First Impressions
“Mum, this is Emily,” says Oliver with a hint of awkwardness as he introduces the young woman hes brought home at such a late hour.
“Good evening,” replies Margaret, eyeing the unexpected guest with disapproval. “What a charming time for introductions! Midnight in five minutes…”
“I told Ollie it was too late,” Emily defends herself at once. “But does he listen? Stubborn as a mule, this one!”
“Clever,” Margaret thinks bitterly. “She shifts blame and paints him as unreasonable. Not a likable girl, this one.”
“Come in, then,” she sighs before retreating to her room without another word.
What else can she do, after all? Throw her only son out in the middle of the night over a stranger? If they want to live together, so be it. A mothers job is to protect her son and open his eyes. And Margaret will make sure of itsoon. Oliver will send his girlfriend packing without a second thought. He might even thank her for it.
All night, Margaret plots how to remove Emily from the flat.
No, she doesnt oppose Oliver marrying. At thirty, its high time he settles down.
But not with her!
For starters, shes much youngerproof his heads in the clouds.
A wife? A mother? A homemaker?
Then theres her attitudeshowing up at unreasonable hours without so much as an apology! And she had the nerve to blame her precious son for no reason…
Worse, she stayed the night.
Was this a first or a habit?
Simply put, Margaret doesnt like her.
So Oliver will come to feel the same. Why waste his time?
The plan becomes unnecessary. Emily hands her every chance to set things straight.
The first warning comes in the morning.
She locks herself in the bathroom… for an hour.
Oliver, helpless, paces the flat, growing angrier by the minute.
“Darling, whats wrong?” Margaret asks with exaggerated sweetness. “The girls getting readyshe wants to impress you…”
“But I need to get to work!”
“Then knock, explain shes not the only one here,” suggests his mother.
“Thatd be awkward,” he mutters. “Well talk later. What about you, Mum? Wont you be late?”
“Me? No. Ive been ready for ages. Here, Ive made pancakes. Come eat.”
“I havent even washed!”
“Too bad, do it later. For now, dont waste timeeat up. Youll need energy for the day.”
Oliver sits at the table.
Just then, Emily steps out of the bathroom, a towel on her head, glowing.
“Finally!” Oliver exclaims, rushing to the fogged-up mirror.
He washes in a hurry, shaves at lightning speed, wolfs down a pancake in three bites, and from the doorstep calls out:
“See you tonight! Hope you two get along.”
“Ollie!” Emily calls after him. “We were supposed to fetch my things today.”
“We will. Tonight. Dont be bored!” His voice already echoes down the stairs.
Margaret rises, shuts the door behind him, and turns to Emily with a sharp question:
“Arent you ashamed?”
“No,” Emily smiles. “Should I be?”
“Olivers late because of you!”
“He wont be. Hell take a cab, surely. Dont worry, itll be fine.”
“Regardless, remember thisyoure not alone here. If you want the bathroom for an hour in the morning, wake up earlier. Lucky for you, Im off today.”
“It wont happen again,” Emily says simply. “Sorry.”
Margaret is stunned. She expected a fight, and yet…
“Right, then,” she grumbles, heading to the bathroom.
The first thing she notices is a new toothpaste tube, opened before the old one was finished.
“Emily, why did you open a new toothpaste?”
“I prefer this one.”
“Bring your own, then. And your shampoo.”
“Of course, Mrs. Whitmore…”
“And your towels!”
“Ill bring them…”
Despite her attempts to provoke a row, Emily doesnt bite. She agrees to everything, nods politely, “takes note” of her obligations.
Out of arguments, Margaret goes for the jugular.
“Why are you here?”
“Oliver and I love each other…”
“Of course you love himwho wouldnt? But I dont get itwhat does he see in you?”
“I havent asked…”
“What about your parents?”
“Mums a seamstress. Works in a factory.”
“And your father?”
“Never knew him.”
“I see. Fatherless. And how do you plan to be a proper wife to my son?”
“Ill do my best…”
“You could try, but it wont work. Oliver doesnt love you. He just thinks he does. I know him! And hell never marry you! Why would he? Youre already at his feet.”
“He loves me,” Emily whispers, voice shaking. “Im sure of it.”
“Youre fooling yourself. Think youre the first?”
“No… but it doesnt matter…”
“Doesnt matter? Hell tire of you in a week! Youre not good enough for him! Ever heard of brains?”
“Yes. But here, the words misplaced.”
“And whys that?”
“Ive a university degree.”
“So what? Listen, girl, go home. This isnt your place. Ive been trying to tell you since morning, but you wont listen.”
“Fine, Ill leave. But what will you tell Oliver? He wont like it.”
“Not your problem! Get out and dont come back. Youre not welcome.”
Margaret shocks herself with her cruelty. Never did she imagine speaking like this. The bitter words spill unchecked.
And Emily?
The girl just looks at her, understanding perfectly.
Her mother is jealous. Theyve barely met, and already hatred simmers. And this is only the beginning…
The front door slamsOlivers back earlier than expected.
“Already?” Margaret snaps, hoping Emily would be gone by now.
“They let me leave!” he cheers. “Told them it was a family matter. Hear that, Em? Family!”
“What matter?” Margaret grumbles.
“Were registering our union at the registry office, then fetching her things! Em, get ready!”
Margarets heart sinks. Shes lost more than a battleshe may have ruined her chance to be a grandmother forever.
