An Unwanted Guest: When Hospitality Meets a Ban
In a small town near Lyon, this isnt a shortterm fixwell be here for a while, at least until my maternity leave ends. Three months ago I gave birth to our daughter Amélie, and since then she has become the centre of our lives. Yet, instead of a gentle family harmony, I feel like a prisoner in a house where my motherinlaw dictates the rules, and my own mother isnt even allowed to visit.
Genevièves flat is roomya threeroom apartment with a generous kitchen and a balcony It could comfortably accommodate four people. Antoine owns a share of it, yet we occupy only one bedroom so as not to disturb anyone. I breastfeed Amélie, we share the same bed, and everyone seems to accept it. But living here has turned into a daily battle. Geneviève isnt a fan of cleaning, so all the household chores fall on me. Before the baby arrived I spent hours clearing years of dust, and now I keep the place in order at any costessential with a newborn. Laundry, ironing, cooking everything is my responsibility. Geneviève never even steps into the kitchen. Fortunately Amélie is calmshe sleeps or coos in her crib while I hustle like an ant.
My motherinlaw doesnt lift a finger. She used to at least do the dishes, but now she does nothing. She leaves her dirty plates on the table and disappears. I stay silent to avoid conflict, but inside Im boiling. Isnt rinsing a bowl after soup so hard? Its a trivial thing that wears me down. I clean, I cook, while she watches TV or chats on the phone. I try to keep the peace, yet each day drains me a little more.
Recently Geneviève announced she would be leaving in the autumn to visit family in Provence. Her niece is getting married, and she wants to use the occasion to reunite with sisters and nephews. I was thrilled: finally Antoine, Amélie and I would be alone, like a real family! On the same day my mother, Élodie, called. She lives far away near Bordeaux and has never met her granddaughter. I missed her and she wanted to come. I was over the moonshe could hold Amélie, and I would feel a bit at home. A double joy, and I couldnt wait to share the news that evening.
But my happiness vanished quickly. When I mentioned my mothers visit, Genevièves expression changed. I will not let strangers into my home while Im away! she declared. Strangers? She was talking about my mother, Amélies grandmother! I was stunned. How could she treat my mother that way? Yes, they arent close, but they met at our wedding. At that time we were renting, and my mother stayed with us because Geneviève was hosting distant relatives. That was three years agodoes that make her a complete unknown?
Geneviève dug in. She accused me of plotting with my mother, as if we were waiting for her to leave to take over the flat. She had already bought her tickets, but now she suspected my mothers visit was a ruse. Your mother hasnt been in touch for two years and suddenly shows up? Too easy! she shouted. I tried to explain that my mother simply wanted to see her granddaughter, but Geneviève remained unmoved. She threatened to cancel her trip to watch over her property, as if it were a goldfilled castle rather than a modest threeroom apartment with faded wallpaper.
I told my mother everything, unable to keep it to myself. She was sad but offered to postpone her visit until summer to avoid the conflict. Geneviève actually cancelled her tickets. Now she patrols the flat like a guardian, watching my every move as if I were a potential thief. I feel humiliated. My mother, who longs to hold Amélie, must give up because of Genevièves whims. And I, who am legally on the lease, am not even allowed to invite my own family.
My heart aches. I pour myself into this housecleaning, cooking, creating a pleasant atmosphereonly to receive suspicion and bans in return. Antoine stays out of it, but I can see hes uncomfortable. Who is right? Geneviève, defending her apartment like a fortress? Or me, simply wanting my mother to meet her granddaughter? My mother is not a stranger; she is family. Yet Geneviève sees me as a threat, and my wishes as traps. I am exhausted from living under her control, exhausted from feeling like a guest in what should be my home. This situation pierces my heart, and I have no idea how to escape without shattering everything.
