“I’m not eating this,” Emily sniffed disdainfully at the plate of stew.
“What is this?” She wrinkled her nose as if someone had placed a bucket of garbage in front of her.
“Stew,” her daughter-in-law, Sarah, explained with a smile, removing the lid from the ceramic pot and ladling the rich, colorful broth. “There’s such joy in cooking with vegetables from your own garden.”
“I don’t see the point,” Emily snorted. “The effort and time spent on gardening are enormous!”
“True,” Sarah laughed good-naturedly. “But when it’s your hobby, it’s pure joy.”
“Sure, when it’s ‘your’ hobby, not something forced upon you,” Emily muttered, pursing her lips. “And who’s going to eat all of this?”
“Us. It’s not much, just a couple of servings.”
“I won’t eat this slop,” Emily said emphatically, waving her hands in protest and stepping away from the table. “What’s even in it?” She feigned a gag and covered her mouth.
Sarah rolled her eyes and sighed.
Sarah met Emily’s son, Michael, a year and a half ago. They connected instantly and married without any fuss a month later.
They pooled their savings into their dream home in the countryside, a place they made their own with love.
Sarah had seen Emily just four times since then. The same number as Michael, in fact. Three times, she had convinced him to visit his mother over the holidays.
From the beginning, Emily thought her son’s marriage was foolish, but she had no influence over an independent man and had to wait for what she believed would be the inevitable outcome.
But as time passed, Emily grew more anxious.
She couldn’t understand what Michael saw in this “simple girl” or how Sarah won him over.
He was a handsome man, always surrounded by more attractive prospects.
Moreover, Emily was a city girl through and through, as was Michael. Her motherly instincts told her that he was already tired of country life, and she only needed to nudge him to restore the status quo.
After such a bitter experience, he would undoubtedly find a proper partner, and Emily was sure she could become good friends with her future daughter-in-law.
But she needed to act quickly and prevent wily Sarah from binding him with a child!
Emily concocted a plan on her own: she phoned her daughter-in-law and invited herself over since she never received an invitation to their housewarming.
Sarah reminded her that she had indeed invited Emily twice over the phone, but Emily had declined due to her busy schedule. Nevertheless, Emily brushed it off and asserted her readiness to visit her son.
Two days later, she stood in their bright, spacious living room, unable to contain her irritation.
Her son, like both Emily and Michael’s late father, never liked soups!
Their family meals consisted of dishes easily identifiable at first glance.
How had Michael allowed his wife to take over so quickly?
Was he enchanted?
Emily shuddered at the thought. She quickly dismissed any thought of Sarah keeping Michael with seductive tricks.
Tricks and Sarah?
Impossible!
Definitely some enchantment!
How else to explain him relishing this stew?
Emily glared at her daughter-in-law.
Pretending to be all innocent while slyly poisoning her husband.
“Really, what’s unclear about it?” Sarah, ignoring Emily’s theatrical gestures, grabbed a second bowl, scooped up a ladleful of stew, and turned to Emily. “Here’s the cabbage, there’s onion, some carrots, and beetroot. I grate it, according to my grandmother’s recipe. Oh, the potatoes aren’t in this scoop, but I’ll catch them next round. And a sprinkle of fresh herbs and some cream!”
“You could eat boiled bran!” Emily exclaimed furiously.
“In fact, bran would benefit you, especially at your age! It helps regulate digestion and improves gut health. A happy gut makes a happy person!”
Emily blushed at her daughter-in-law’s bluntness but continued without comment.
“And why force Michael to eat it?”
Sarah blinked in confusion.
“He seems to eat it on his own.”
“And what can he do if there’s nothing else to eat?”
“He could cook what he likes? Order delivery? Visit a neighbor? Pop round to see mother?” Sarah ticked off options with a smirk.
Emily turned a deeper shade of red at the last suggestion.
“Don’t be sarcastic! You should respect me and learn what Mickey likes.”
“I already asked him, Emily. He’s a grown-up. Thanks to you, he knows how to say he likes something.”
“Well, he’s lying! Can’t you see? At first, he didn’t want to upset you. Now he chokes it down!”
“Oh!” Sarah’s face grew long as she sighed, “Well, the stew is cooked. No sense wasting it. I guess he’ll have to choke it down. But you’ll support your son, right?”
“What?!” Emily gaped at Sarah.
“No? Pity. I believe your son would appreciate your solidarity.”
“You!”
“Sarah! We’re back!” came Michael’s cheerful voice from the hallway.
Loud barking and a fluffy white bundle burst into the living room.
“Aaah!” Emily shrieked, hiding behind Sarah.
“Don’t worry, that’s Luna. She doesn’t bite. And she’s well-trained,” Sarah said, raising her hand. The dog immediately ceased jumping, looked up, and sat on command. “Good girl, aren’t you?”
“Why let the neighbor’s dog in?” Emily whispered in shock.
“Neighbor’s? She’s ours. She lives here with us.”
“Inside?! But that’s unsanitary!” Emily exclaimed. “And Michael hates dogs!”
“No, Mom, you don’t like dogs. Hey,” Michael said, entering the living room. “Perfect timing for lunch.”
“Hello, my boy!” Emily stood still, waiting for him to kiss her cheek, but Michael merely gave a light hug before crossing over to plant a tender kiss on Sarah’s lips.
“Ready for lunch?” Michael sniffed the air and beamed.
“I would, dear, but what can I eat?”
“What do you mean?”
“Only pig food is ready. You didn’t mention that you’ve gotten pigs. What a smell that would be! Worse than car fumes at home.”
Michael stared at his mother, then at Sarah, then at the laid table.
His neck muscles tensed, and his gaze returned to his mother, devoid of the earlier lightness.
“I’d forgotten what a fuss,” Michael chuckled bitterly.
“What fuss? These are our tastes! Rules! Traditions, really! You never complained!”
“I? As a kid, I feared upsetting dad. As I grew, I avoided fighting with you.”
“What are you talking about?!” Emily cried, prompting another round of barking from Luna. “Shh!” Emily stomped, scolding the dog guarded by Sarah. “She, of course, makes her own choices,” Emily glanced at Sarah, “but why allow yourself to be walked over? Happy to choke down trash and turn the house into a zoo. Are you the man of the house or not?”
“I am,” Michael replied grimly.
“Act like it!” Emily exhaled with relief and a sense of accomplishment.
“Where’s your luggage?” Michael asked his mother.
“Still in the hall!” she complained. “And I’m hungry from the journey.”
“Great. Thank Sarah for inviting you.”
“What?”
“Thank Sarah for one last attempt to build bridges and apologize.”
“But she…”
“Mother!”
“Th-thank you and sorry,” Emily grudgingly hissed.
Sarah nodded graciously.
“Shall we go?”
“Go where?”
“Where tastes, rules, and traditions suit you.”
“But Michael, I!”
“The dislikes were Dad’s and yours: soup, animals, countryside. My views were never considered. But Dad once told me something good: ‘Don’t like our ways? Make your own.’ I did, Mom. Here are my tastes, rules, traditions. And Sarah is the lady of this house. Don’t like it? You still have yours.”
“Son! She turned you against me!” Emily jumped to a plaintive whimper. “Enchanted you!” she whispered.
Fed up, Michael guided her to the hallway, retrieved her bag, opened the door, silently led her to the gate, and said:
“Sarah, for what it’s worth, was on your side. Her relations with her family are good. She didn’t believe things could be like they are with us. There was a separate dish for you. But the stew, Mom, was the tell-all. You showed every color,” Michael pushed open the door to the street. “The taxi awaits.”
“But… when did you call it?” puzzled, Emily murmured, still stunned at Michael’s raw honesty.
“I told Sarah to delay its return. Seems I was right.”
“You, you!” Emily fumed.
“Me, Mom, the man of the house. Like you wanted,” Michael gestured to the taxi driver, set her bag down, and, without waiting for her to enter the car, passed back through the gate, closing it.
“Enchanted,” Emily muttered decisively, convinced of her son’s condition. Settling into the taxi, she rummaged her phone, hunting for ways to break this curse. Something had to return her son!
