Get out! bellowed Brian.
His mother-in-law, Mrs. Allen, began to get up, gripping the edge of the table. What are you doing, son
Im not your son! Brian grabbed her handbag and threw it into the hallway. I dont want to see you here ever again!
Maria flinched. In six years, shed never heard him shout like that.
Little Annie was sleeping, arms flung out like a tiny starfish. Maria gently straightened her blanket and stood for a moment, watching her daughter, her heart swelling with emotion. She had longed for this child for years, had poured so much of herself into becoming a mother.
She heard her husband return from his night shift. She knew by the shuffle of shoes in the hallway. Maria slipped out of the nursery, closing the door softly behind her. Brian was taking off his boots, pale and noticeably thinnerhe was working himself ragged to pay off the loans taken for IVF.
She asleep? he whispered.
Fast asleep. Ate, then dropped off.
Brian pulled Maria into a hug, burying his face in her neck. He almost never spoke about lovebut Maria knew how deeply grateful he was.
For not leaving, for not choosing someone healthier, for making him happy.
At sixteen, Brian had suffered mumps and, embarrassed, waited too long to tell his mother he was ill. The delay led to complications: nearly complete sterility.
My mum called, Brian muttered, arms still locked around her.
Maria tensed. What does Mrs. Allen want?
Shes coming round. Says shes baked pies and misses us.
Maria sighed, easing out of his embrace. Brian, do we really need this? Last time, her advice about douching with baking soda drove me up the wall.
She just wants to see Annie. Its been a year, and shes only seen photos Shes her grandmother, after all.
Grandmother, Maria smiled bitterly, who calls our daughter a mongrel
A year ago, theyd adopted Annie. The waiting lists for healthy newborns in their area were soul-crushing. A bit of help, an envelope thick with banknotes for the ward’s needs, and a discreet midwife got them through.
Annie had been born to a terrified sixteen-year-old girl completely unprepared for motherhood; the child wouldve destroyed her life.
Maria clearly remembered the daysuch a tiny bundle, just barely three kilograms, those deep blue eyes.
Alright, Maria turned to him, Let her come. Well survive. But if she starts again
She wont, Brian promised, Truly.
Mrs. Allen arrived at lunchtime, filling their flat with her booming presence. She was a large woman, loud, radiating an indomitable village energy you could imagine stopping a runaway horse or extinguishing a house fire with.
Oh, goodness me! she announced from the doorway, planting her checkered bag in the hall. Getting here was dreadful! Stuffy on the train, packed like sardines on the Tube.
And youve no idea how high up you are! That lift, groaning and shakingI thought Id pop my clogs!
Hello, Mum, Brian kissed her cheek and took her bag, Come in, wash your hands.
Mrs. Allen shed her coat and revealed a flowered dress stretched tightly over her impressive figure. Immediately, she fixed her gaze on Maria, scanning her from head to toe as if appraising a farm pony at market.
Hello, Mrs. Allen, Maria smiled.
Hello, hello, she pursed her lips, Youre looking rather scrawny, love. Nothing but skin and bones. Whats my Brian supposed to hang onto?
Brian, now, hes wasting away. Not feeding him properly? Starving your man while you peck at lettuce?”
“Brian eats perfectly well,” Maria replied, cheeks burning. “Please, come to the table.”
In the kitchen, Mrs. Allen began unpacking her bagboxes of homemade pies, a jar of pickled cucumbers, a slab of bacon.
Here, eat something real. In this city of yours, its all chemicals. Youre chewing plastic.
She sat, elbows heavily on the table.
So, tell me. How is life? Paid off those loans for your, eh, experiments?
Maria gripped her fork. Experiments. Thats what she called six long years of pain, hopes and despair.
Almost paid off, Mum, Brian grunted, helping himself to salad, Lets not talk about money.
What else is there to talk about? she retorted, chomping on a pie. Weather? Back home, your cousin Nicks wife just had their thirdgirl, healthy as ever. Were strong stock.
Proper family, Brian. We breed! She cast Maria a loaded look.
If you dont muck about with your genes, obviously
Maria set the fork down carefully.
Mrs. Allen, weve been through this a hundred times. Its not me. We have medical reports.
Oh, rubbish! waved off Mrs. Allen. Doctors write those reports to fleece you. Mumps? Nonsense.
Half the village lads had it, and all of them have kids galore.
Thats your wife spinning fairy tales, Brian, to hide her own failings.
Mum! Brian slammed his hand on the table. Enough!
With theatrical flourish, Mrs. Allen clutched her heart.
Dont you dare shout at your mother! I raised fiveall by hand! I know about life. Shes so scrawny, hips like a childhows she going to have kids? Shes barren.
Were happy, Mum, Brian said quietly. We have Annie.
Annie Mrs. Allen snorted. Lets have a look then.
They went into the nursery. Annie had woken and was sitting, fiddling with her teddy bear. She frowned at the unfamiliar woman, but did not cry. She was unusually calm for a toddler.
Mrs. Allen approached the cot. Maria hovered nearby, ready to protect Annie. You never knew with Mrs. Allen.
Mrs. Allen studied Annie for a long time, squinting. Eventually, she reached out and touched Annies chubby cheek. Annie recoiled.
So, whose is she, then? Mrs. Allen said with clear disapproval. Those eyesdark, not like our lot.
Her eyes are blue, Maria interjected, Deep blue.
And that nose, round like a potato. Youve a sharp nose, Brians is straight. But this
She straightened and shook her hands as though brushing away dirt.
Foreign stock, plain as day!
They returned to the kitchen. Brian poured himself some water, hands trembling.
Mum, listen he began, gently. We love Annie. Shes ours, in every waypapers, heart, everything.
And well keep trying for a baby ourselves. Doctors say its possible, though not likely. But even if notweve got a family.
Mrs. Allen pursed her lips, nearly bursting. For the mother of five, grandmother of twelve, it physically hurt to see her son wasting his life on a stranger.
Youre a fool, Brian, she finally exhaled. A proper fool. Thirty-five, in your prime. And youre fussing over a cast-off child!
Dont you dare call her that! Maria snapped.
Well, what do you want me to call her? Princess?
Youd do better to hush, love. You cant bear children yourself, led your man astray. Gave a bribe Bought her like a kitten at a market!
She is our child!
A child is your own, when you stay up all night, bear morning sickness, suffer through labour!
And her Mrs. Allen waved toward the nursery, Youre playing house. You took what was already made. Off some tarts hands.
Do you think genes can be blotted out? Shell give you hell as she grows. Be just like her real mother! Give her up before its too late!
Maria saw Brians eyes widen dangerously. He stood up slowly.
Get out, he said, voice trembling.
Mrs. Allen looked shocked.
What?
Get out, now! Brian roared.
Maria flinched again; in six years, never had she heard him raise his voice so.
What are you doing, son Mrs. Allen tried to get up, grasping for the table.
Im not your son! Brian grabbed her bag and hurled it into the hallway. I dont want you here! Give Annie away? How dare you?
You think a child is just a thing? Shes my daughter! Mine! And you you
He was breathless.
Youre no motheryoure a monster! Go back to your village and count your purebreds. Dont come near us! Never again!
A wail sounded from the nursery. Maria ran to the door, but stopped to see Mrs. Allens face changefrom rage to ashen pale.
Mrs. Allen gasped for air, clutching her chest, her hand twisting the fabric of her dress, then collapsed sideways, toppling the chair, her heavy fall mixing with Annies cries.
Maria called an ambulance. Brian knelt beside his mother, trembling, fumbling with her dress to unbutton it.
Mum, breathe! Mum!
Mrs. Allen wheezed.
The paramedics came quickly. The medic shouted from the doorway:
Heart attack. Massive. Stretcher! Fast!
When the doors slammed shut behind them, Brian slumped onto the hallway floor, back pressed to the wall. He stared at his mothers forgotten scarf lying on the sideboard.
Did I do this? he asked.
Maria sat next to him, holding his icy hand.
No. She did this to herself. All that rage.
Shes my mother, Maria.
She wanted us to throw away our daughter like faulty goods. Brian, wake up! You protected your family.
An hour later, Brians phone buzzed. It was his sister Tanya, then his brother Nickhe ignored their calls.
Then a message came from his aunt:
Mums in intensive care. Doctors say little chance. Youve killed her, you brute. Youre dead to us all! Dont bother coming!
Well, thats it then. Ive no family left.
Maria put her arms round his shoulders, feeling him tremble.
You do, she said firmly. Youve got me. Youve got Annie. We are your familythe real one. The kind that doesnt betray you.
She stood, taking his hand.
Come on. Annie needs feedingshes scared.
That evening, they sat in the kitchen. Annie, cheered up again, played with her blocks at their feet. Brian watched her as if seeing his child for the first time.
You know, he said suddenly, Mum was right about one thing.
Maria tensed.
Whats that?
Genes cant be erased. But genes arent just about eye colour or noses. Theyre about the ability to love.
My mother has five children, but love in her is like stone. Maybe Im adopted too? Because at least I know how to love. Right, sweetheart?
He scooped up Annie. She grabbed his nose and giggled, then suddenly and clearly said, Daddy!
For the very first timeit had always just been ba-ba and ma-ma before.
Brian froze. The tears hed held back all day finally came, trickling down onto Annies pink sleepsuit.
Daddy, he repeated softly. Yes, little one. Im your daddy. Ill never give you away.
His mother recovered, but Brian no longer speaks to her. To his relatives, hes now their black sheep.
Maria finds it hard to admit, but shes relievedits much easier living without endless resentment and derision.
Who needs family like that? Lifes better without themBrian pressed his cheek to Annies soft hair. Outside, the city hummed, oblivious. Inside, the three of them formed a silent constellation at the kitchen table, orbited by love fierce enough to weather any storm.
Maria cleared away crumbs, glancing up to catch Brian watching herthe kind of look that anchors you in a world gone sideways. She smiled. Tomorrow would bring calls, maybe more accusations, but the air in this homethin, warm, and tremblingfelt purer than ever before.
As Annie stacked her blocks, Maria sat down opposite Brian and watched the little girls careful fingers. With each bright chunk, she seemed to build something sturdier than wooda bridge across bloodlines, anger, and old hurts. Maria swallowed, tears pricking her eyes not from sorrow now, but a swelling hope.
Brian looked up at her, his eyes red and shining. Well give her our own stories, he whispered, and our own kind of family.
Maria nodded. She reached for Annie, gathering her into her lap. Brian scooted his chair closer, until his knees touched Marias.
Annie babbled, catching Marias finger in her tiny fist. The bitterness faded into the corners. The flat was small, ordinary, but within its walls they spun new legends with every soft bedtime and every hard-won laugh.
Tomorrow they would bake pieMarias recipe, not Mrs. Allens heavy-handed tradition. They would tip out the flour together, splatter the kitchen, feed the pigeons on the balcony crumbs. Annie would wobble on chubby legs, shriek with happiness, and call out Daddy! again and again, anchoring the word in the fabric of their home.
And if, one day, Annie asked about the people who chose not to love her, Maria would kneel beside her and tell her gently:
You fill our hearts. You are chosen, and cherished, and in every way ours.
Brian, resting his hand on Annies shoulder, would simply smile and say,
Family is what we build together, little one.
Their laughter rose, sweet and fierce. Outside, dusk pressed against the windowbut inside, love blazed enough for all of them.
