Close my refrigerator and get out, the daughterinlaw finally says, exhausted by her motherinlaws endless inspections.
The frontdoor keys jingle so familiarly that Emma doesnt even look up from her laptop. Its Tuesday, half past ten in the morning. Margaret Whitaker has just arrived.
Emma, just a minute! a voice calls from the hallway. Ive brought you some vitaminsthere was a promotion at the chemistand some kelp, fresh from a new supplier.
Emma closes her eyes and counts to ten, then to twenty. The deadline on her project burns, and thenagain
Good morning, Margaret, she says, forcing a level tone as she steps out of the room.
Her motherinlaw has already slipped off her shoes and, without waiting for an invitation, strides into the kitchen with a huge tote bulging with jars and bags.
You mentioned you had a meeting with suppliers today, Emma reminds her, watching Margaret start to unload the bag onto the counter.
Oh, that was moved. No big deal, Margaret waves it off. Ive managed to drop by. Its been a week since I was last here.
Three days, Emma thinks. Three days ago Margaret popped in for a minute to replace their usual tea with a herbal blend she considered harmful because of the caffeine.
Heres vitamin D, omega3, and an immunity complex. The news says everyone needs it now. Young people never think about health, Margaret announces, opening the fridge as Emma feels a tight coil of tension coil in her stomach.
Margaret, Im in the middle of a urgent project James is too, Emma says.
I wont bother you, deardont mind me! Margaret pulls out a pack of pricey prosciutto. Oh, Emma, thats full of nitrates! I just watched a documentary where experts said all that cured meat is pure chemistry. It causes cancer, you know. And you and James are planning children?
Emma clenches her fists. She bought the prosciutto at an upscale farm shop, specifically choosing a version without preservatives. Explaining that now would be pointless.
Whats this? Wine? Margaret produces a bottle of expensive red, the same one Emma had saved for their wedding anniversary. Alcohol is poison, pure poison, especially at your age when your body needs to slow down.
We dont
Instead Ive brought wonderful kelpfull of iodine and trace mineralsand some liveculture yoghurts. Thats the real good stuff!
The prosciutto goes into a bag, followed by an expensive cheese James loves. Margaret places the wine on the table with a condemning stare.
Should we pour it out, or will you do it? she asks.
Well do it ourselves, Emma replies through clenched teeth.
She watches the fridge shelves empty of their food and fill with kelp jars, lowfat yoghurts and various supplements. Anger builds inside her, but she keeps her composure, as always.
Maybe we could keep the cheese? James likes it, Emma suggests.
James wont even notice! Hell notice the health impact. Men over thirty start storing cholesterol, its terrible. No, I know what my son needs, Margaret insists.
When the fridge is reorganised, Margaret heads for the bathroom. Emma freezes, feeling the pressure rise.
Whats that in the bathroom? Margaret calls out. Emma, thats wasteful money! I brought you a childrens creammuch healthier and more natural. Your lotions are full of silicones; the skin cant breathe.
Emma walks slowly into the bathroom. The expensive French body lotion she saved two months to buy sits in a bag next to her favourite hand cream and a freshly bought mascara.
This toothpaste is nonsense, Margaret continues, ignoring Emmas stonecold expression. Powder was the way we cleaned teethno fluoride, which is proved harmful.
Something snaps in Emmas gut. She turns back to her laptop, but her hands tremble. She texts James in the next room: Mums here again. I cant take this anymore.
He replies after five minutes: Hang on, love. She means well. Im in a meeting, Ill talk to her later.
In his voice, wellmeaning is a mantra he repeats after every visit from Margaret. Shes rearranged every cupboard because its inconvenient, tossed half the spices because theyre too spicy and bad for the stomach, swapped their laundry detergent for household soap because powders are allergens, and even rummaged through their wardrobes, insisting clothes should be given to the poor because its wasteful. Emma discovers her favourite cocktail dress, the one James proposed in, has vanished.
Emma, Margaret says, returning to the kitchen. Are you dusting the cupboards? I noticed dust on the shelves and the chandelier. Need a hand? You seem swamped, the house is getting neglected
A click sounds inside Emmas head. She finally looks up at Margaret and sees, for the first time in months, a smug expression, a habit of ordering, a certainty in her own righteousness.
Im not neglecting the house, Emma says slowly. Im working remotely. Thats called a job, if youre not aware.
Margaret blinks, clearly not expecting that tone.
Im just trying to help
Help? Emma stands. Youre throwing away our food, swapping our cosmetics, rummaging through our closets, showing up several times a week without notice. You have a spare key to our flat for emergencies, yet you use it as if its your own home!
James is my son, I have a right
James is an adult with his own family! Emmas voice cracks with tension. He has his own flat, his own life! You dont even ask if you can come in!
Margarets face turns pale.
I thought I was doing you a favour. Youre young, inexperienced
Im thirtyone! Emma feels tears well upanger, helplessness, years of builtup stress. I graduated with a firstclass degree, I work for a multinational, I can cook, clean and choose my own skincare. I dont need a nanny!
Youre shouting at me? At an old woman?
Youre fiftyeight, you drive fine, youre in great shape, Emma retorts. Stop pretending to be frail!
Margaret opens the fridge automaticallyout of habitand Emma finally snaps. All the politeness, all the MrsWhitaker and you evaporate.
Close my refrigerator and get out, the daughterinlaw declares, exhausted by the constant checks. This is my home, my fridge, my life. If you cant respect boundaries, theres no place for you here.
Silence hangs. Margaret stands, mouth open, then grabs her tote and storms to the room where James usually works.
James! James! Margarets voice trembles. Did you hear her? I do so much for you and sheshe kicks me out!
Whats happened? Mum crying?
Go away, Emma says as James steps out of his makeshift office.
Margaret rushes to her son.
James, I only wanted to helpbring vitamins, healthy foodand she she shouts at me! She says horrible things!
James looks at his wife, who stands unnervingly calm. On the kitchen table lies a heap of discarded groceries, a bag of cosmetics, a bottle of soap from the bathroom. In the fridge sit kelp and lowfat yoghurts.
Emma
James, Margaret interrupts. We need to talk. Right now. And you need to hear this too.
I wont allow
Margaret, Emma says, turning back. Either we set rules now, or Im packing my things and leaving. I have a flat I sublet. Youll have to decide who matters moreyour wife or your mother, who doesnt respect you or your family.
James whispers, You cant be serious.
I am completely serious. I cant live like this. Youre visited three times a week without warning. You throw away our food, change our toiletries, check our cupboards, criticize how I run the house, and you act like its innocent.
What if shes just trying to help
Help? Emma picks up the prosciutto pack. This cost thirty pounds. I bought it from a farm shop, checked the label. She threw it away because a TV show said cured meat is harmful. This, she holds up the bottle of lotion, cost me two pounds. She swapped it for a cheap childrens cream.
James is silent. Margaret sniffles.
Mum, is this true? Youre tossing her personal things?
Im replacing the harmful with the useful! For her own good!
Without permission? Jamess voice hardens. Were adults. We have our own flat.
But Im her mother! I know better!
No, James says firmly, and for the first time Emma feels a flicker of hope. You dont know. Emma is my wife. This is our home. If she says youre crossing a line, then thats the line.
Mum
Mum, I love you, but Emmas right. You cant just turn up whenever you like and do what you want. This isnt your flat.
Margaret looks at her son as if betrayed. She grabs her tote and heads for the door.
So Im not needed. Fine. Live as you wish. When you get sick from all that chemistry you eat, dont come back!
Mom, James intercepts her at the door. Were not saying we dont need you. Were saying we need rules. Call before you visit. Dont touch our stuff. Dont swap the food in the fridge. If you want to bring something, ask first. Respect our space. Thats all.
Margarets lips press together.
And the keys, Emma adds softly. Leave them. You wont need them for emergencies.
Thats the last drop. Margaret pulls the key ring from her bag, flings it onto the side table and darts out. The front door slams, shaking the walls.
James and Emma stand in the hallway, silent for a long moment.
Im sorry, James finally says. I didnt realise it was this bad. Youve told me so many times, I just brushed it off.
I know, Emma whispers, feeling the adrenaline drain, leaving exhaustion behind. I dont want to deprive you of your mother, but I cant live under constant tension, waiting for her to redo everything.
I wont, James embraces her. I promise Ill talk to her properly, set clear boundaries.
That evening Emma cooks a dinner from the few items they managed to save. James calls his mother, patient but firm, explaining the new rules. Margaret doesnt answer the first five rings, then finally picks up, cries, accuses, demands. He doesnt give up.
Mom, either we live by these rules or we stop talking altogether. Choose.
A long pause.
You choose her over me, Margaret finally says.
I choose my family. Emma is my family, youre my family too, but the hierarchy is clearwife first, then parents. We have to accept that.
Margaret hangs up.
For the next two weeks she disappearsno calls, no doorbell when James arrives. Emma watches James struggle, but she doesnt let herself give in. This is their chance to cement boundaries once and for all.
Then, on a Saturday morning, James receives a text: Can I come over at four? Id like to bring you a pieapple, just the way you like it.
He shows it to Emma.
A pie? she mutters. She wants to bring a pie. Is that okay?
She asked first, James smiles. First time in years.
Tell her well be happy to see her.
At four, the doorbell rings. Margaret stands on the step, holding a pie, neatly dressed but tense.
Good afternoon, she says, glancing sideways.
Hello, Mum. Come in, James says.
She steps into the kitchen, places the pie on the table. An awkward silence follows.
Thank you for the pie, Emma says. James loves it.
Margaret nods, silent. Emma, Ive thought about what you said. About boundaries. Its hard for me to accept, but I understand youre adults. This is your life.
Mom
Wait, James, Margaret holds up a hand. Ive spent my whole life trying to control everything. I was scared youd forget me, that Id become useless. Thats why I kept showing up, helping, but I did it wrong. I get it now.
Emma feels something loosen in her chest. For the first time she sees not a meddling foe but a woman terrified of loneliness.
Margaret, you are welcome. Not by policing our fridge or swapping our creams, but as a family memberlike a grandmother to future grandchildren, a mother to James, Emma says.
I can learn, Margaret whispers. If you give me a chance.
Of course, James embraces his mother. But with rules, right?
Rules, she agrees, then asks, May I still bring something occasionally? A pie, jam? I just love cooking and sharing.
Sure, Emma smiles. Just give us a headsup, and no more kelp replacing our groceries.
No kelp, Margaret promises, finally smiling genuinely.
That night the three of them share tea and apple pie. The conversation is tentative, the wounds still fresh, but its a new dialogue with new rules. When Margaret finally leaves, she doesnt rummage through the fridge, peek into the bathroom, or inspect the wardrobes.
May I visit next Sunday? she asks at the door. If thats okay with you.
Come on over, Mum, James replies. Well be glad to see you.
As the door shuts, Emma leans against Jamess shoulder.
Its only the beginning. Changing habits takes time, and Margaret will slip up again, trying to regain control. New conflicts will arise, new tough conversations. But the crucial thing happenedthe boundary is set, clear and unmistakable.
Now Emma knows she can repeat those words whenever needed, calmly and firmly: Close my refrigerator and get out. Because this is her home, her life, her choice, and that choice is not up for debate.
