Either your mother moves out, or well part ways, I warned Eleanor after yet another of her outbursts.
How much longer can we wait? Well be late! she snapped, glancing anxiously at the clock, shifting from foot to foot in the hallway.
Im ready; just need to fix my tie, called Andrew from the bedroom. Wed have left already if you hadnt changed your dress three times.
Dont start now! Eleanor huffed, irritation flashing in her voice. I want to look proper at your office party, not like a drab mouse!
Andrew appeared in the doorway, tugging the knot of his tie. At fortyfive he still kept a trim figure, though a touch of silver had begun to crown his temples.
You always look splendid, he said gently. Especially when youre not on edge.
Eleanor opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment Mrs. Whitaker, Eleanors mother, stepped out of the kitchen clutching a steaming mug of tea.
Where are you all dressed up for? she inquired, eyes sweeping over them.
Andrews office party, Mum, Eleanor corrected, adjusting her earrings.
Ah, right, Id forgotten, Mrs. Whitaker sipped her tea. And why so late? Its already nine oclock.
Were in a hurry, Andrew said, trying to stay calm despite the heat rising inside him. Eleanor, shall we take a cab? Or do you want me to drive?
A cab, please. Id like you to relax as well. Eleanor slipped her phone from her pocket.
Exactly, Mrs. Whitaker interjected. Those men are always first for a drink, then shirk any responsibility and hide away.
Andrew clenched his teeth, counting silently to ten. Every remark from his motherinlaw felt like a accusation, even when she spoke of the weather.
Mother, please, Eleanor whispered, casting a pleading glance at Andrew.
Fine, Ill keep quiet, Mrs. Whitaker retreated to the kitchen, leaving the door ajar to eavesdrop.
The cab should be here in five minutes, Eleanor said, tucking her phone into her evening bag.
Right, Andrew took his jacket. Did you grab the keys?
Yes, I have everything.
Mrs. Whitaker reappeared from the kitchen.
And when will you be back? Should I lock the door for the night?
No need, Mum. We have the keys.
And what if you lose them? Or drink too much? she warned, eyeing her soninlaw skeptically.
We wont lose them, Andrew cut in. I know my limits.
Everyone says that, then? she began, but the doorbell cut her off.
The cab pulled up, and Andrew exhaled a breath of relief. Another evening free of his motherinlaws commentary.
Dont stay out too late! Mrs. Whitaker called after them.
In the cab, Eleanor squeezed Andrews hand.
Im sorry about my mother. Shes only worried.
Of course, Andrew replied, watching the dark street pass by, lanterns flickering. At times he wished he could melt into the crowd, free of the constant feeling that every step was being judged.
Three months earlier Mrs. Whitaker had moved in after Eleanors father passed away, a temporary arrangement, it was said, until she adjusted to life without him. The temporary had stretched into a permanent, and their threebedroom flat began to feel to Andrew like a cramped cage.
The office party was held at a stylish restaurant in the heart of London, with polished décor, live piano, and colleagues in festive attire, all setting the tone for a pleasant night. Andrew gradually relaxed as he chatted with workmates and their partners. Eleanor shone in a darkblue gown, charming everyone around her.
You have a wonderful wife, said Victor Sinclair, the companys director, as they stood near the bar. A true lady.
Thank you, Andrew replied proudly, looking at Eleanor, who was animatedly conversing with Victors wife. Im lucky.
How long have you two been married? Victor asked.
Fifteenth of April will mark fifteen years.
Impressive, Victor nodded. Any children?
No, Andrew shook his head. It just never happened.
It was a sore spot. They had both tried for years, endured countless examinations and treatments, only to be told everything was fine and they must simply wait. Eventually Eleanor decided that being together was enough.
The evening wore on. Andrew sipped a couple of glasses of wineno more; he always knew his limit, despite Mrs. Whitakers jibes. By eleven he began to think of heading home.
Shall we stay a bit longer? Eleanor suggested, eyes bright. Weve just started dancing.
Lets have another half hour, then well go, Andrew agreed. Tomorrows a workday.
Eleanor smiled and pulled him onto the dance floor. To the slow melody they twirled like they had in their youth, Andrew holding her close, inhaling the scent of her perfume, feeling that perhaps it wasnt all so bad.
They returned home around midnight. The flat was still lit, though they hoped Mrs. Whitaker was already asleep.
They finally showed up, a voice announced as they crossed the threshold. I thought Id have to call the constable.
Mum, it was just a party, Eleanor said wearily.
In my day respectable folk didnt come home that late, Mrs. Whitaker murmured, pursing her lips. And youre still bringing home spirits, Andrew.
Ive had two glasses all night, he tried to stay composed.
Everyone says that.
Mother, were exhausted, Eleanor intervened. Lets talk tomorrow.
Of course, of course, Mrs. Whitaker sighed dramatically. Im nobody here, my opinions mean nothing.
Andrew drifted to the bathroom, letting the hot water wash away the irritation and fatigue. Fifteen years of marriage, and never had he felt such tension. When he returned, Eleanor was already in bed.
Dont mind Mum, she whispered. Shes struggling after her husbands death.
I understand, Andrew lay beside her. But this has been going on for three months now. We cant even have a normal conversation; shes always there, always commenting.
Shell get used to it, Eleanor stroked his hand. Shell adjust.
Andrew wanted to admit he feared becoming accustomed to the constant nitpicking, the need to account for every move, the lack of personal space. He kept quiet. Eleanor drifted to sleep, and he faced the prospect of a hard day at work.
Morning began with the smell of fried fisha scent Andrew had loathed since childhood, a fact Mrs. Whitaker knew well. He grimaced as he entered the kitchen.
Good morning, Mrs. Whitaker grumbled, breakfast is almost ready.
Thanks, but Ill grab something at the office, Andrew poured himself a coffee, hurrying.
Always, she sighed theatrically. My cooking never seems good enough for a gentleman of your standing.
Its not that, he said, taking a sip. Im just in a rush.
And young Eleanor will eat at home, like a proper wife, Mrs. Whitaker placed a generous fillet of fish on a plate. Not like some people who dash off like mad dogs.
Andrew finished his coffee in silence and left the kitchen. In the hallway he found Eleanor, still halfasleep.
Leaving already? she asked, surprised.
Yes, a lot to do, he kissed her cheek. Your mother has made fish.
Oh, not again, Eleanor wrinkled her nose. Ill speak to her.
No need, Andrew sighed. It wont change anything.
The workday stretched on, his mind constantly drifting back to the domestic drama. At lunch Eleanor called.
Hey, hows it going? her voice sounded tense.
Fine, working. Whats up?
Mum was rummaging through your wardrobe, saying she was tidying up. I told her you dont like anyone touching your things, and she took offence.
Marian, Im fed up, Andrew burst out. Why does she think she can run the household?
She just wants to help, Eleanor defended. You know how active she is, needs something to do.
Let her mind her own business! Andrew raised his voice, then realized colleagues might hear. Ill call back later. He hung up, staring out the window, wondering if perhaps she should move back to her own flat. After her husbands death she had sold theirs almost immediately, saying the memories were too much, and now there seemed no way back.
That evening Andrew stayed late at the office, reluctant to return home. When he finally walked in, Eleanor met him with a guilty look.
Did something happen? he asked, slipping off his shoes.
Mum accidentally broke your model aircraft, she said softly. The one you brought back from Germany.
Andrew froze. The rare Messerschmitt he had painstakingly assembled over months lay in pieces on the floor.
Accidentally? he asked, disbelief rising.
Yes, she was vacuuming, tugged on the wardrobe, and the model fell.
And why was she vacuuming in my study? he demanded, anger bubbling. We agreed that was the only room shed stay out of!
She wanted to be nice, Eleanor lowered her eyes. She knew youd be late and thought cleaning would help.
Where is she now?
She went to a neighbours, said shed return when youre calmer.
Andrew entered his study. The shattered remains of the aircraft stared backwings snapped, fuselage split in two. Months of careful work were gone.
This is the last straw, he murmured, looking at the wreckage.
Andrew, please, Eleanor pleaded from behind. She didnt mean it.
Its not about the plane, he turned to her. Its about your mother not respecting our space, our rules, our relationship. She constantly interferes.
Shes only worried about us, Eleanor tried to defend, but the confidence was gone.
No, Andrew said firmly. Shes not worried. Shes controlling. I cant live like this any longer.
What do you mean? Eleanors eyes widened with fear.
Either your mother moves out, or we divorce, he declared, the ultimatum hanging heavy in the room. Im serious. Im at my limit.
Eleanor recoiled as if struck.
You cant be serious! Expel your own mother?
Im not expelling her. She can rent a flat nearby. Well help her financially, visit, whatever. But I cant keep living under the same roof.
What if I choose my mother? she whispered.
Then well have to part, he answered softly. Fifteen years Ive put you first, but the past three months I feel like a guest in my own home.
Tears welled in Eleanors eyes.
Its unfair! Mums alone, she needs support!
And I need my wife, Andrew said, moving closer. I need a home where I can unwind, not wait for another remark or intrusion.
At that moment the front door slammedMrs. Whitaker had returned. Hearing the raised voices, she strode in.
Well, look whos here, she began, eyes flashing. Probably already told me all sorts of nonsense about you? She added, I only meant well. That dusty toy of yours was already gathering cobwebs, no use anyway.
Mum! Eleanor cried. Not now, please.
When? Mrs. Whitaker shot back. When will your husband finally listen to the truth? He
Enough, Andrew interrupted, surprised at his own calm. Mrs. Whitaker, lets sit and talk like adults.
The motherinlaw fell silent for the first time. They moved to the sitting room, taking places: Andrew in an armchair, Eleanor and her mother on the sofa.
I understand your situation, Andrew began. Losing a husband after so many years is hard. But you must understand us too. Eleanor and I have built a life together for fifteen years, and now its under threat.
Because of me? she snapped.
Yes, Andrew answered plainly. Because of the constant monitoring, the comments, the meddling in our lives. I feel like a stranger in my own house.
This is my house now as well, Mrs. Whitaker retorted.
Thats exactly what I wanted to discuss, Andrew said, keeping his tone steady. I think it would be better for you to live separately.
Youll throw your daughters mother out onto the street? she exclaimed, hands trembling. Thats outrageous!
No one is being thrown out, Andrew replied patiently. Well help you find a nearby flat, visit, support you financially.
And if I refuse? she crossed her arms.
Then, Im afraid, Eleanor and I cannot continue living together, he said, looking at his wife. Ive already told her this.
A blackmailer! Mrs. Whitaker shouted. Eleanor, youre allowing this?
Eleanors tearstreaked face lifted.
I dont know what to do, Mum. I love you both. But Andrew is rightthese months have been hard for everyone.
So you want me to go? the motherinlaw asked, hurt evident in her voice.
I want us all to be happy, Eleanor said softly. Right now, no one is.
Silence settled. Mrs. Whitaker glanced between daughter and soninlaw as if seeing them anew.
I never thought it would get this bad, she finally said. I thought I was helping.
We appreciate your concern, Andrew replied gently. But sometimes concern becomes overbearing.
Mrs. Whitaker lowered her head.
After your father died I feared being alone, feared the quiet, the emptiness. Thats why I intruded, tried to controlto feel needed.
Eleanor embraced her mother.
We love you, Mum. Youll always be part of our lives. But perhaps Andrew is right. Maybe it would be better if you lived nearby, but not under the same roof.
Mrs. Whitaker stayed quiet for a long while, then sighed.
You may be right. I didnt want to admit it, but I have taken too much liberty. 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.
They talked at length about plans, the future, how to mend the relationship. For the first time in three months Andrew felt truly heard. And for the first time he saw his motherinlaw not as an enemy but as a lonely woman frightened of being useless.
The next day Eleanor found an advertisement for a onebedroom flat in the next street. Andrew and she inspected it, paid the deposit, and helped Mrs. Whitaker move a week later.
Youre not angry with me? Eleanor asked when they returned to their flat after the freshsetup.
For what? Andrew replied, surprised.
For the ultimatum. It was harsh.
Sometimes you must be firm to protect what truly matters, he said, pulling her close. I didnt want to lose you, but I couldnt go on as before.
You know, Eleanor mused, maybe its for the best. Mum sounds almost happy now. She said shed joined a senior club.
See? She needed a life of her own, not just looking after us.
They sat on their sofa in the quiet of the flat, savoring the peace. Eleanors phone buzzed with a message from her mother, a photo of her newly furnished sitting room, bright with fresh flowers and framed pictures.
It looks like its working out, Eleanor smiled.
Andrew nodded, feeling the tension of the past months loosen. Sometimes one has to reach the edge to discover a new path. Sometimes risking everything is the only way to keep what matters most. And even the toughest ultimatums can lead to a happy ending for everyone.
