The Mother I Owe Nothing To
Emma and James were preparing for their wedding. The day before the celebration, the brides mother, Anne Wilson, came to meet Jamess mother, Margaret Thompson, at her home. They discussed wedding details over tea. The next morning, as Anne was leaving, Emma walked her out.
“So, what do you think of James?” Emma asked.
“Hes a good lad,” Anne smiled, then sighed deeply.
“Mum, whats wrong?” Emma frowned.
“Love, be careful with his mother. Theres much you dont know yet.”
Those words soon made sense.
When Emma learned her mother-in-law planned to move in, she confronted James.
“Youll have to chooseme or your mum.”
“Im not choosing,” James replied coolly. “We stay as we are. Shell sort herself out.”
“So you wont let her live with us?”
“Ive already told her.”
“How did she take it?”
“Badly. Called me ungrateful. Said Id regret it.”
“No surprise there”
Margaret had retired early after years as a flight attendant.
“Thats that. Ive worked enough,” she declared, drawing a generous pensionfar more than most.
But she quickly realised it wasnt enough for her lifestyle. The solution? Shift the burden to her son.
“I raised you, educated you. Now its your turn to repay me,” she told James at just twenty-three. “Starting next month, youll cover rent and groceries.”
“Fine,” he said. “But if Im paying, you stay out of my life.”
She agreedand, to her credit, kept her word. His life didnt interest her much anyway. James had been raised mostly by grandparents while she chased her own happiness, unsuccessfully.
Years passed. He moved up in the world, joining her in an upscale flat. For five years, he paid her way while she splurged her pension on herself.
At fifty, Margaret met Emma.
“Youre so polished!” Emma said awkwardly at their first meeting. “You dont look retired at all.”
Learning the newlyweds would live with her, Margaret brightened. “Lovely!” she said, thinking, *Now I wont have to cook.*
Emma took her at her word, but James knew better.
“Mum didnt dare kick us out. Ive paid for everything these five years.”
Annes visit soon shattered Emmas fragile illusions:
“Be careful, love. That woman lives only for herself. Shell drop you the moment youre inconvenient. Hold onto your manI like him. But his mothers bad news.”
Six months later, Margaret fell in love. A man named Andrew started visiting. Then
“Youve got two weeks to move out. Im selling the flat. Moving to York.”
“Youre joking,” James said, stunned.
“Its mine. My parents left it to me.”
“And youre throwing us out?”
“Yes. Its legal.”
James grabbed his coat and left. That evening, he and Emma packed. They moved in with a coworker who needed tenants. A month later, Margaret sold up and left with Andrew.
Days after, James asked to borrow money.
“No. Ive other expenses,” she said coldly.
“Right. Good luck, then.”
“You too,” she smiled, not even hugging him goodbye.
A year passed. Margaret calledAndrew had taken her money and vanished. She was homeless. Returning, she announced,
“Ill live with you.”
“No. Use whats left. Get a mortgage.”
“A mortgage? At my age? On a pension?”
“Find work. Sort yourself out, like everyone else.”
“You wont help?”
“I owe you nothing, Mum.”
She exploded.
“Ungrateful! I raised you!”
“Just following your example,” James said calmly.
Margaret couch-surfed until her money ran out. Rejection followed rejection. She returned to James.
“Mum, youre not ill or elderly. Work. Rent a room. Try.”
“Dont you feel sorry for me?”
“No. You remind me of that grasshopper sang all summer.”
Later, Margaret landed on her feetnot with a job, but a new marriage. To the first willing man. At least she had a home.
But thats another story entirely.
