This is our shared flat, Im the landlord too, said my daughterinlaw, trying to sound like she owned the place.
Mum, why do you keep popping into my room without knocking? Andrew burst out of his bedroom, looking annoyed.
Its my flat, Mum! I replied, setting a basket of fresh laundry on the floor. I just brought the washing in, thats all.
You could have taken it from the bathroom yourself.
I could have, but I didnt. Its been sitting there for two days.
Andrew huffed and slipped back into his room, the door slamming behind him. I sighed and headed to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Lately hed become jumpy and shorttempered, snapping at the slightest thing none of that used to happen.
Im 57, spent my whole life raising Andrew. My husband left when he was five, and I never remarried. I worked two jobs so he never wanted for anything. He went to a good school, then university, and now has a decent senior role at a construction firm.
The threebedroom flat is in my name I inherited it from my parents before my divorce, so its been ours for years. We each have our own bedroom, the third is the living room.
I set out the mugs and grabbed some biscuits. Andrew reentered, a bit calmer.
Sorry, Mum. I lost my cool.
No worries. Sit down, lets have some tea.
He plonked into the chair opposite me, cup in hand.
Mum, I need to talk to you. His tone told me this was serious.
Im listening.
I want Emily to move in with us.
I froze, the tea mug trembling in my grip.
Emily? Your girlfriend?
Yeah. Weve been together six months, you know.
I know, but for her to move in Andrew, are you thinking about getting married?
Not yet, he said, looking away. Just want to live together, see if were right for each other.
And where would she stay? In your room?
Exactly.
Andrew, thats going to be cramped. Im living here, you two are still young
Mum, Im a grownup, thirty now. Time to sort out my personal life.
Im not against your love life, I said, placing my cup down. But I think you both need your own place. Maybe rent a flat together?
Why rent when we already have a threebedroom flat? Theres plenty of room for everyone.
Think about it, love. Im used to things running a certain way. A stranger moving in.
She isnt a stranger! Shes my girlfriend!
To me shes a stranger, I said firmly. Ive only met her a few times, we dont really know each other.
Youll get to know her when she moves in.
No, Im sorry, Im against it.
Andrew sprang up.
You know what, Mum? Im fed up asking for your permission for everything! Im an adult!
In my flat youll keep asking.
In your flat, he smirked. You keep reminding me Im just a tenant, not your son.
A knot tightened in my throat.
Andrew, I didnt mean that
Whatever, well talk later. He stalked back to his room, leaving me staring out the kitchen window, feeling heavy. I didnt want a fight with my son, but I also didnt want a stranger in my home.
That evening I rang my sister Lucy.
Lucy, Ive got a problem. Andrew wants his girlfriend to move in.
To the flat?
Yes. Im against it, and hes upset.
Lucy was quiet for a moment.
Did you think he was already an adult? He needs his own life.
I get that, but they should rent somewhere else!
Where will they get the money? Rent is pricey now. Youve got a big flat, plenty of space.
Are you taking his side?
Im not on anyones side. I just think itll happen sooner or later. He cant stay alone forever.
I hung up feeling betrayed even my sister wasnt backing me.
A few days passed and Andrew and I barely spoke. Hed come home late from work, eat in silence, and retreat to his room. The silence gnawed at me, but pride kept me from being the first to reach out.
One Friday evening Andrew came home with a surprise Emily was with him.
Mum, hi. Emilys staying over, he said, heading to his room.
I froze in the hallway. Emily gave a shy smile.
Hello, Mrs Johnson.
Hello.
She slipped past Andrew and the door closed. I stood there, stunned. Hed brought her in without warning.
She retreated to her room and collapsed on the bed. I felt a sting of resentment how could he do that?
The next morning I got up early, as usual, and went to the kitchen to make breakfast. Half an hour later Andrew and Emily appeared.
Good morning, Emily said.
Morning, I replied, a little dry.
We all sat down. I poured tea and served toast, the three of us eating in silence.
Mrs Johnson, your flat is really cosy, Emily remarked.
Thanks.
Andrew told me youve lived here a long time.
Since I was born. This was my parents flat.
A awkward pause settled. Andrew was glued to his phone, not joining the chat.
I’m off to work, I said, even though my shift didnt start for another two hours. I left the kitchen, changed and walked out, having nowhere else to go but the streets, just killing time.
I came back late that night. The flat was quiet, Andrew was in the lounge watching TV.
Wheres Emily? I asked.
Shes gone home.
Right.
I warmed up a frozen dinner in the kitchen. Andrew stood in the doorway.
Mum, we need to talk. Properly.
Im listening.
I get that youre uncomfortable, but Emily really matters to me. I want us to live together.
Im not against her, just scared.
Scared of what?
That everything will change. That Ill become a burden in my own home.
You wont. 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 young people want space, and heres mum hanging over your shoulder.
Andrew sat beside me.
How about this: Emily moves in, but well try not to intrude on you. You keep your room, we keep ours. The kitchen and bathroom stay shared.
I looked at my son, pleading in his eyes. He truly loved her.
Alright, I whispered. Let her move in. Well try.
He gave me a hug.
Thanks, Mum. You wont regret it.
A week later Emily arrived with two suitcases and a box of cosmetics. I welcomed them, helped carry things in.
Thanks, Mrs Johnson, Emily said, smiling. Ill try not to be a hassle.
No problem, make yourselves at home.
The first few days were peaceful. Emily was polite, kept to herself, cooked separately, cleaned up after herself.
Then the little things started. The bathroom was suddenly packed with her bottles and jars, taking over the shelf Id always used.
Andrew, can we ask Emily to move some of her stuff? Theres no room to turn around in the bathroom.
She needs somewhere to store it.
How about her room?
Theres no space there.
Is there any space in the bathroom?
Andrew scrunched his face.
Fine, Ill ask her.
But the cosmetics didnt disappear new tubes kept appearing.
Later I noticed the kitchen had been rearranged. Cups were in different spots, pots stacked oddly.
Emily, did you move this? I asked calmly.
Yes, I tidied up. Its more convenient, isnt it?
It was convenient my way.
Its not practical to have heavy pots up high and light ones down low. I did it right.
I said nothing, just put everything back the way I liked. In the evening Emily shifted things again. A silent battle over where the dishes belonged began.
Andrew, could you talk to her? I asked.
Mum, does it really matter where things are?
It matters to me! Im used to this layout.
Emily also wants it comfortable.
This is my kitchen!
Its now shared, he said, walking off.
Thats when the real trouble started. Emilys things started spilling into the living room, her magazines on the sofa, her shoes by the front door, her bag on the balcony. I felt myself being edged out of my own flat, but I stayed silent to keep peace with my son.
One evening I got home from work to find two unfamiliar women sitting at the kitchen table, laughing loudly over coffee.
Who are they? I asked Emily.
My friends. Were rehearsing a dance, need space.
You could have given a headsup.
Why? This is our shared flat, Im also the lady of the house.
Her words hit me like a slap. I stood there, stunned, unable to find the right words.
One of them smiled and said, Please, come in.
Thanks, Ill go to my room, I muttered, retreating. My hands shook with anger.
Later that night Andrew came down the hallway.
I need to talk, urgently.
Whats wrong?
Come to the kitchen.
We sat at the table, the door to Emilys room shut.
Andrew, your girlfriend brought friends in without telling anyone.
So what?
How could you just assume this is my flat?
Mum, youre starting again.
Im not starting! She said shes the lady of the house!
Andrew grimaced.
She didnt mean to hurt you, just chose the wrong words.
Wrong words? She actually said shes the lady of my home!
Mum, she lives here now. She feels at home.
But this isnt her home!
Whose? Only yours?
Im your son, Im here too. And she
Shes my girlfriend. I want her comfortable.
And I dont matter?
Andrew stood up.
Mum, enough. Youre just jealous of a woman being near me.
What? Im not jealous! I just want respect in my own home!
Then respect others!
He walked away, leaving me choking back tears. Everything had gone so wrong, nothing like Id imagined.
The next day I called Lucy again.
I told you itd be tough.
You said thered be enough space!
I meant physically. Psychologically, its always hard when a stranger moves in.
What should I do?
Talk to her. Explain whats bothering you.
She wont listen!
Then go through Andrew. Hell talk to her.
But Andrew was clearly siding with Emily, and I felt betrayed.
A week later Emily was acting more boldly short shorts, loud music, hogging the bathroom for ages. I tolerated it, but the tension kept building.
The climax hit on Saturday. I was rolling out pastry dough for a cake when Emily walked in.
Mrs Johnson, can I use the table? I need to put my laptop on it.
Im busy, as you can see.
So what? I need it urgently.
Use your room.
But Andrews sleeping there. I dont want to wake him.
Im baking a cake. I need the table.
Its my table, I decide what happens on it!
Emily crossed her arms.
Weve already said this is a shared flat, so the table is shared too.
No! This is my kitchen, my table, and Im in charge!
Whatever you say, Emily smirked. Just remember I live here with Andrew. One day this flat will be ours.
What?! I went pale.
Isnt it logical? You wont be here forever. Itll end up being mine when we get married.
Get out! I shouted. Leave this house right now!
Its me youre yelling at? Emily didnt flinch.
Pack your things and go!
Its Andrew who let me stay, not you. Im not going anywhere.
Andrew rushed in.
Whats happening?
Your mother is trying to kick me out, Emily said, looking hurt.
Im kicking her out! I gasped. She said the flat will be hers soon!
Andrew looked at Emily.
You said that?
I was just stating a fact, she shrugged. One day the flat will be yours by inheritance, obviously.
Emily, thats inappropriate.
Why? Were adults.
Because this is my mothers house. As long as shes alive and well, no one talks about inheritance!
Emily pursed her lips.
Fine, sorry, Mrs Johnson. Didnt mean to offend.
Its already offended, I said, wiping tears. Andrew, either she goes, or I do.
Mum, no ultimatums.
Im serious. I cant keep living with her. She doesnt respect me and now talks about the flat as if its hers.
Andrew looked torn.
Mom
Decide, Andrew. Either her, or me.
I slammed the bedroom door, sat on the bed, and covered my face. Tears ran down my cheeks. Id spent my whole life for Andrew, raised him alone, worked my fingers to the bone, gave him education, always been there. And now he was choosing between me and a girl hed only known half a year.
From the hallway I heard muffled voices. Andrew and Emily were talking. Then it went quiet.
A knock came at my door.
Mum, its me. Can I come in?
Come in.
Andrew stepped in, carrying a bag.
Emilys moving out today.
I sat up.
Really?
Yes. I talked to her, explained she was acting wrong.
Did she agree?
It took a while, but shes leaving. Im sorry, Mum.
I didnt want a fight, I said, wiping my eyes. I really didnt.
I know. Im to blame. I acted too fast.
Do you love her?
He hesitated.
I thought I did, but now I see shes selfish, blunt.
Maybe shes just young.
Youre right, youth isnt an excuse for rudeness.
He got up.
Ill help her with her things, then well talk.
I stayed in the room, listening to the rustle of bags and the closing of the front door. Silence settled.
Andrew returned, knocked again.
Shes gone.
We went back to the kitchen. The cake lay halfbaked, the dough dried out.
Ruined, I sighed.
Itll be fine next time.
We sat down, he took my hand.
Sorry for being selfish. I was an egoist.
No, I was too. I reacted too sharply. I shouldve given her a chance.
You gave her a chance, she just turned out not to be who I thought.
What now?
Ill think about getting my own place, I said cautiously. Youre an adult, you need your own space.
Probably right. Ill look into renting.
Ill help with money. Ive saved a bit.
Thanks, Mum.
We drank tea as dusk fell, neighbour lights flickering on. I felt a weight lift the nightmare was over. Shed left, the flat was mine again, and Andrew was there, too.
But I knew this was only temporary. Sooner or later Andrew would find another partner, want to marry, maybe have kids. The question of space would rise again.
Mum, what are you thinking about?
Just life.
You dont need to worry. Ill find a flat, move out, visit you when I can.
Visit, huh? Ill be happy to bake you cakes.
Exactly. No one will get in the way.
The next day Andrew left for work. I was alone in the quiet flat, tidying up after Emily clearing her cosmetics from the bathroom, putting the kitchen back as it was, taking the boxes off the balcony. The flat felt like mine again, but it left a bittersweet ache.
That evening Lucy called.
Hows it going?
Emilys gone.
Completely?
Yes. We fought, Andrew asked her to leave.
How do you feel?
Weird. I got what I wanted, but I feel empty.
Thats because hell eventually leave too.
I get it.
MaybeI sip my tea, watch the sunset through the window, and finally accept that love, like the seasons, will always bring change, and thats okay.
