They signed the papers yesterday, she’s moving in tomorrow, James announces in the hallway.
Eleanor, just look at these prices! the neighbour, Margaret Harris, points at the shop window. Theyre asking three pounds a kilo for tomatoes! Its daylight robbery!
It feels like a constant bleed, Eleanor shakes her head, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. You could have lived on a pension once, now youre just scraping by.
Are you living alone? Doesnt your son help?
I live with my son. James is always busy, works long hours. He does bring in money, but you hardly see him at home.
At least thats something, Margaret sighs. My children have all moved out; I only see my grandchildren on holidays.
They part ways, and Eleanor heads home. Her arms feel heavy from the shopping bags, her legs ache after drifting from store to store. At sixtythree, she feels the years more keenly each day.
The flat greets her with silence. James isnt there, as usual. Eleanor puts the groceries away, fills the kettle, and sits by the window with a mug of tea, watching the grey autumn courtyard.
Her life has been calm and ordered since her husband died fifteen years ago. Shes grown used to solitude and learned to manage on her own. She raised James, gave him an education, and helped him stand on his own feet.
James is now thirtyfive, a programmer at a large firm, earning a good salary. They share a threebedroom flat that her late husband once got from the factory. James occupies one bedroom, Eleanor the second, the third is the living room. They each live their own lives, only crossing paths at dinner, and even then not always.
Eleanor doesnt complain. James is a good son, contributes financially, doesnt drink, doesnt cause trouble. His love life, however, is a string of shortterm flings, never anything serious.
Mum, dont rush me, he says whenever she gently brings up marriage. Ill find the right time.
And now it seems he has. For the past six months he stays out later, comes home less often. He answers questions evasively, but Eleanor sees the glow of love in his eyes.
Will you introduce me to her? she asks one evening.
I will, Mum. When the time comes.
That time arrives unexpectedly. Eleanor is washing dishes after dinner when the front door swings open. James is back earlier than usual.
Mum, are you home? his voice sounds excited.
Im in the kitchen!
He steps into the doorway, hair tousled, eyes bright. Eleanor instantly knows something important has happened.
Mum, I need to tell you something.
Go on, Im listening.
James walks into the living room, Eleanor follows. He paces, choosing his words.
They signed the papers yesterday, shes moving in tomorrow, he finally blurts out, stopping in the centre of the room.
Eleanor sinks onto a chair. The world tilts.
What? she manages to gasp.
I got married. Yesterday we signed the register. Olivia moves in tomorrow.
James, youre joking?
No, Mum. Im serious.
Why didnt you tell me?
It just happened spontaneously.
Spontaneously? A marriage on a whim? Eleanors voice trembles.
Mum, dont start. Im an adult; I make my own decisions.
Ive never even seen this Olivia!
Youll meet her tomorrow. Shes a good person; youll like her.
Eleanor sits, unable to move. The shock is so strong her throat tightens.
Mum, say something, James crouches beside her.
What should I say? Congratulations? After you barely warned me?
Im warning you now.
After youve signed! Thats not a warning, thats a fact!
Im sorry, it just happened.
She rises, retreats to her bedroom, closes the door, drops onto the bed, and buries her face in her hands. Tears stream down her cheeks, but she fights back sobs.
She spends the night awake, turning over thoughts about Olivia, about Jamess sudden wedding, wondering if Olivia is pregnant.
In the morning, she wakes with a heavy head and red eyes. James has already left for work, leaving a note on the kitchen counter: Mum, well be back this evening. Please have dinner ready. Love you.
Love you sounds easy, but how does she feel?
She mechanically starts cooking. She boils a pot of soup, fries meatballs, tosses a salad. Her hands move on autopilot while her mind races.
By evening she has mopped the floors, dusted, set the table. The flat is tidy and cosy, but a pair of cats seem to gnaw at her heart.
The door opens around eight oclock. Eleanor is at the sink wiping her hands with a towel, heart pounding as if it might jump out.
Mum, were home! Jamess voice is bright and happy.
She steps into the hallway. James stands with a womantall, slender, long blonde hair, striking makeup. She looks about twentyfive.
Mum, this is Olivia. Olivia, this is my mum, Eleanor.
Hello, the woman says, extending a hand with a smile.
Hello, Eleanor shakes the cool hand.
Olivia wears an expensive leather jacket, trendy jeans, a glittering gold chain around her neck, looking as if she stepped out of a fashion magazine.
James told me youre cooking dinner. How sweet! Olivia chirps, taking off her jacket.
James hears his mothers startled James and winces. No one ever called him that.
Please, come into the kitchen, Eleanor says curtly.
At dinner Olivia talks nonstop, bragging about the wedding, how wonderful James is, how happy she is. James looks at her with adoring eyes, hanging on every word.
Eleanor eats the soup in silence, nodding occasionally. Everything feels off: the chatty daughterinlaw, Jamess gaze, the suddenness of it all.
Eleanor, may I call you Mum? Olivia asks, batting her eyelashes.
Whatever you like, Eleanor replies coldly.
Oh, wonderful! I dont have a mother; mine died long ago. Now I have a lovely motherinlaw!
After dinner James shows his wife around the flat. Eleanor stays to clear the table, hearing their laughter and Olivias footsteps.
That will be our bedroom, James says.
Where will Mum sleep? Olivia asks, feigning surprise.
She has her own room, of course.
Oh, right.
Eleanor bites her lip, wondering if Olivia thinks shell give up her room. Not that she will.
That night, after the young couple settles into Jamess room, Eleanor lies in hers, hearing muffled voices and laughter through the walls. She feels lonely and bitter.
In the morning she rises early as always, heads to the kitchen to make breakfast. Olivia appears an hour later, yawning and stretching.
Good morning, Mum! she sings.
Good Eleanor mutters.
Oh, youre already prepping breakfast? So thoughtful!
I always make breakfast.
I never like eating in the morning, just coffee.
James loves a hearty breakfast.
Hell get used to it, Olivia says cheerfully, pouring herself a coffee.
Eleanor flips cottagecheese fritters on the stove, thinking Olivia will soon try to change Jamess habits.
James sits down, Eleanor plates a stack of fritters and pours tea.
Thanks, Mum, he smiles.
James, are you really going to eat that? Olivia grimaces. So many calories!
Thats how I always start the day.
Id watch my figure if I were you.
James looks between his wife and his mother. Eleanor turns away, trying not to show how much it hurts.
After breakfast Olivia begins unpacking. Shes brought three huge suitcases and dozens of boxes, filling Jamess room, hanging things in the wardrobe.
James, where do I store my makeup? Theres no space!
Well find somewhere.
Maybe we can ask Mum to clear a shelf in the bathroom?
Eleanor, passing by, stops.
Theres no free shelf in the bathroom.
How can that be? Olivia peeks in. Theres a whole cabinet!
Those are my things.
Can you move them a bit?
I cant.
Olivia pouts, looking annoyed at James.
Mum, could you free up a shelf, please? James asks.
Eleanor quietly goes into the bathroom, shifts her jars, frees a shelf, returns, and shuts the door. Tears well up again. She feels like an intruder in her own home.
A week passes. Olivia settles in, rearranging furniture, hanging pictures.
Eleanor, shall we move the sofa in the lounge? Itll feel cozier! she suggests.
Its been there for twenty years.
Change is good!
I dont need change.
Come on, Eleanor, tell Mum itll be better!
James darts between his wife and his mother, trying to please everyone. The sofa finally moves. Eleanor says nothing, retreating to her room.
Olivia doesnt like cooking; she arrives with ready meals, leaves dirty dishes. Eleanor silently cleans up after her.
Mum, youre such a good housewife! Olivia marvels. I cant cook at all.
I could teach you.
Why? Youre already brilliant at it!
Eleanor realises Olivia is simply using her, preferring to offload everything onto her motherinlaw.
One evening she plans to go to the shop. Olivia lounges on the sofa, watching TV.
Olivia, could you get some bread, please? Im tired.
Oh, Eleanor, Im exhausted today! Can James get it?
James is at work.
Then youll have to go yourself; you always do.
Eleanor grabs her bag and leaves. Tears sting her eyes again; even the daughterinlaw wont fetch a loaf.
She trudges back up the stairs, the heavy bag pulling at her arm, chest tight. She pauses on the landing to catch her breath.
At home Olivia is still on the sofa, James not yet back.
Ah, youre back! What did you buy?
Eleanor silently heads to the kitchen, starts unpacking groceries, hands shaking, heart racing.
Later that night, over dinner, Olivia announces:
James, lets throw a party! Invite my friends!
Great idea, James enthuses.
Mum, are you okay with that? Olivia asks, but theres no question in her tone.
Does anyone care about my opinion? Eleanor sighs.
Mum, come on, itll be fine, James pleads.
Please, I need quiet.
Oh, Eleanor, just once! Well keep it down! Olivia coaxes.
No.
James, tell her!
James looks from his mother to his wife.
Mum, please. Olivia wants to celebrate our wedding with friends.
The wedding was a month ago.
Better late than never!
Eleanor stands from the table.
Do whatever you like. Ill go to the neighbour.
The party happens on Saturday. Olivia invites ten noisy young people, bottles, loud music. Eleanor retreats to Mrs. Harriss flat, sipping tea and venting.
Oh, Eleanor, its classic! Mrs. Harris chuckles. Young wives always try to push out the motherinlaw!
Im not in their way!
Youre a hurdle just by being there. She needs a place to feel she owns the home.
This is my home!
Then defend it, or theyll trample you.
Eleanor returns late; the guests are still shouting, music thumping. She locks herself in her room.
Morning finds the flat in disarray: dirty dishes, ashtrays full, wine spilled on the table. Olivia and James sleep. Eleanor begins cleaning, washing dishes, wiping surfaces, mopping floors, working for three hours until everything looks presentable again.
Olivia wakes at lunch, stumbles into the kitchen, yawning.
Good morning! Oh, youve already tidied everything? Thanks!
Youre welcome, Eleanor replies flatly.
Wheres James?
Hes asleep.
Yesterday was such a fun night! Too bad you werent there!
Im not sorry.
Olivia pours herself coffee, sits down.
Eleanor, have you ever thought of moving somewhere else? Maybe to a friends or a relatives?
Eleanor freezes by the stove.
What?
Youre alone, were a young family. We need space, you see?
This is my flat.
Technically, yes, but James is your son, so its his too!
The lease is in my name.
Doesnt matter! Family matters more than paperwork!
Eleanor turns to Olivia.
Im not going anywhere. This is my home.
You wont stay with us forever!
I will, as long as Im alive.
But Im your son!
A son who tried to push his mother out.
Olivia pouts, looking dissatisfied.
Its not modern, young couples need freedom!
Theres little freedom in a threebedroom flat.
Little? Youre always in the kitchen, in the bathroom! I cant relax!
Eleanor steps out of the kitchen, avoiding further argument, sits in her room, covering her face with her hands. She realises they want her out of her own flat.
That evening she confronts James. He arrives from work, she calls him over.
Son, we need to talk seriously.
Im listening, Mum.
Your wife said I should move out because you need space.
James blushes.
Mum, she didnt mean it like that
What did she mean?
We just want a bit of alone time sometimes.
You have your own room.
That isnt enough. We want the whole flat.
James, this is my flat! Ive lived here all my life!
I know, Mum, but maybe I should think about moving in with Aunt Gill or someone?
Eleanor cant believe her ears. Her own son, who she raised, is asking her to leave?
Are you serious?
Mum, understand! Olivias young, she wants to feel shes in charge! When youre here, she cant!
Im not stopping her!
You are! Youre always criticising, sighing disapprovingly!
Im silent!
But your face looks like youre hurting me!
Youre hurting me! You want to throw me out of my home!
James stands up.
You know what, Mum? Im tired. I try to please everyone and end up upsetting everyone. Olivia is my wife; shes more important now.
He walks out. Eleanor remains seated, staring into emptiness. She feels less important than her own daughterinlaw.
That night she cant sleep, turning over thoughts, planning. By dawn she decides. She calls a realtor she found online.
I want to sell the flat.
Alright, well arrange an appraisal.
The realtor arrives the same day, inspects, gives a price. Eleanor agrees.
Where will you move? he asks.
Ill buy a onebedroom flat. I dont need much space.
Many are doing that nowchildren keep the big house, parents downsize.
Im not giving it away. Im selling and buying for myself.
He shrugs, starts the paperwork.
That evening at dinner Eleanor announces:
Im selling the flat.
James chokes, Olivia drops her fork.
What? they ask together.
Im selling it. Ill buy a onebedroom and live separately.
Mum, youve gone mad! James turns pale.
Im perfectly sane. You wanted freedom, you get it. The whole flat is mine.
But
My flat. I can do what I want with it.
Olivia jumps up.
You cant! Were family!
A family that wants to drive me out?
We didnt mean to! We just wanted you to be away now and then!
Ill go. Forever.
James grabs his head.
Mum, lets discuss this calmly!
Theres nothing to discuss. Decisions made. Tomorrow the realtor starts showing the place.
Where will we go?
Rent somewhere or buy your own. You earn well.
This isnt fair!
Its not fair for a mother to be driven out of her own home, Eleanor says, standing. Im only doing what I think is right.
She retreats to her room, locks the door, hears their raised voices.
Later James knocks.
Mum, open, please.
What do you wantShe finally embraces the change, packs a small box of treasured memories, and steps out into the fresh morning, ready to build a new, peaceful chapter of her own.
