We signed the papers yesterday; she moves in tomorrow, the son announced in the hallway.
Eleanor Whitaker, just look at these prices! the neighbour, Dorothy Hughes, jabbed a finger at the shop window. Three hundred rubles a kilo for tomatoesits daylight robbery!
Indeed, its nothing but ruin, Eleanor shook her head, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. You could have lived on a pension before, now youre just scraping by.
Do you live alone? Doesnt your son help? Dorothy asked.
I live with my son. James is always busy, works a lot. He does bring in money, but you hardly see him at home.
At least thats something, Dorothy sighed. My own children have moved away; I only see my grandchildren on holidays.
They said goodbye, and Eleanor trudged home, her arms heavy with bags, her legs aching from the shoprun. At sixtythree the aches were becoming a daily visitor.
The flat was silent. James was absent, as usual. Eleanor unpacked the groceries, set the kettle on, and settled by the window with a mug of tea, watching the grey autumn courtyard.
Her life had been steady and quiet. Her husband had died fifteen years ago; she had grown used to solitude and learned to manage on her own. She had raised James, given him an education, helped him stand on his own feet.
James, now thirtyfive, worked as a software developer for a large firm and earned well. The threebedroom flat they shared had been bought by her late husband from the local steelworks.
James occupied one bedroom, Eleanor the second, the third was the living room. Each lived their own life, only crossing paths at dinnerand even then, not always.
Eleanor never complained. James was a good son; he sent money, didnt drink, didnt cause trouble. His love life, however, was a series of fleeting romances, nothing serious.
Mom, dont rush me, he would say whenever she gently broached the subject of marriage. Ill find the right one when the time comes.
It seemed he finally had. For the past six months he lingered later in the evenings, his visits home becoming rarer. He answered her questions evasively, but Eleanor could see the spark of love in his eyes.
Will you introduce me to her? she asked one afternoon.
I will, Mum. When the time is right.
The moment arrived unannounced. Eleanor was washing dishes after dinner when the front door swung open. James was back earlier than usual.
Mom, are you home? his voice trembled with excitement.
Just in the kitchen!
He stepped into the doorway, hair dishevelled, eyes alight. Eleanor sensed immediately that something big had happened.
Mum, I need to tell you something.
Go on, Im listening.
James paced the hallway, searching for words.
We signed the papers yesterday; she moves in tomorrow, he blurted, stopping in the centre of the room.
Eleanor sank onto a chair, the world tilting around her.
What? she could only manage.
I got married. Yesterday we signed the register. Emily will move in tomorrow.
James, youre joking?
No, Mum, its serious.
But why didnt you tell me?
It it just happened.
Spontaneously? You got married on a whim? Eleanors voice quivered.
Dont start, Mum. Im an adult, I make my own decisions.
Ive never even seen Emily!
Youll meet her tomorrow. Shes a good person, youll like her.
Eleanor sat, unable to move. The shock was so fierce her throat caught.
Please say something, Mum, James crouched beside her.
What should I say? Congratulations? After you signed the register without a word?
Its not a warning, its a fact!
Sorry, it just happened.
She rose, retreated to her bedroom, closed the door, and sank onto the bed, her face buried in her hands. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she stifled the sobs.
Her son had married without her blessing, and now a stranger would share her home. How was she to feeljoy, betrayal, or something else?
She lay awake the whole night, turning over the news, wondering about Emily, why James had rushed into marriage, whether she was pregnant.
Morning found her eyes swollen, her head heavy. James had already left for work, leaving a note on the kitchen counter: Mum, well be back this evening. Please have something for dinner. Love you.
Love you, was easy to say. How could she feel loved?
On autopilot she began cooking. She simmered a pot of stew, fried meatballs, tossed a salad. Her hands moved mechanically while her mind whirred.
By evening shed mopped the floors, dusted the shelves, set the table. The house was spotless, but a sour taste lingered in her mouth.
The front door opened at eight oclock. Eleanor stood at the sink, wiping her hands on a towel, heart hammering as if it might leap out.
Were home! James called, his voice bright.
She stepped into the hallway. James stood with a womantall, slender, long blond hair, bright makeup, looking no older than twentyfive.
Mum, this is Emily.
Emily, this is my mother, Eleanor Whitaker.
Hello, Emily said, extending a hand with a smile.
Hello, Eleanor shook the cold palm.
Emily wore an expensive leather jacket, sleek jeans, a golden chain glinting at her throatlike shed stepped off a magazine cover.
James told me youd be making dinner. How lovely! Emily chirped, shedding her jacket.
Jamess nickname Jimmy made Eleanor wince. No one ever called her son that.
Come into the kitchen, Eleanor said flatly.
During dinner Emily talked nonstop, bragging about the wedding, how wonderful James was, how happy she felt. James gazed at her with adoring eyes, catching every word.
Eleanor ate the stew in silence, nodding occasionally. She disliked everythingthe brash young woman, the way James looked at her, the suddenness of it all.
May I call you Mum? Emily asked suddenly, fluttering her lashes.
Do as you wish, Eleanor replied coolly.
Oh, wonderful! I have no mother now; she passed long ago. And now I have a marvelous motherinlaw!
After dinner James showed Emily around the flat. Eleanor stayed to clear the table, hearing their laughter echo down the hallway.
This will be our bedroom, James announced.
So where will Mum sleep? Emily asked.
Her own room, of course.
Emily laughed. Right, of course.
Eleanor pressed her lips together. She imagined Emily thinking shed give up her own room.
That night, when the young couple settled in Jamess room, Eleanor lay awake in hers, listening to muffled voices and laughter through the walls. Loneliness settled heavy on her chest.
Morning found her in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Emily appeared an hour later, yawning and stretching.
Good morning, Mum! she sang.
Good morning, Eleanor muttered.
How thoughtful you are, already making breakfast!
I always make breakfast.
Im not much of a breakfast personjust a coffee.
James loves a hearty breakfast.
Itll grow on you, Emily said, pouring herself a cup.
Eleanor turned the skillets, flipping the cottagecheese fritters. Itll grow on you, she thought. Emily was already plotting to change Jamess habits.
James arrived, sat down, and Eleanor placed the fritters on his plate, pouring tea.
Thanks, Mum, he smiled.
James, are you really going to eat that? So many calories! Emily winced.
I always have this for breakfast.
Honestly, Id watch my figure if I were you.
James glanced between his wife and his mother. Eleanor turned away, trying to hide the sting.
After breakfast Emily began unpacking. Three massive suitcases, countless boxes. She spread her belongings across Jamess room, stuffing the wardrobe.
James, where will I keep my makeup? Theres no space!
Well find somewhere.
Maybe we can ask Mum to clear a shelf in the bathroom?
Eleanor, passing by, stopped.
There are no free shelves in the bathroom.
How could there be? Theres an entire cabinet! Emily protested.
Thats my stuff.
Cant you just move it a little?
I cant.
Emily pursed her lips, looked annoyed at James.
Mum, could you please free up a shelf? James asked.
Eleanor silently slipped into the bathroom, rearranged her jars, cleared one shelf, and returned to the hallway, tears threatening again. She felt like an intruder in her own house.
A week passed. Emily settled in, rearranging furniture, hanging pictures.
Eleanor, shall we move the sofa to make the lounge cozier? she suggested.
Its been there for twenty years.
Change is good!
I dont need change.
Oh, come on! James, tell Mum this is better!
James tried to please both, eventually the sofa was moved. Eleanor said nothing, retreating to her room.
Emily disliked cooking; she ate premade meals and left dishes piled up. Eleanor silently cleaned up after her.
Mum, youre such a good housewife! Emily exclaimed. I cant cook at all.
Can learn.
Why? Youre already brilliant.
Eleanor realised Emily was simply shifting the burden onto her.
One evening she decided to go to the shop. Emily lounged on the sofa, watching TV.
Emily, could you get some bread? Im tired.
Oh, Im exhausted! Can we ask James?
Hes at work.
Then youll have to go yourself; you always do.
Eleanor grabbed her bag, left, tears welling again. The neighbour, Dorothy Hughes, offered tea later, complaining, Its the classic clashyoung wife versus motherinlaw!
I’m not getting in their way! Eleanor retorted.
Dorothy replied, Youre just an obstacle to her existence. This flat is yours, you should claim it.
Eleanor returned late, the party still raging. She locked herself in her bedroom.
Morning revealed the flat in disarraydirty dishes, ashtrays, spilled wine. Emily and James slept through it. Eleanor spent three hours restoring order.
Emily emerged for lunch, surprised.
Good morning! Oh, youve already cleaned everything? Thanks!
Youre welcome, Eleanor said flatly.
Wheres James?
Hes sleeping.
That was a great night yesterday! Shame you werent there!
Im not ashamed.
Emily poured coffee, then asked, Eleanor, have you ever thought of moving somewhere else? Maybe to a friends or a relatives?
Eleanor froze.
What?
Youre alone, were a young family. We need space, you know?
This is my flat.
Formally, yes. But James is your son, so its his too!
The lease is in my name.
Still, family matters more than paperwork!
Eleanor stared at the young woman.
Im not going anywhere. This is my home.
Dont you plan to stay with us forever?
While I live, I will.
Emily pouted, Thats not very modern. Young people need freedom!
Freedom in a threebedroom flat is limited.
Limited! Youre always here, cooking, in the bathroom! I cant relax!
Eleanor left the kitchen, hugging her head.
That evening she confronted James. He entered, weary, and sat down.
Son, I need to speak seriously.
Im listening, Mum.
Your wife said I should move out, that you need freedom.
Jamess face flushed.
She didnt mean it like that
What did she mean?
Just wed like some time alone.
You have your own room.
Its not enough. We want the whole flat.
This is my flat! Ive lived here my whole life!
I know, Mum, but maybe we should consider a flat of our own? Perhaps stay with Aunt Gill or someone?
Eleanor could not believe her earsher own son asking her to leave.
Are you serious?
Yes, Mum. Emily needs to feel like she owns the place. When Im here, she cant.
You chose her over me.
James trembled.
Im tired, Mum. Im trying to please everyone, but I end up hurting you.
He stood, pacing.
Fine, youll move out with Emily. Ill stay here.
Youre being ridiculous. Why move when the house is yours?
Because its mine, not yours.
Youre my son!
You were about to kick me out.
James covered his face with his hands.
Mum, what do we do?
Ill sell the flat.
James choked on his words, Emily dropped her fork.
What? they both asked.
Im selling. Ill buy a onebedroom flat for myself.
Youre insane! James went pale.
No, Im sane. You wanted freedom, you get it. All of it.
But
This is my property. I can do what I wish.
Emily leapt up.
You cant! Were a family!
A family that wants me out?
I didnt want to force you out! Just wanted you to move occasionally!
Ill go, forever.
James clutched his head.
Mum, lets talk calmly.
Theres nothing to discuss. Its decided. The agent will start viewings tomorrow.
How will we survive?
Rent somewhere. You earn well, youll manage.
This is unfair!
Fairness is me staying in my own home, Eleanor said, standing. Im doing whats right for me.
She retreated to her bedroom, shut the door, hearing their voices rise in the kitchen.
The next morning the flat was a messdirty plates, cigarette butts, spilled wine. Emily and James slept through it. Eleanor spent three hours restoring order.
Emily woke at lunch, yawning.
Good morning! Youve already cleaned everything? Thank you!
Youre welcome, Eleanor replied flatly.
Wheres James?
Hes sleeping.
We had such a great night yesterday! Too bad you werent there!
Im not sorry.
Emily poured coffee, then asked, Eleanor, have you ever thought of moving in with a friend or relative?
Eleanor froze.
What?
Youre alone, were a young family. We need space, you know?
This is my flat.
Formally, yes. But James is your son, so its his too!
The lease is in my name.
Still, family matters more than paperwork!
Eleanor stared at the young woman.
Im not going anywhere. This is my home.
Dont you plan to stay with us forever?
While I live, I will.
Emily pouted, Thats not very modern. Young people need freedom!
Freedom in a threebedroom flat is limited.
Limited! Youre always here, cooking, in the bathroom! I cant relax!
Eleanor left the kitchen, hugging her head.
Later that night James knocked on her door.
Mum, please open.
What do you want?
Lets talk.
She opened. James stood, guilt etched on his face.
Mum, Im sorry. I was wrong.
Its too late.
Not yet! Youre my mother, you cant just be?
I can. Im tired of being invisible.
Youre not invisible!
Your wife said I was, and you helped her.
I never helped her! I just wanted everyone happy!
On my terms, you mean.
James sank to the floor.
What now?
Rent a flat. Or find somewhere.
But theres no money.
Save up.
What about now?
Until then, you rent.
She closed the door. James lingered, then left.
That morning Eleanor called the agency, confirming viewings would start next week.
Emily emerged, eyes red, voice shaking.
Eleanor, are you really selling the flat?
Yes.
Where will we go?
Thats your problem.
Youre my mother! How can you do this to your son?
How could you ask your husbands mother to leave?
I didnt mean to hurt you! I just wanted to feel at home!
Its your fault.
Eleanor left, leaving Emily sobbing over coffee.
That evening James returned, sat opposite her, silence heavy.
Mum, I understand now. Youre right. We were wrong.
Im glad you see it.
Is there any other way?
There is.
What?
You and Emily rent a flat. I stay here.
Mum, thats absurd! Why move when we have a home?
My home is mineShe finally whispered, Lets all move forward together, each finding our own space, and cherish the love that still ties us..
