Dear Diary,
I gave Claire an ultimatum after yet another of her antics: Either your mother moves out or we split. She stared at the clock, shifting from foot to foot in the hallway, her voice edged with impatience. How much longer can we wait? Well be late!
Andrew, my brotherinlaw, called from the bedroom. Im ready, just need to fix my tie. Wed have left already if you hadnt changed outfits three times.
Claire snapped back, Dont start! I want to look decent at your office party, not like a drab mouse.
Andrew appeared in the doorway, knotting his tie. At fortyfive he still kept a trim figure, though silvery strands now peered from his temples. You always look lovely, he said softer, especially when youre not on edge.
Before Claire could answer, Gillian Thompson, Claires mother, entered the kitchen with a steaming mug. Whats with the fancy dress? she asked, eyeing us.
Its Andrews office party, mum, Claire replied, adjusting her earrings.
Ah, right, forgot, Gillian sipped her tea. Why so late? Its already nine.
Were in a rush, Andrew tried to stay calm, though his stomach was churning. Claire, should I book a black cab or drive?
Book a cab, please. I want you both to relax, Claire said, pulling out her phone.
Exactly, Gillian interjected. Men always rush to the bar but shun responsibility.
Andrew clenched his teeth, counting to ten. Every remark from my motherinlaw felt like a accusation, even the weather.
Please, Mum, Claire whispered, casting an apologetic glance at me.
Fine, Ill be quiet, Gillian retreated to the kitchen, leaving the door ajar to listen.
The cab will be here in five minutes, Claire said, slipping her phone into her evening bag.
Got the keys? I asked.
Everythings packed.
Gillian reappeared. When will you be back? Should I lock the door for the night?
No need, Mum. We have the keys.
And if you lose them? Or drink too much? she teased, eyeing me skeptically.
We wont lose anything, I snapped. I know my limits.
Her retort hung in the air, unfinished, when the doorbell rang. The taxi pulled up, and I exhaled a breath I hadnt realized Id been holding. Another evening without Gillians running commentary.
Dont stay out too late! she shouted after us.
In the cab, Claire squeezed my hand. Sorry about my mother. Shes just worried.
Of course, I replied, watching the dark streets pass by. The flickering lampposts reminded me how often I envied the anonymity of those hurried strangers.
Three months ago Gillian moved in after Claires father died, supposedly temporarily. That temporary has stretched into a permanent fixture, and our threebedroom flat feels more like a cramped cage.
The party was at a sleek restaurant in central London, live music humming in the background, colleagues in festive attire. I began to relax, chatting with coworkers and their partners. Claire shone in a deep navy dress, turning heads.
Victor Simmonds, the company director, stopped by the bar. What a wonderful wife you have, he said, nodding at Claire. A true lady.
Thank you, I replied, pride swelling. Weve been married fifteen years as of April.
Impressive, Victor smiled. Children?
No, I shook my head. We tried, but the doctors kept saying everything was finejust wait.
That had always been a sore spot. Wed spent years on tests and treatments, only to be told to be patient. Eventually Claire decided we were happy just the two of us.
I had a couple of glasses of wine, never moreI always keep my limit, despite Gillians protests. By eleven I felt the pull to head home.
Shall we stay a bit longer? Claire asked, eyes alight. The dance just started.
Just half an hour, I agreed, then we must be up for work tomorrow.
We swirled on the dance floor to a slow tune, feeling young again. I held Claire close, inhaling the scent of her perfume, thinking perhaps the situation with my motherinlaw wasnt so dire after all. Many families live under one roof with parents.
We got back around midnight; the flat was still lit, though we hoped Gillian was asleep.
She finally showed up, Gillian announced as we stepped inside, I thought Id have to call the police.
Just an office party, Mum, Claire said, tired.
In my day respectable folk didnt come home that late, Gillian muttered, pursing her lips. And youre still bringing home the booze, Andrew.
Ive only had two glasses all evening, I replied calmly.
Everyone says that, Claire interjected. Lets talk tomorrow.
Gillian sighed dramatically. Im nobodys business here.
I slipped into the shower, trying to wash away the irritation and fatigue. Fifteen years of marriage and Id never felt such tension. When I emerged, Claire was already in bed.
Dont mind your mother, she whispered. Shes still grieving her husband.
I understand, I said, lying beside her. But this has been three months of constant interference. We cant even have a quiet conversation without her hovering.
Give her time, Claire stroked my arm. Shell adjust.
I wanted to tell her I was scared of getting used to the endless nagging, the need to account for every step, the loss of personal space. I kept quiet. Claire drifted to sleep, and I faced a demanding workday ahead.
Morning began with the smell of fried fishsomething Ive despised since childhood, and Gillian knew well. I grimaced as I entered the kitchen.
Good morning, she grumbled, breakfast is almost ready.
Thanks, but Ill grab a bite at the office, I said, pouring coffee. Im in a rush.
Always in a rush, she sighed theatrically. My cooking isnt good enough for the senior manager.
Its not about the food, I murmured, taking a sip. Just need to get going.
Claire will have breakfast at home, like a proper wife, Gillian declared, setting a hefty piece of fish on a plate. Not like some people who race around like lunatics.
I finished my coffee and left. In the hallway, a sleepy Claire asked, Already leaving?
Yes, a lot to do, I kissed her cheek. Your mum made fish again.
Oh right, she winced. Ill speak to her later.
Dont bother, I said wearily. It wont change anything.
The day dragged on; I couldnt focus on projects, my mind kept drifting back home. At lunch, Claire called.
Hey, hows it going? she sounded tense.
My mother went through my wardrobe, saying she was tidying up, I said. I told her I dont like people touching my stuff and she got upset.
She just wants to help, Claire defended. Shes always busy, needs something to do.
Let her stick to her own business! I snapped, quickly lowering my voice when I realized coworkers might hear. Ill call back later.
I stared out the window, wondering if we should ask Gillian to move back to her own flat. She had sold theirs after her husband died, saying the memories were too much. Now there was no easy way back.
That evening I stayed late at the office, avoiding the thought of returning to a house full of tension. When I finally got home, Claire met me with a guilty look.
What happened? I asked, removing my shoes.
Mum accidentally broke your model plane, she whispered, referring to the rare Messerschmitt Id brought from Germany.
Accidentally? I asked, heart pounding.
Yes, she vacuumed, the cord snagged the wardrobe, and the model fell.
Why was she cleaning in my study? I demanded, feeling a surge of anger. We agreed that area was offlimits!
She wanted to do something nice, Claire said, eyes downcast. She knew Id be late and thought she could tidy up.
Where is she now?
At the neighbours, said shed return when youre calmer.
I entered the study. The model lay shatteredwings snapped, fuselage split. Months of careful restoration reduced to dust.
This is the last straw, I muttered, looking at the broken pieces.
Andrew, please, Claire pleaded, she didnt mean it.
Its not about the plane, I turned to her. Its about your mother not respecting our space, our rules, our relationship. She constantly interferes.
Shes just worried about us, Claire tried to defend, but her voice lacked confidence.
No, shes not worried. Shes controlling, and I cant live like this any longer.
What do you mean? Claires eyes widened in fear.
Either your mother moves out, or we divorce, I said, my voice steady despite the heat rising within. Im serious. Im at my limit.
Claire recoiled as if struck. You cant be serious! Kick my own mother out?
Im not banishing her. She could rent a flat nearby. Well support her financially, visit her, anythingbut living under the same roof is no longer possible.
What if I choose my mother? she whispered.
Then well have to part, I replied quietly. Fifteen years Ive put you first, but the past three months Ive felt like a guest in my own home.
Tears welled in Claires eyes. Its unfair! Mums lonely, she needs support!
And I need my wife, I said, moving closer. I need a home where I can unwind, not brace for the next comment or intrusion.
The front door slammed as Gillian stormed back in, hearing our voices. Ah, here you are, she began, already telling me nasty things about me? I only wanted the best. She gestured at the dusty model. Your toy was already gathering cobwebs, no use whatsoever.
Mum! Claire shouted. Not now!
When will you listen to the truth, Andrew? Gillian retorted. He
Enough, I cut in, surprising even myself with the calm. Gillian, shall we sit down and talk like adults?
She fell silent, surprised. We moved to the sitting room; I took a chair, Claire and her mother settled on the sofa.
I understand how hard it is after losing your husband, I began. But you must see our side too. Claire and I have built a life together over fifteen years, and now its under threat.
Because of me? she sniffed.
Yes, I answered plainly. Because of the constant control, the remarks, the meddling. I feel like an outsider in my own house.
Its my home now too, Gillian declared stubbornly.
Thats exactly what I wanted to discuss, I said, keeping my tone even. I think it would be better for you to live separately.
Youre kicking a mother out onto the street? Gillian gasped. Thats outrageous!
Were not throwing you out, I explained patiently. Well help you find a flat nearby, visit, and support you financially.
What if I refuse? she crossed her arms.
Then, Im afraid Claire and I wont be able to stay together, I said, looking at my wife. Ive already told her.
Youre a blackmailer! Gillian shouted. Claire, youre letting this happen?
Claires face crumpled. I dont know what to do, Mum. I love both of you, but Andrews right the last months have been awful for everyone.
So you want me to go? Gillian asked, hurt in her voice.
I want us all to be happy, Claire whispered. Right now, no one is.
A heavy silence settled. Gillian stared between us, as if seeing us for the first time.
I never imagined it would get this bad, she finally admitted. I thought I was helping.
We appreciate your care, Andrew said gently. But sometimes care becomes overbearing.
Gillian lowered her head. After my husband died I feared being alone, feared the silence. Thats why I tried to control everything, to feel needed.
Claire embraced her mother. We love you, Mum. Youll always be part of our lives. But perhaps Andrews suggestion is best you could live nearby but independently.
Gillian stayed quiet for a long moment, then sighed. Perhaps youre right. I didnt want to admit it, but Ive overstepped. Its hard to accept that Im no longer the centre of my daughters world.
Youll always be important to us, Andrew said. We just need to respect each others boundaries.
We talked long into the night about plans, the future, how to rebuild our relationships. For the first time in three months I felt truly heard. I began to see my motherinlaw not as an enemy, but as a lonely woman scared of becoming irrelevant.
The next day Claire found an advert for a onebedroom flat in the neighbouring block. Andrew and she viewed it, paid the deposit, and helped Gillian move in a week later.
Are you still angry with me? Claire asked once we were back in our own flat, after the move.
For what? I replied, surprised.
For the ultimatum. It was harsh.
Sometimes you have to be firm to protect what truly matters, I said, pulling her into a hug. I didnt want to lose you, but I couldnt carry on like that.
You know, Claire mused thoughtfully, maybe its for the best. Mum looks almost happy now. Shes joined a seniors hobby club.
See? She needed her own life, not just looking after us.
We sat on the sofa in the quiet of our apartment, enjoying the calm. Claires phone buzzed with a message from her mother, a photo of her new sitting room, bright with fresh flowers and family pictures.
It looks like things are finally working out, Claire smiled.
I nodded, feeling the tension of the past months melt away. Sometimes you have to reach the edge to find a new path. Sometimes a hardwon ultimatum can lead to a happier ending for everyone.
