– I’m not going to eat this, – her mother-in-law, Margaret, looked disdainfully at the plate of stew.
– What is it? – Margaret wrinkled her nose, sniffing as if a bucket of garbage had been set on the table.
– It’s stew, – smiled her daughter-in-law, Lily, as she removed the lid from a ceramic pot and began serving the hearty, colorful broth. – There’s something so satisfying about cooking with vegetables from your own garden.
– I don’t see the appeal, – Margaret sniffed. – It takes so much time and effort to tend a garden!
– True, – Lily laughed kindly. – But when it’s your hobby, it’s a joy.
– Right, when it’s yours. Not when it’s imposed on you, – Margaret muttered, pursing her lips. – Who did you make all of this for?
– For us. There’s not much. Enough for a couple of meals.
– I won’t eat this slop, – Margaret waved her hands dramatically and stepped back from the table. – Who knows what’s in it? – Margaret feigned a gag and turned sharply away, covering her mouth with her hand.
Lily rolled her eyes and sighed.
She had met Margaret’s son, John, a year and a half ago. They fell in love at first sight and tied the knot within a month, skipping any big celebrations.
They saved their money and invested in their dream – a countryside cottage, which they continued to lovingly renovate.
In this time, Lily met Margaret only four times. The same number as John. In fact, three of these visits were because Lily convinced John they should visit his mom during the holidays.
Since the beginning, Margaret considered John’s marriage a whim. But she couldn’t control her grown, independent son and had to wait for what she believed was the inevitable outcome.
But it hadn’t happened yet, and that was making her anxious.
Margaret genuinely couldn’t understand what John saw in this “ordinary girl,” and why Lily captivated him.
John was a striking man, always surrounded by charming and worthy girls.
Moreover, Margaret was a city person through and through, having raised her son the same way. Her maternal instincts told her John was already fed up with rural life, and a little push would set everything back the way it was.
After such a disappointing experience, he would surely find a suitable partner, one Margaret could befriend.
But she had to act fast to prevent cunning Lily from tying him down with a baby!
The plan formed on its own: Margaret called Lily and invited herself over, as she had never been asked for a housewarming.
Lily reminded her she had invited her twice over the phone, but Margaret always declined, citing her busy schedule. Margaret waved this off and expressed readiness to visit her son.
Two days later, she stood in the bright, spacious living room, unable to conceal her indignation.
Her son, like her late husband, John’s father, detested soups!
In their family, they only served dishes recognizable at a glance.
How could John let his wife take charge so soon?
Was there some kind of enchantment?
Margaret shuddered at the thought. It made her uncomfortable.
She quickly dismissed the crude thought that Lily kept John with bedroom antics.
Antics and Lily? Incompatible!
Surely, magic!
How else to explain her son eating this mess?
Margaret scowled at her daughter-in-law with malice.
Playing innocent while slowly driving her husband to ruin.
– How can you say it’s unclear what’s here? – Lily, unimpressed by Margaret’s theatrics, picked up another bowl, ladled stew into it, and turned directly towards Margaret. – You can see everything. There’s cabbage. This is onion. Here’s carrot. And beetroot, grated as per my grandma’s recipe. Oh, and I’ll fish out some potatoes with the next scoop. Then add my garden’s greens and a dollop of cream!
– You might as well eat boiled bran! – Margaret clapped her hands in disbelief.
– It might do you good at your age! Bran helps regulate digestion and improves gut health. Happy gut, happy self!
Margaret reddened at her daughter-in-law’s bluntness but ignored it and pressed on:
– Why are you forcing John to eat this?
Lily blinked in surprise.
– He seems to eat it willingly.
– What choice does he have if there’s nothing else?
– He could cook what he likes, order in, visit the neighbor, or pop by and see you. – Lily listed her suggestions with a smirk.
At the last option, Margaret flushed even more.
– Don’t be cheeky! You could show some respect and ask me what John likes.
– Margaret, I did ask him. He’s a grown man, you know. Thanks to you, he can speak quite well. He says he likes it all.
– He’s lying! Clearly, he didn’t want to upset you early on. Now he’s choking it down!
– Oh dear! – Lily sighed, her face long, as she said: – Well, the stew’s made. Can’t throw it away, can I? He’ll just have to suffer through it. But you’ll support your son, right?
– What?! – Margaret glared at Lily.
– No? What a shame. I’m sure he’d appreciate your solidarity.
– You little…
– Lily! We’re back! – John’s cheerful voice rang out from the hallway.
Into the room bounded a fluffy white dog, barking loudly.
– Ahhhh! – screamed Margaret, hiding behind Lily.
– Don’t worry, it’s Lara. She’s harmless. Very well-trained, too, – Lily raised a hand, and the dog sat obediently, looking up at her. – Good girl, you’re so clever.
– Why do you let neighbor’s dogs inside the house? – Margaret croaked in shock.
– She’s ours. And she’s indoors because she’s a house dog.
– In the house?! But that’s unhygienic! – exclaimed Margaret, appalled. – And John doesn’t like dogs!
– No, Mum, you don’t like dogs. Hello, – said John, entering the living room. – Perfect timing for lunch.
– Hello, son! – Margaret didn’t move, expecting him to come over and kiss her cheek, but John merely gave her a slight hug while Lily received a tender kiss on the lips.
– Shall we eat? – John inhaled deeply, his face breaking into a smile.
– I’d love to, Johnny, but there’s nothing to eat.
– What do you mean, nothing?
– Just pig food. You didn’t mention you have pigs now. Imagine the smell, worse than city traffic fumes.
John looked at his mum, then at Lily, and finally at the table.
His neck muscles tensed, and he returned his gaze to his mother, devoid of the lightness it held moments ago.
– Honestly, I nearly forgot all these quirks, – John chuckled bitterly.
– What quirks, son? It’s our tastes! Our rules! Traditions, for goodness’ sake! You never complained!
– Me? When I was young, I feared angering Dad. As I grew older, I avoided arguments with you.
– What are you saying?! – Margaret shouted, startling Lara into barking again. – Stop that! – Margaret stamped her foot, waving a fist at the dog Lily was holding. – People have their preferences, – Margaret glared at Lily, – but how can you be such a pushover, letting yourself be walked over? Enjoying this slop? Turning your home into a zoo. Are you the master here or not?
– I am, – John replied grimly.
– Act like it, then! – Margaret exhaled her tension with a sense of accomplishment.
– Where’s your luggage? – John asked his mother.
– Still in the hall! – she complained instantly. – And I’m still hungry from the journey.
– Brilliant. Thank Lily for inviting you.
– What?..
– Thank Lily for this final effort to patch things up, and apologize.
– But she…
– Mum!
– Thank you and sorry, – Margaret hissed through gritted teeth.
Lily nodded politely.
– Let’s go.
– Where?
– Somewhere with your tastes, your rules, your traditions.
– But, John, I…! – Margaret tried to reason, but John interrupted:
– It was you and Dad who disliked soup, animals, the countryside. My opinions never mattered much. Dad once gave me great advice: “Don’t like our way? Make your own.” I did, Mum. My tastes, my rules, my traditions. And the lady of this house is my wife. If you don’t like it, you still have your own place.
– Son! She’s turned you against me! – Margaret switched to a wail. – Bewitched you! – she added in a dramatic whisper.
John couldn’t take it, took his mother by the elbow, led her to the hallway, picked up her suitcase, opened the door, and silently escorted her to the gate, saying:
– Lily, by the way, was on your side. She’s got great relations with her family. She didn’t believe it could be like ours. There was a separate dish prepared for you in the kitchen. But the stew, Mum, was the litmus test. You showed your true colors, – John opened the door to the street: – Your taxi’s waiting.
– You… But… When did you call it?! – Margaret mumbled, not yet recovered from her son’s blunt honesty.
– I asked Lily to wait. Not to send it away right away. I was right.
– You! How dare you! – Margaret fumed.
– I’m the master here, Mum, like you wanted, – John signaled to the taxi driver, set his mother’s bag on the ground, and, without waiting for her to get in, went back through the gate and shut the door.
– Bewitched, – Margaret concluded about her son’s condition, and, once seated in the taxi, pulled out her phone to search for ways to break such a spell. Something must exist to bring him back!
