facetoface, breathing heavily. Laura feels tears welling up but she holds them back. No crying, no showing weakness.
Olivers phone rings. He looks at the screen, answers, and says, Mum, before heading out into the hallway.
Laura stays at the kitchen table, rests her head in her hands. Whats happening to them? They never argued about money before. They barely argued at all.
She remembers how they met. Laura was an administrator at a dental practice when Oliver came in for a filling. They struck up a chat in the waiting room, he invited her for coffee, and six months later he proposed.
Laura was twentysix, Oliver twentyeight. Both worked, shared a flat in Manchester, then bought a onebedroom flat on the outskirts. Modest, but theirs.
Life was ordinary. Not rich, but not poor. Arguments were rare and about trivial things. Laura thought everything was fine.
Then something shifted. Oliver grew irritable, nitpicking, constantly bringing up money and saving. He earned well as a manager at a large firm, while Laura earned less, trying to help at home, cooking, cutting costs wherever she could.
But Oliver never seemed satisfied. You didnt cook this way, You didnt clean properly, You spent too much.
Oliver returns to the kitchen, his face serious.
Laura, we need to talk.
Im listening.
Mum called. Her health is failing blood pressure spikes, heart problems. Living alone is too hard for her.
And?
Ive decided shell move in with us until she gets better.
Laura looks at him.
Oliver, we only have a onebedroom flat. Where will she stay?
On the sofa in the living room. Well shift the dining table, put a foldout couch in the kitchen.
Youre serious?
Absolutely. Shes my mother. I cant leave her alone like that.
Im not saying we cant help, but could we hire a carer? Or
A carer costs money we dont have, thanks to your spending.
Laura clenches her fists under the table.
Fine. What about my parents? Theyre both in their seventies. Dad struggles with chores, Mum cant walk well after her stroke.
Your parents live in the village. They have their own house and garden. Theyre fine there.
Theyre not fine! I drive up every week to chop wood, fetch water, clean up!
Keep doing that. But my mum will live here.
Why does your mum get to stay here while my parents have to suffer in the village?
Olivers stare turns cold.
Because my mum is alone. Your parents are together, its easier for them. And in the city she has access to doctors, which she wouldnt have in the village.
Its easier for them, you hear yourself say!
I hear it. Mum will stay with us, your parents can stay in the village. Thats my decision.
Laura stands.
You decided, not us. No discussion.
Im the head of the household.
Head of the household! she laughs bitterly. The head who spends on fishing gear and a new rod, but balks at buying a kitchen set for his wife!
Dont twist my words!
Im not twisting! Im stating facts! You think you can decide for both of us, but when it comes to my parents its a different story!
Your parents are fine!
No! Theyre struggling, and you never even offer to help! You never go with me, never ask if they need anything!
Oliver grabs the car keys.
Ive had enough of this. Mum arrives on Saturday. Prepare a room.
What if I dont want to?
He stops at the door.
This is my flat. I pay the mortgage. My mother will live here, whether you like it or not.
He leaves. Laura sits on the kitchen floor, sobbing silently. This is her flat. Her decision. Her mother. And she? A servant? A shadow forced to accept every demand?
She wipes her tears, picks up the phone, and dials her parents.
Hello, love! her mother answers, voice weak.
Mum, how are you?
Oh, you know, taking it slow. Dads chopping firewood, were heating the stove. Its chilly this winter.
Could you move to the city? I could find a flat
No, love! Weve lived here all our lives. And where will the money for a rentfree flat come from?
Ill manage.
Dont worry. Well manage. You already do so much. Just dont wear yourself out.
Laura swallows the sobs.
Ill be there on Sunday with groceries.
Come, dear. Well be glad to see you.
She hangs up. Her parents have never complained; they always say theyll manage. Yet Laura sees how hard it is: an old house, coal heating, water fetched from a communal tap, wood chopped, dad at seventythree barely walking after heart surgery, mum with limited use of her left hand after a stroke. They persevere, refusing to be a burden.
Her motherinlaw, Valerie Stevens, lives in a twobed flat in the city. Shes sixtyfive, health not perfect but she copes. Oliver is the only son, the mammys boy. Valerie calls him ten times a day, giving advice on what to wear, where to go, what to eat. Oliver obeys without question.
Laura first endured, then began to protest, but Oliver always sided with his mother, claiming she only wants whats best for me.
Now the motherinlaw moves into their cramped flat, and Laura is expected to look after her, cook, clean, while her own parents stay in the village.
Oliver returns late that night, slips straight to the bedroom without a greeting. Laura pretends to be asleep on the couch.
In the morning he leaves early for work, leaving a note on the kitchen table: Prepare a room for Mum on Saturday. Clean the floors, change the bedding.
Laura crumples the note and tosses it in the bin.
Friday evening she drives to the village, brings food, medicines, helps dad stack firewood, tidies the house. Over tea her mother looks at her closely.
You look pale. Everything alright?
Im fine, Mum.
Dont lie. I can see when youre upset.
Laura sighs.
Valerie is moving in with us. Oliver decided shell stay until she gets better.
Well, thats that, her dad says, shrugging. An old woman can stay.
We have a onebedroom flat. Shell take the bedroom. Oliver and I will sleep on the sofa in the kitchen.
Shell be here only a short while, right?
I dont know. Oliver said until she improves. No timeline.
Her mother sighs.
I understand, love. Its hard having a motherinlaw under the same roof. But a son must look after his mother.
And a daughter isnt obliged to look after her parents? Laura snaps.
Her parents exchange glances.
What are you talking about? her dad asks.
I suggested we bring you to the city, get a bigger flat. He refused, saying its better for you in the village.
Its better there, love, her mother says, patting Lauras hand. Were used to it. City life would be cramped for us.
Mum, youre struggling! Dad can barely walk, you cant use your left hand!
We manage. The important thing is youre healthy, and Oliver too. Dont worry about us.
Laura leans into her mother and cries.
Im exhausted. Tired of his attitude. Tired of being second. Tired of his mother being more important than my parents.
Calm down, love. Itll sort itself. Mum will stay a while, then go back.
Laura doesnt believe it.
Saturday morning Valerie arrives with three huge suitcases.
Laura, help me with these! she shouts from the doorway.
Laura silently helps. Valerie inspects the bedroom.
Youre living too cramped! You need a bigger flat!
We cant afford one yet, Laura replies bluntly.
Earn more! Oliver, ask for a bonus!
Mum, thats not how it works, Oliver says, helping her unpack.
In our day we worked for conscience, not fear! We earned well!
Laura steps back to the stove, begins cooking lunch. She hears Valerie dictating to Oliver where to put things, what to hang, what to clear.
Valerie peeks into the kitchen.
What are you making?
Borscht and meatballs.
Oliver cant have fatty food! His livers weak!
Chicken meatballs, steamed.
Still not right. Make fish. Ive brought a pike, Ill show you how to cook it.
I can cook fish.
You can, but not like this. Watch
Valerie pushes Laura aside and takes over the stove. Laura stands nearby, teeth clenched.
Lunch passes in a tense atmosphere. Valerie babbles about health, neighbours, grocery prices. Oliver nods, Laura stays silent.
After lunch Valerie lies down to rest. Laura washes dishes. Oliver approaches from behind.
Thanks for taking my mother in.
Did I have a choice?
Laura, dont start
Im not starting. Im stating facts. You decided, I complied.
You could be kinder to her.
I am kind.
Youre cold. She feels it.
Laura turns.
Oliver, your mother took our bedroom, drove me from the stove, criticised my cooking, and you expect me to be pleasant?
Shes ill!
Shes used to ordering! And you let her?
Enough! Oliver raises his voice. Shes my mother! I wont let you insult her!
Im not insulting! Im telling the truth!
Valeries voice comes from the hallway:
Oliver, whats happening? Are you two fighting?
No, Mum, everythings fine! Oliver says, entering the room.
Laura stays in the kitchen, wipes tears, finishes the dishes.
A week passes. Valerie settles in, taking half the wardrobe, spreading her belongings everywhere. Laura and Oliver sleep on a foldout sofa in the kitchen; her back aches. Valerie rises early, rattles dishes, makes a heavy breakfast Laura refuses too greasy, too caloric. Then she watches TV at full blast, then dishes out advice.
Laura, youre washing the floor wrong. Look, this is how.
Laura, youre washing clothes at the wrong temperature.
Laura, you dress yourself wrong. That doesnt suit you.
Laura endures, silently doing as she always has. Valerie complains to Oliver, who scolds Laura.
Why cant you listen to my mum? Shes trying to help!
I dont need her help!
Youre rude and ungrateful!
Arguments become daily. Laura feels her strength draining work, home, motherinlaw, husband, everything pressing down.
Her own parents cant be visited as often; Valerie demands attention. Laura has to ask a neighbour to help her parents, paying her for the chores.
One evening Laura sits at the kitchen table, tallying expenses. Money wont stretch to the next payday. She needs to buy medication for Dad, pay the neighbour, set aside money for utilities.
Valerie walks in.
Laura, I need new slippers. These hurt. Can you give me some money?
I have nothing spare.
How can that be? Oliver got paid!
Olivers salary goes to the mortgage and food.
And yours?
Mine goes to my parents medication, the bills, everyday costs.
Your parents! Valerie snaps. You always support them, but theres nothing for your motherinlaw!
Valerie, you have a pension.
Its tiny! I cant make ends meet!
Same here. Im not asking you for money.
Valerie storms out, then complains to Oliver:
She refused! I asked for money for slippers and she said no!
Oliver storms into the kitchen, face flushed.
You seriously denied my mother money for slippers?!
Laura, I have no spare cash!
And you have money for your own parents?!
My parents are ill! They need medicine!
My mother is ill too! She needs slippers! Give her something!
Give it yourself! Shes your mother!
I have none!
I have none either!
They shout at each other while Valerie watches, pleased.
Laura suddenly sees the whole picture: a motherinlaw manipulating her son, a husband blind to it, herself cornered.
Enough, she says quietly. Thats it.
Whats enough? Oliver asks, confused.
Everything. Im tired of this. Tired of being the servant. Tired that my parents mean nothing to you.
Laura, dont have a hysterical fit!
Its not a fit. Its a decision. Im leaving.
Oliver freezes.
Where?
To my parents. Ill live with them. If you dont need my help here, Ill go.
Are you crazy?!
No. Ive decided. Live together without me; itll be easier for you.
Laura walks to the bedroom and starts packing. Oliver follows.
Laura, stop! You cant just walk out!
I can, and I will.
What about me?
Youll manage. You have your mum. Shell cook, wash, iron.
But I love you!
Laura stops, looks into his eyes.
If you loved me, you wouldnt let your mother push me aside. You wouldnt put her wishes above my needs. You didnt even remember my dads birthday next week, didnt ask if he needed help, didnt suggest a visit.
Oliver stays silent.
Im tired of being alone in this marriage, she continues. Im tired of carrying everything. I want to care for those who value my care.
She closes the suitcase, grabs her bag.
Laura, wait! Lets talk!
Its too late. It should have been earlier.
She leaves the flat. Valerie stands in the hallway.
Youre leaving? Fine. Oliver will be better off without you.
Laura pauses.
You got what you wanted, Valerie. Youve taken my son. But I dont envy you. Living in a cramped flat with a mammys boy is a doubtful happiness.
She steps out, closing the door.
Outside its cold, snow falling. She flags a taxi, rides to the train station, buys a bus ticket to the village.
She arrives late, the house is dark. She slips in, strips, collapses onto the old sofa in the living room.
Morning she wakes to the smell of pancakes. Her mother is frying breakfast.
Laura! she exclaims. How are you?
Im here. For good.
For good? What about Oliver?
Hes staying with his mum. Itll be easier for them.
Her mother looks at her, then embraces her.
My poor girl. How did it come to this?
It happened, Mum. It just happened.
They sit with tea, Laura recounts the motherinlaw, the fights, her decision to leave.
You did the right thing, her father says. You cant endure that kind of treatment.
But I love him, Laura whispers.
Love isnt tolerating humiliation. Love is respect. He didnt respect you.
Laura nods. Her father is right.
She finds work at the village library. The pay is small but enough. She helps her parents with chores. Slowly she adjusts to rural life.
Oliver calls at first, begging her to return, promising change. She doubts him.
A month later he shows up at the gate, looking weary.
Can I come in?
Come on in.
They sit in the kitchen while her parents tend the garden.
Laura, Ive understood. My mum drove me crazy. Ive sent her back home.
Why?
Because I realised I cant live like a child with my mother ordering everything. I felt trapped.
And now?
I want you back. Ill start over. Ill help your parents more. Ill listen to you. I wont put my mum above you.
Laura studies his face, sees the sincerity, but remains cautious.
Ill think about it, she says.
How long do I have?
She smiled, felt hope stir, and whispered that she would give their love another chance.
