If you even thinkmy son will throw you out the door! I dont care whose flat this is! shrilled the motherinlaw.
Emily set a plate of breakfast before Tom and stole a glance at the clock. Seventhirty. Tom chewed his scrambled eggs slowly, only occasionally looking up at his wife.
I dont know about you, but Im thrilled about Mums visit, Tom said, sipping his tea. Shes coming from the country. Fresh air does her good.
Emily forced a smile but said nothing. A week, Agnes kept saying, had already stretched to twenty days, and there seemed to be no end in sight.
Tom, didnt you say when Mum plans to go back? Emily asked as gently as she could.
Tom set down his fork and sighed.
Please, dont start. Mums here to rest. Its hard for her to be alone out in the fields.
I understand, but
A clatter erupted from the kitchen. Agnes had woken, taken her morning routinescrubbing dishes and stirring a pot of porridgeas if the day were a looped reel. Emily closed her eyes. Every sunrise, the same.
Good morning, dears! the motherinlaw boomed, appearing in the doorway. What are you eating so quietly? And what about me?
Mum, I brought it myself, Tom explained. Emily has to get ready for work.
Of course, she has a job, Agnes rolled her eyes. And who does the housework? In the country women handle everything feed the livestock, tend the garden, mind the husband.
Emily clenched her fists under the table. She had heard this monologue twenty times already. Every day the motherinlaw found a reason to remind her that city women were lazy and spoiled.
Agnes, Im really in a hurry, Emily glanced at the clock. I have a meeting at nine.
A meeting? Sit in your chair all day and shuffle papers. Thats not work!
Tom buried his face in his plate, trying not to intervene, as usual.
When Emily returned from work she found her cosmetics spread on the coffee table like a boutique display.
Agnes, have you taken my cosmetics? Emily asked, trying to keep her voice level.
Whats it to you? the motherinlaw said, perched before the telly with the volume blaring. Im just watching what you slather on with that city chemistry. In my day we didnt need jars to keep a healthy glow.
Emily quietly gathered her things and slipped to the bathroom. It wasnt the first time Agnes rummaged through her drawers. The week before, Agnes had emptied every cupboard to tidy up, leaving Emily two days without the documents she needed.
After dinner, the sink was piled with dishes (Agnes washed them only once a weekon Sundays). The motherinlaw turned on a tiny radio and sang an old folk tune at full blast, her voice echoing through the whole block.
Agnes, could you turn it down a notch? Emily asked. The neighbours are complaining.
Neighbours? the old lady sneered. In the country we sing until dawn and no one minds!
We live in a flat, Emily reminded. Different rules here.
Rules, rules Agnes muttered, turning the radio off. You city folk are all the same.
When Tom got home, Emily tried to speak to him quietly.
Tom, could you talk to Mum? she whispered, once they were alone in the bedroom. Explain that our flat is tiny, the walls are thin
What am I supposed to say? Tom gestured helplessly. Mums mum. Shes sixtyfive. Im not going to raise her.
Im not talking about raising her, Emily sighed. Just about mutual respect.
Its fine, dont exaggerate, Tom waved it off. Bear with it a bit. Shes not staying forever.
Days slipped by, and Agnes showed no sign of leaving. In fact, she rearranged the flat more and more each day.
One afternoon Emily came home to find the flat chilling. Every window was flung open despite the fifteendegree frost outside.
Agnes, why have you opened the windows? Its freezing! Emily cried, hurriedly shutting them.
Letting the air in! the motherinlaw replied proudly. Your flat is stifling. Country air is cleaner.
But the radiators cant cope with this cold. Were paying for heating
Oh, youre thinking about money again! Agnes snapped. City folk only think about money.
By the third week Emily felt like a guest in her own home. Agnes had remade the bed as it should be, reorganised every dish cupboard logically, even retuned the television channels to proper programmes.
At lunch the motherinlaw criticised Emilys soup.
This isnt broth, its coloured water, she frowned, tasting the soup. Back home our soup stands on its own! And youve undercooked the potatoes and left the meat scarce.
If you want, make it yourself, Emily snapped, finally losing patience.
Ill show you how! Agnes declared, marching to the stove.
The next day she truly did. The kitchen looked like a battlefieldgrease splattered on every surface, a mountain of dirty dishes in the sink, the floor slick with oil.
Now thats a proper meal! she announced, placing a massive pot that resembled a stew on the table.
The food was tasty, but Emily could not think of anything else. She stared at the mess and imagined the hours of cleaning ahead.
Mum, will you wash the dishes? Tom asked gently.
Dishes? Agnes lifted an eyebrow. In the country men dont wash dishes. Thats womens work.
But you cooked, Tom reminded.
I fed the family! The dishes can wait till Sunday. Those are my rules.
Tom gave Emily a guilty look and drifted to watch the football on.
By the end of the month Emilys patience was frayed. She slept little; Agnes snored so loudly the walls seemed to tremble, and in the mornings she complained that the young folk were squeaking the bed all night.
The motherinlaw mixed towels with dishcloths, wiping the kitchen and then the bathroom floor. She used Emilys face cream as a remedy for cracked heelsso the good doesnt go to waste.
When Emily tried to tell Tom that the situation was driving her to a nervous breakdown, he snapped.
Youre never satisfied! he shouted. Mum does what she thinks is best, and you keep moaning. She cooks, she cleans
Seriously? Emily couldnt believe her ears. She doesnt clean. I clean after her every day. And after you, too.
Here we go again, Tom sighed. You cant go without complaint.
After that argument Emily decided to make peace. Sooner or later the motherinlaw would have to return to the country, with her farm, garden, and neighbours.
Weeks passed, and Agnes seemed to settle in the city for good.
The final straw came with the curtains. Emily had spent weeks choosing fabric, ordering them, and half her bonus went on light, airy drapes that brightened the flat.
That evening Agnes was rolling dumplings. Emily was at her desk on a deadline when the front door swung open.
Emily, have you seen if the dumplings are ready? I need to wash my hands, the motherinlaw called.
Emily stepped into the kitchen and saw Agnes wiping her hands on the fresh curtain cloth, leaving greasy smears on the light fabric.
Something snapped inside Emily. She didnt shout, didnt fling her arms. She spoke quietly but firmly:
Agnes, these are new curtains. Use a towel for your hands.
Oh, its just a little stain, Ill wipe it off, Agnes waved away.
Its not about the stain, Emily continued, feeling resolve harden. Its about respect. Youve lived in our flat for a month and a half and never asked before moving anything, never asked if you could touch my things, never asked before rearranging our home.
Agness face flushed.
What does your home mean? she sputtered. This is my sons house! Im not a guest!
This is our shared home, Emily said calmly. And Id like you to respect our space.
Agnes slammed a pot onto the table:
Word of mouth, and my son will throw you out! I dont care whose flat this is!
The kitchen fell into a ringing silence, the words hanging like a heavy cloud. Emily felt a switch click inside her, as if a light had finally been switched on.
She didnt yell back. She didnt burst into tears. She didnt slam doors. She simply fell silent.
Turning, she walked to the bedroom. Her movements were measured, like a woman completing a longplanned task. She opened the wardrobe, retrieved Agness large suitcasethe very one that had arrived for a week a month and a half agounzipped it carefully and laid it on the bed.
Agnes appeared in the doorway, surprise flickering to distrust, then anger.
What are you doing? the motherinlaw shrieked as Emily methodically opened the dresser drawers and pulled out Agness clothes.
Emily said nothing, just kept folding sweaters, blouses, skirts, underwear, placing each piece neatly so it wouldnt wrinkle.
Ill call Tom! Agnes threatened, pulling out a phone from her coat. Hell see!
Emily gave a small nod, as if approving the plan. She then went to the bathroom and collected Agness shampoo, soap, toothbrusheverythinginto the suitcase.
Hello, Tom! Agnes shouted into the receiver. Your wife is stealing my things!
Emily didnt hear Toms reply, but his expression was clear: he wasnt rushing to her aid.
When the suitcase was packed, Emily zipped it and set it by the hallway. She opened a taxiapp, ordered a ride to the village where Agnes livedabout twentyfive miles away, not far at all.
The cab will be here in fifteen minutes, Emily said, finally addressing her motherinlaw directly. Ive paid for the journey to your house.
Agnes stared, mouth agape. No one in the village would ever have dared shout at her like that, let alone throw someone out.
You you have no right! the old woman stammered. Ive been here for a month and a half! Its cold in my own home!
Theres a neighbour, Mrs. Whitaker, Emily replied calmly. You said she looks after the house. Shell probably keep the fire going.
Agnes opened her mouth to argue but found no words. Her phone rang again; she seized the handset greedily.
Son! she wailed. Shes driven me out! Come quickly!
Emily knew Tom would not come. He always avoided conflict, hiding behind the newspaper or the phone. Once again he chose the I see nothing strategy.
Fifteen minutes later the taxi arrived. Emily lifted the heavy suitcase and walked to the front door.
Are you leaving? she asked the motherinlaw, who stood with arms folded.
Agnes looked at Emily with distrust.
Think Ill just walk out? she challenged.
You could stay, and Ill call the council. Explain the situation. This is my flat, I have the tenancy papers. Decide what you want.
Something in Emilys tone made Agnes believe she meant business. She snatched her coat, bag, and with a sour expression stepped onto the stairwell.
Emily placed the suitcase by the car. The driver opened the boot and helped load the bags.
Shes driving me out! Do something! Agnes shouted into the receiver once more, glare fixed on Emily.
Tom remained silent. He never spoke up when a clear decision was needed.
The motherinlaw gave Emily one last contemptuous glance, slipped into the taxi, and it disappeared around the corner.
Emily closed the flat door behind her, leaned against it, and let the quiet wrap around her like a warm blanket on a winter night. For the first time in weeks she could simply stand and listen to the kitchen clock ticking.
She walked to the sink, washed her hands, dried them with a proper towelnot a curtain. She glanced at the clock: nearly eight in the evening. Tom would be back soon.
She didnt cook dinner. Instead she brewed a cup of tea and sat by the window, thoughts drifting slowly, calmly. Strangely, there was no anger, only a light reliefas if a heavy load had finally been lifted.
Her phone buzzeda message from Tom:
Running late. Dont wait.
Emily smiled. Of course Tom didnt want to return immediately after everything that had happened. He feared the confrontation, the unraveling of relationships, the shouting. But the shouting would end. Emily felt calmer than she had in months.
For the first time in two months the flat was hushed. No one blasted the television, no clatter of dishes filled the kitchen, no endless tales of country life echoed through the hallway. Just pure, beautiful silence.
She looked at the new curtains. Greasy marks from Agness hands darkened the light fabric. It didnt matter; tomorrow the dry cleaners would take them, or she would buy fresh onesbrighter, airier.
The phone buzzed again, this time it was Agnes.
Hello? Emily answered calmly.
You you Agnes choked with fury. I knew you were a bad wife! Tom will see everything now!
Agnes, Emily cut in, Im not holding Tom. If he wants to move back to the country, fine. But I will no longer let anyone disrespect my home or me.
Youll regret it! the motherinlaw hissed before hanging up.
Emily finished her tea, slipped into the bathroom, took a shower, put on her favourite nightgownone shed hidden from Agness eyes. Then she settled into bed with a book, finally reading for pleasure rather than to escape a kitchen or an ironing board.
Around midnight a key turned in the lock. Tom stumbled home, clearly halfdrunk. Emily switched off the lights and pretended to be asleep. Any talk could wait until morning.
Morning found the flat still quiet. No clanging pots, no TV blaring, no folk songs from a tiny radio. It was unusualand wonderful.
Tom sat at the kitchen table, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
Mum said you kicked her out, Tom began without a greeting.
Yes, Emily replied, setting the kettle on.
She cried. Said you were cruel.
I called a taxi and packed her things, Emily said evenly. I didnt shout, I didnt push, I didnt insult.
Tom fell silent, collecting his thoughts.
You could have just endured, he finally said. She isnt young any more.
Tom, Emily looked him straight in the eye, your mother threatened to throw me out of my own flat. She disrespected both me and my home. A month and a half I put up with it. Enough.
So what now? Tom asked, a hint of challenge in his voice.
Now you decide, Emily answered calmly. You can pack and go back to Mums farm. Im not stopping you. Or stay, but your mother wont cross the threshold of this flat again.
Youre giving me an ultimatum? Tom bristled.
Im setting boundaries, Emily shook her head. For the first time in five years of marriage Im saying no. This is my final decision.
Tom opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. Something new flickered in his eyesa steady confidence that hadnt been there before. Perhaps, for the first time, he felt respect for Emily.
Ill think about it, he said quietly and left the kitchen.
Emily poured herself another cup of tea, walked to the window, and watched the sunrise flood the room with golden light. The day promised to be good. Whatever Tom chose, Emily knew she would no longer allow anyone to disturb the peace of her home.
