There Was Another One. Eleanor.
The daughter of a friend. The one Margaret Whitmore had already, in her mind, planned a future forher son, Michael, and Eleanor. Quiet, gentle, obedient. An accountant at a respectable firm. Best of all, she understoodno, *accepted*the unbreakable bond between mother and son. Eleanor had once said, Margaret, Ill always ask for your advice. You know him best. Perfect words.
Then there was *Louise*. With her, it was impossible to find common ground. Every offer of helphow to make Michaels favourite shepherds pie, how to press his shirts just sowas met with a polite but firm, Thank you, well manage. That *we* cut Margaret to the quick. She was his *mother*! She *knew* best!
***
At Louises home, no one was celebrating either. Nearly 30, she still lived with her parents, raised her daughter, and of course, dreamed of love. Michael had suggested moving in together quicklybarely a month after theyd metthough, at first, without the child. Two months later, he proposed. Ive finally found my match, he said, ready to build a nest.
Louise was over the moon. This was the real thing, the blinding passion shed yearned for. When anyone tried to temper herpointing out infatuations blindness, that Michael wasnt marriage materialshe bristled. She loved him fiercely, certain she could warm him, make him happy, help him spread his wings.
A month before the wedding, she sat at her mothers kitchen table. Her mum sipped tea, watching her with a strange sadness.
Louise, love you know Michaels temperament isnt straightforward? she ventured.
Mum, hes just sensitive! Louise shot back. No ones ever understood him. But I do.
Its not about understanding, dear. Hes used to being coddled, living under his mothers wing, no responsibilities. Are you ready to carry everything? Him, his mum, your daughter?
Hell detach once were a family! Michael just needs love and support. Ill give him that.
Her sister, Beatrice, was blunter. After one visit where Michael had monologued about his grievances with an old boss, barely letting anyone speak, she pulled Louise aside:
Chris, your Michaels a proper narcissist. Do you even see it? He doesnt notice peopleonly himself.
Hes just upset. You havent seen how tender he can be!
Youre idealising him, Beatrice sighed. Marriage isnt about tenderness. Its about wholl take the bins out and bring you tea when youre ill.
Louise didnt listen. She thought her family envied her whirlwind romance. Didnt believe in true love. She and Michael barely argued those first months. She adored nesting in their new flat, trying recipescooking for him was a joy. Plus, he often travelled for work; the distance made the heart grow fonder. So, she ignored outsiders opinionsand calmly deflected her future mother-in-laws attempts to dictate. Thank God Michael had his own flat. That alone gave her hope.
***
If Margaret couldve, shed have forbidden the marriage. But it all happened too fasther boy was nearly 34, after all. Hopes that hed dump Louise in three months, like the others, faded. Worse, the brides family got involved. Margaret refused to help plan the wedding. She was the grooms sole guest and figured if the brides parents wanted a lavish affair, that was their problem. At the ceremony, she watched the couple closely. Louise was clearly smitten, gazing at Michael like he hung the moon. *This wont last*, Margaret thought. *Shell tire of him. He cant live with her.*
After the registry office, Louise brought her daughter home, throwing herself into domesticity. Margaret lived across town but called and visited so often it grated. She criticised everything. Michael never contradicted hermaybe couldnt. Seeing Louise try to reform him made Margaret seethe.
When Michael lost his job, his mother doubled down. Daily calls. Uninvited visits with scones, inspecting the fridge and cupboards.
Oh, Michael, you prefer white socks. Louise, why havent you bought any?
Mum, enough, hed grumblebut wore the socks she brought.
Louises awakening was slow and painful. First, she objectively lagged in cooking and cleaning. Second, she worked moreMichaels temporary unemployment dragged on six months. He waited for severance from his bankrupt firm, refusing to job-hunt, expecting the world to hand him something worthy. They lived on Louises salary and meagre savings.
Once, when they couldnt afford groceries, he said breezily, Call Mum, borrow till payday.
She froze.
Michael, were adults. Maybe you could look for work?
You dont believe in me? His face twisted. I wont take just *any* job! Dyou want me hauling boxes?
Margaret seized every complaint, every gripe about Louise, fanning them into crises:
She doesnt *understand* you, son. Doesnt *appreciate* you. I always said. Eleanor would *never* do this.
She painted an illusion: somewhere, Michael was awaited, understood, treasured. Unlike Louises world of nagging and baffling demands to grow up. Michael stayed silent. Nodded when his mum nitpicked dishes in the sink or tracked-in mud. After she left, hed snap at Louise: Why cant you just clean properly so theres nothing to complain about?!
Louise fought back, of course. Argued, pleaded. But she hit a wall. Michael obeyed his mother. He *wanted* to lead his new familybut had been raised to defer. Her word was law. *She* knew best. In crisesbroke, rowing with Louisehe fled to her. Because she fixed things. Because she gave. Because she was safe. Mum always took his side. And materially? Hed never struggled for what he wanted. His guilt-ridden father bought him everythingbikes, a scooter, a car, even a flat by 30.
Before the affair came to light, Louise realised shed married an eternal childdoomed to compete with his mum. So when someone sent her a rather *revealing* video, she didnt bother investigating. She called her parents, packed her bags, and left.
Margaret heard the news with relief. At last, this foolish marriage was over. Her boy was hers again.
First, she consoled him:
Youre a man; these things happen. Its *her* faultshe drove you to it. Didnt make a proper home. A man whos happy at home doesnt stray. Dont fret, son. Itll all sort itself. Mums here. Ill clean, Ill cook. And who knows? Maybe Eleanor will visit. She always liked you.
***
Louise left decisivelybut was shattered. In her family, nearly everyone stayed married; divorcing after two years felt like abject failure. She knew theyd take her back but expected pleas to endure, forgive, save the marriage. They never came.
Then came the real surprise.
When she called her mum, sobbing, I cant do this. Im filing for divorce, the reply was, Alright, come home. Your rooms waiting.
That evening, as Louise spilled every detail, her mother listened without interrupting.
Divorce him, love, she said softly when Louise finally paused. Has Michael ever once put you first?
Never, but youre not going to talk me out of it?
No. That man wont change. Youd be nursing him forever. Is that what you want?
Her sister said the same: Congratulations! Glad youve woken up. Even her grandmothermarried 55 yearsblessed the split. Her usually traditional father thumped the table: Good on you for not tolerating that nonsense!
Then a different anger boiled in Louise. She confronted her mum, primed for a fight.
Why didnt you *say* anything?! she choked out. You *saw* him! At the wedding, before itwhy didnt you *stop* me?! Did you even *care* who I married?!
Her mother looked at her with infinite weariness and love.
Louise, my girl. What would it have changed? If Id begged on my knees at the registry? Would you have listened? Or resented me forever, convinced Id ruined your happiness?
Louise said nothing. She *wouldnt* have listened. They *had* warned hershed thought them jealous.
Sometimes, the only way to learn to choose clearly is through bitter experience, her mum said gently. We couldve ripped the mistake away. But youd have spent your life pining for that fairy tale, blaming us. Now you *know*. For yourself. And that knowledge stays. It hurts, but its *yours*.
Louise weptnot just for the ruined marriage, but for the clarity. They hadnt been indifferent. Theyd been wise. Theyd let her fall, so shed learn to see the mannot the prince. A priceless lesson.
***
What do you think?
A familys hardest dilemma. Whats right: try to stop a doomed marriage, risking permanent estrangement? Or let them err, support the awakening, be there when it crumbles? Wheres the line between care and overriding anothers fate?
