The Mother I Owe Nothing To
Emma and Jack were preparing for their wedding. The day before the celebration, the brides mother, Anne Williams, came to meet Jacks mother, Margaret Brown. They gathered at Margarets home in London, discussing wedding details over tea. The next morning, as Anne was leaving, Emma walked her out.
“So, what do you think of Jack?” Emma asked.
“Hes a good lad,” Anne smiled, but then sighed heavily.
“Mum, whats wrong?” Emma frowned.
“Love, be cautious with his mother. Theres a lot you dont know yet.”
Those words soon made sense.
When Emma learned her mother-in-law planned to move in with them, she confronted Jack.
“Youll have to chooseme or your mum.”
“Im not choosing,” Jack replied calmly. “We stay as we are. She sorts herself out.”
“So, you wont let her move in?”
“Already told her no.”
“How did she take it?”
“Badly. Called me ungrateful. Said Id regret it.”
“Figures.”
Margaret had retired early after years as a flight attendant.
“Enough work,” shed declared, settling into a comfortable pensionfar better than most.
But she quickly realised it wasnt enough for her lifestyle. The solution? Shift her expenses onto her son.
“I raised you, educated you. Now its your turn to step up,” she told Jack at just 23. “Starting next month, you cover rent and groceries.”
“Fine,” he said. “But if Im paying, you stay out of my life.”
She agreedand to her credit, she kept her word. Jacks life didnt interest her much anyway. His grandparents had mostly raised him while she chased her own dreams, never quite succeeding.
Years passed. Jack grew up, moved back during university. For five years, he paid rent and kept her fed while she spent her pension on herself.
When Margaret turned fifty, Jack brought Emma home.
“Youre so polished!” Emma said awkwardly at their first meeting. “Not what I expected from a retiree.”
Learning theyd live with her, Margaret beamed”Brilliant!”thinking, *At least I wont cook anymore.*
Emma believed her sincerity, but Jack set her straight:
“She didnt dare kick us out. Ive paid for everything these past five years.”
Annes visit soon shattered any remaining illusions:
“Watch yourself, love. That woman lives for herself. Shell drop you the moment youre inconvenient. Hold onto your man. I like him. But his mothers bad news.”
Six months later, Margaret fell in love. A man named Andrew started visiting more and then
“Youve got two weeks to move out. Selling the flat. Moving to Manchester.”
“Youre serious?” Jack stared, stunned.
“Course I am. Its my flat. My parents left it to me.”
“Youre kicking us out?”
“Yep. Perfectly legal.”
Jack silently grabbed his coat and left. That evening, he and Emma packed their things, moving in with a mate who needed tenants. A month later, Margaret sold up and left with Andrew.
Days after, Jack asked to borrow money:
“Not a chance. Ive got plans for my cash,” Margaret replied coldly.
“Right. Good luck, then.”
“You too,” she smirked, not even hugging him goodbye.
A year passed. Margaret calledAndrew had taken her money and vanished. Homeless, she returned, demanding:
“Ill live with you now.”
“No. Take whats left, get a mortgage.”
“A mortgage? At my age? On a pension?”
“Find work. Sort yourself out, like everyone else.”
“So you wont help?”
“I owe you nothing, Mum.”
She exploded:
“Ungrateful wretch! I raised you!”
“Just following your example,” Jack said flatly.
Margaret couch-surfed until her money ran out. Rejection followed rejection. Eventually, she crawled back to Jack.
“Mum, youre not ill or frail. Get a job. Rent a room. Figure it out.”
“Dont you feel sorry for me?”
“No. Youre like that grasshopper who sang all summer.”
Later, Margaret landed on her feetnot with work, but another marriage. To the first man whod have her. At least she had a home.
But thats another story entirely.
