So, why on earth have you decided to get a divorce? asked her mother-in-law, as if she were personally appointed to conduct the inquisition. Emma had no desire to live with her husbands parentsshed made that perfectly clear. But Tom had pleaded, going on and on about how his mother couldnt bear to see her little boy (aged thirty-four, mind) move out. Emma had felt sorry for him. Pity, as it turned out, was a rotten basis for a marriage.
We just have different outlooks on life. It happens. Were hardly the first, and we certainly wont be the last, Emma replied, though in truth she could have happily listed the actual reasons with bullet-point precision.
The real culprit? Toms mother would ring him every single day via video call to check that Emma hadnt set fire to the laundry, poisoned the cat, or stacked the dishwasher the wrong way. This went on even during the rare days when she didnt pop round in person. At their wedding, when she graciously toasted the happy couple, she had intoned, Im so thrilled my darling son is finally married. Of course, he could have done rather better, but there you are. No offence, dear.
Perhaps Emma should have legged it then and there. Mrs. Cartwright had been itching for Emma to leave Tom and did her very best to nudge things along. Tom, meanwhile, was as effective at defending his wife as a chocolate teapot. There was that memorable incident when Tom and Emma drove past his parents house, and Mrs. Cartwright refused to let Emma in. I need a word with my son. Alone. Tom said nothing. Emma spent an hour standing outside in the drizzle, contemplating her life choices.
So why didnt she leave sooner? Truthfully, Emma didnt know. But at last, shed had enough.
Oh, spare me the melodrama, Mrs. Cartwright huffed one evening, after another round of awkward questions. Differences in opinionswhat nonsense. Thats only in the movies. Now, go on, what dont you like about my Tom? Be honest. Hes not at all the type of man Id have picked for you, but if youre going to leave, you may as well spell it out.
Emma flashed a sly smile. Permission was irrelevant at this point; she was leaving for her own sake. Shed moved in only out of affection for Tom. The true reason for leaving? His mother, full stop.
Im leaving, declared Emma, steady as a rock.
I forbid it, Mrs. Cartwright barked.
Emma simply shrugged. Forgive me if I dont take that terribly seriously. You mean nothing to me.
Well, at least give me back half the cost of the ring! shrieked Mrs. Cartwright.
Im sorry, what was that? Emma blinked in disbelief.
I want half the money for the ring back. The one my son bought you.
Emma laugheda real, belly laugh. Are you referring to the only thing Tom has ever purchased himself? You can have it. I certainly dont need it.
And so that was thatthe end. Emma often found herself questioning how she could have agreed to marry a man like Tom. His mothers true colours had been flying long before the wedding. How had she said yes? Only the heavens knew.
Recently, Emmas workmate piped up, By the way, Im getting married!
Really? Whos the lucky fella? asked Emma, not entirely sure she wanted the answer.
No offence, her colleague began, but Emma already knew.
Tom? Youre marrying Tom? My ex-husband Tom?
Dont be cross. I know how things went with you two. But its different for everyoneTom is so caring. And his mum is such a help to us all. Sometimes perhaps a little too much, but still.
Emma shrugged. Well, best of luck. Genuinely. Im just glad to be done with it all.
Oh, speaking ofyou have to see the ring Tom gave me! her colleague gushed, waggling her hand.
Emma didnt even need to look. There it was: the very same ring she herself had once been given. Not even a new onetrust Tom to save a few quid.
And look at the engraving! Forever Together, said the colleague.
Emma snorted. She rather wished someone would file off the inscription.
