This is our shared flat, Im the owner too, says the girl, her sons voice trailing behind her.
Mom, why are you barging into my room without knocking again? Andrew bursts out of the bedroom, his face scowling.
What knock? This is my flat! Helen Carter drops a laundry basket on the floor. I just brought the clean washing in, thats why Im here.
You could have taken it yourself from the bathroom!
I could have, but I didnt. Its been sitting there for two days.
Andrew snorts and retreats back to his room, slamming the door behind him.
Helen sighs and heads to the kitchen to fill the kettle. Lately Andrew has become jittery and irritable, snapping at the slightest provocationa change from his usual calm.
She is fiftyseven, having devoted her whole life to her son. Her husband left when Andrew was five; she never remarried, raising him alone while working two jobs so he never lacked anything. He attended a good school, then university, and now holds a respectable position at a construction firm.
The threebedroom flat is legally in Helens name; she inherited it from her parents before the divorce. She, Andrew, and a third roomwhichservesasthelivingareashare the flat, each keeping their own bedroom.
Helen sets out cups and pulls out biscuits. Andrew reappears, now calmer.
Sorry, Mum. I lost my temper.
Its alright. Have a seat, lets have some tea.
He sits opposite her, picks up a cup.
Mum, I need to talk to you.
From his tone she knows the conversation is serious.
Im listening.
I want Emily to move in with me. With us.
Helen freezes, cup halfraised.
Emily? Your girlfriend?
Yes. Weve been together for six months, you know.
I know. But having her move in Andrew, are you planning to get married?
Not yet, he averts his gaze. We just want to live together and see if were a good match.
And where will she live? In your room?
Exactly.
Andrew, thats cramped. I live here, you two are young
Mum, Im an adult, thirty years old. Its time I sort out my personal life.
Im not against your personal life, Helen puts her cup down. But I think you need a separate place. Rent a flat, for example.
Why rent when we have a threebedroom flat? Theres plenty of space for everyone.
Andrew, think about it. Im used to a certain order in my home. A strangers girlfriend will change that.
Shes not a stranger! Shes my girlfriend!
For me shes a stranger, Helen says firmly. Ive only seen her three times; we barely know each other.
Theyll get to know each other when she moves in.
No, Helen shakes her head. Im sorry, but Im against it.
Andrew stands abruptly.
You know what, Mum? Im tired of asking permission for every little thing. Im an adult!
In my flat youll keep asking.
In your flat, he smirks. You keep reminding me Im just a tenant, not your son.
Helen feels a lump rise in her throat.
Andrew, I didnt mean
Enough. Well talk later.
He strides to his room, leaving Helen alone at the kitchen table, staring out the window. The weight of the argument sits heavy on her chest; she doesnt want to fight her son, but she also cant welcome an unknown woman into her home.
That evening she calls her sister Lucy.
Lucy, I have a problem. Andrew wants his girlfriend to move in with us.
What, into the flat?
Yes. Im against it and hes upset.
Lucy pauses.
Did you think hes an adult now? He needs a personal life.
I get that, but they should rent somewhere!
Where will the money come from? Rent is pricey now. Youve got a big flat, plenty of room.
Are you taking his side?
Im not taking anyones side. I just think itll happen sooner or later. He wont live alone forever.
Helen hangs up feeling betrayed; even her sister offers no support.
A few days pass with barely a word exchanged between mother and son. Andrew comes home late from work, eats in silence, and retreats to his room. Helen suffers the quiet, but pride keeps her from being the first to bridge the gap.
One Friday evening Andrew arrives home with a woman.
Mum, hi. Emily will stay the night, he says, heading to his bedroom.
Helen freezes in the hallway. Emily smiles shyly.
Good afternoon, Mrs Carter.
Good afternoon.
Emily follows Andrew inside, the door closing behind them. Helen stands in the hallway, stunned. Hes brought her in without warning. She retreats to her room and lies on the bed, a pang of resentment gnawing at her. How could he be so bold?
The next morning Helen rises early as usual, heads to the kitchen to make breakfast. Half an hour later Andrew and Emily appear.
Good morning, Emily says.
Good morning, Helen replies curtly.
They sit at the table; Helen serves tea and toast, they eat in silence.
Mrs Carter, your flat is very cosy, Emily remarks.
Thank you.
Andrew told me youve lived here a long time.
Its been my familys flat since I was born.
Emily nods. I can see youve gotten used to it.
An awkward pause follows. Andrew scrolls on his phone, not joining the conversation.
I have to go to work, Helen says, even though her shift doesnt start for another two hours. She leaves for her bedroom, changes, and wanders the streets to kill time.
She returns late evening to find the flat quiet; Andrew is in the lounge watching TV.
Wheres Emily? Helen asks.
She went home.
Right.
Helen reheats her dinner. Andrew steps into the kitchen.
Mum, we need to talk. Properly.
Im listening.
I know its uncomfortable for you, but Emily is really important to me. I want us to live together.
Im not against her, Helen sighs. Im just scared.
Scared of what?
That everything will change, that Ill become redundant in my own home.
You wont be redundant. This is your flat.
Its my flat now, but soon itll be hers too, and Ill be in the way.
Dont imagine things.
Im not imagining. I know how it feels when young people want space and a mother is always there.
Andrew sits beside her.
Lets compromise. Emily moves in, but well make sure we dont intrude on your space. You keep your room, we keep ours.
The kitchen and bathroom stay shared.
Exactly. Well schedule usage.
Helen looks at her sons pleading eyes; he truly loves Emily.
Alright, she says quietly. Let her move in. Well try.
Andrew embraces her.
Thanks, Mum. You wont regret this.
A week later Emily arrives with two suitcases and a box of cosmetics. Helen greets them warmly, helps carry the bags in.
Thank you, Mrs Carter, Emily smiles. Ill try not to be a bother.
Its fine, make yourselves at home.
The first days pass peacefully. Emily is polite, keeps to herself, cooks separately, and cleans up after herself.
Then the little irritations start. Helen notices the bathroom now crowded with a plethora of new bottles and jars.
Andrew, could we ask Emily to move some of her cosmetics? Theres no room to turn around.
Mom, she needs somewhere to store them.
Maybe she could keep them in your room.
Theres no space there.
Is there space in the bathroom?
Andrew grimaces. Ill ask her.
But the cosmetics multiply, not disappear.
Later Helen discovers the kitchen rearranged: cups not where they belong, pots stacked oddly.
Emily, did you move this? she asks calmly.
Yes, I tidied up. Its more convenient, isnt it?
It was more convenient my way.
Its impractical now! Heavy pots on the top shelf, light ones below. I think I did it right.
Helen says nothing, resets everything back to her usual order. Emily rearranges it again that evening. A silent war over dish placement begins.
Andrew, could you talk to her? Helen pleads.
Mom, does it really matter where things sit?
It matters to me! Im used to this.
Emily also wants comfort.
This is my kitchen!
Its now shared, Andrew replies, heading out.
Shared. The conflict has begun.
Emily slowly claims more space: her magazines on the sofa, shoes by the hall, bags on the balcony. Helen feels herself being edged out of her own flat, yet she remains silent to avoid straining her relationship with Andrew.
One evening she returns from work to find two unfamiliar women sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and laughing loudly.
Who are they? Helen asks Emily.
My friends. Were rehearsing a dance, we need the space.
You could have told me.
Why? This is our flat too, Im also a homeowner here.
The comment lands like a slap. Helen stands in the doorway, unable to speak.
Mrs Carter, please come in, one of the friends smiles.
Thanks, Ill go to my room, Helen mutters, retreating. Her hands tremble with indignation. The girl whos only been here a week now claims to be the lady of the house!
Later that night Andrew enters, looking serious.
We need to talk, urgently.
Whats wrong?
Lets go to the kitchen.
They sit; Emily is in her room, the door shut.
Andrew, your girlfriend brought friends over without warning.
So what?
This is my flat!
Mom, youre starting again.
Im not starting! She said this is a shared flat and that shes the owner here!
Andrew frowns.
She didnt mean to hurt you. She just chose the wrong words.
Wrong words? Shes acting like she owns my house!
Mom, she lives here. Of course she feels at home.
But its not her home!
Whose then? Only yours? I dont live here, do I?
You live here, youre my son. And she
Shes my girlfriend. I want her comfortable.
So I dont matter?
Andrew stands.
Enough, Mum. Youre just scared of a woman being near me. Youre jealous.
What? Im not jealous! I just want respect in my own house!
Then respect others!
He walks away, leaving Helen shaking with tears.
The next day she calls Lucy again.
Lucy, I told you it would be hard.
You said thered be enough space for everyone!
I meant physically. Psychologically its always tough when a stranger moves in.
What should I do?
Talk to the girl. Explain what bothers you.
She wont listen!
Then go through Andrew. Hell talk to her.
But Andrew clearly sides with Emily. Helen feels betrayed.
Another week passes; Emily becomes more relaxed, wearing short shorts and a tank top, blasting loud music, hogging the bathroom for long periods. Helen tolerates it, but tension builds.
The climax hits Saturday. Helen rolls out dough for a cake, spreading it on the kitchen table. Emily walks in.
Mrs Carter, can you clear the table? I need to put my laptop on it.
Im busy, as you can see.
So what? I need to work now.
Use your room.
Andrews sleeping there. I dont want to wake him.
Im baking a cake. I need the table.
I need the table for work. The cake can wait.
Helen feels something snap inside her.
No, it wont wait. This is my kitchen, my table, and I decide what happens here!
Emily folds her arms.
We already agreed this is a shared flat, so the table is shared too.
Its not shared! Its my flat and Im the lady of the house! No one else!
Very well, Emily smirks. Just remember I live here with Andrew. One day this flat will be ours too, when we get married.
What?! Helens face turns pale.
Im just stating the obvious. The flat will eventually belong to me.
Get out! Helen yells. Leave my house right now!
You?! Emily retorts, unfazed. I wont go anywhere. Andrew let me stay, not you.
Andrew rushes in.
Whats happening?
Your mother is trying to kick me out, Emily says, pouting.
Im kicking her out! Helen gasps. She said the flat will soon be hers!
Andrew looks at Emily.
You said that?
I was just stating a fact, Emily shrugs. Its obvious the flat will be yours one day, so its logical.
Emily, thats inappropriate.
Why? Were adults.
Because this is my mothers home! As long as shes alive and well, no one talks about inheritance!
Emily rolls her eyes.
Sorry, Mrs Carter. I didnt mean to offend.
Its already offended, Helen wipes her tears. Andrew, either she leaves, or I do.
Mum, no ultimatums.
Im serious. I cant keep living with her. She doesnt respect me, she thinks shes the owner, and now shes talking about inheritance!
Andrew looks torn.
Mom
Decide, Andrew. Either her, or me.
Helen slams the bedroom door, sits on the bed, clutching her head. Tears run down her cheeks. She has spent her whole life for her son, raising him alone, working hard, giving him education, always supporting him. Now he chooses between her and a girl hes known for half a year.
Muffled voices drift from the hallwayAndrew and Emily discussing something. Then silence.
She lies on the bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what will happen. Will the girl leave, or will she have to move out?
A knock sounds at the door.
Mum, its me. Can I come in?
Come in.
Andrew steps in, sits on the edge of the bed.
Emily is gathering her things. Shell leave today.
Helen sits up.
Really?
Yes. I talked to her, explained that her behaviour was wrong.
And she agreed?
It took a while, but shes agreed. Im sorry, Mum. I didnt expect it to get this messy.
I didnt want a fight, Helen says, wiping her eyes. I really didnt.
I know. Im at fault too. I should have waited longer.
Do you love her?
Andrew pauses.
Im not sure. I thought I did, but now I see shes selfish and tactless.
Maybe shes just young.
Youre right, youth isnt an excuse for rudeness.
He stands.
Ill help her with her bags, then well talk.
Helen watches the rustling of suitcases in the hallway. After half an hour the front door closes.
Silence.
Andrew returns, knocks again.
Shes gone.
They go to the kitchen; the cake sits halfbaked on the table, the dough dried.
Its ruined, Helen sighs.
Itll be fine next time.
They sit, sipping tea. Andrew takes her hand.
Im sorry, Mum. I acted selfishly.
No, Im also to blame. I reacted too sharply. I should have given her a chance.
She turned out not to be who I thought.
What now?
Ill think about getting my own place, Helen suggests gently. Youre an adult, you need your own space.
Maybe youre right. Ill consider renting.
Ill help financially. Ive saved a bit.
Thanks, Mum.
They sit together as night falls, street lights flickering outside. Helen feels a weight lift; the nightmare has ended. The girl is gone, her son is with her, and life returns to normal.
But she knows this is temporary. Sooner or later Andrew will meet another partner, want to marry, have children, and the question of housing will arise again.
Mum, what are you thinking about?
Just life.
Dont worry. Ill look for a flat, move out, and visit you as a guest.
Visit, yes, Helen smiles. Ill keep baking cakes.
Exactly. No one will get in the way.
The next day Andrew goes to work. Helen wanders the quiet flat, putting away theAs twilight deepened over the quiet street, Helen finally felt a gentle peace settle over her heart.
