Ill Find My Daughter a Better Husband
This months going to be tougher, I muttered, refreshing my mobile banking app.
I sighed. Lately, my money leaked away like water, and I had a feeling I knew whyI just couldnt bring myself to say it aloud.
As I got out of the lift, I loosened my tie. Third floor, fourth door on the left. After three years, my body knew the way so well it barely needed my mind.
The key turned in the lock, and straight away that homely scent hit mefried potatoes with parsley. Emma always sprinkled the parsley generously, never shy about flavour. I kicked off my shoes and dropped my bag on the sideboard.
Im home.
In the kitchen! Emma called back.
She was stood at the stove, stirring something in the frying pan. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, that old checked shirt slung over her shoulders. I wandered up behind her and kissed her on the head.
Smells amazing.
Potatoes and mushrooms. Have a seat, Ill set everything out in a minute.
Emma smiled, but I could see it didnt reach her eyes. I always noticed when she did thatpretending cheerfulness when she was really troubled. Years of being together makes you good at reading your wife, better than any book.
I sat at the table and watched as Emma dished up dinner. Her movements were abrupt, not smooth like usual. Something was bothering her; probably another phone call from her mother. Margaret was an expert at leaving people unsettled for hours afterwards.
Mum rang? I asked, already knowing the answer.
Emma paused for a moment, set my plate down, and took her seat opposite.
Yeah. Nothing much.
A lie. Margaret never called without a reason. Each chat came with a little poison barb tucked inside.
I didnt push it. I couldve asked and insisted, brought all those words out into the openthe ones Margaret poured into her daughters ears. But why bother? It was nothing new. The same old complaints: wages too low, cars too old, no prospects. Shed been singing that tune for years.
Dinner was quiet and cosy. Our flat was smalla one-bedroom in a blocky old buildingbut it was ours, not rented. I bought it before wed married; that fact gave me comfort. Maybe it wasnt a mansion, but it was honest and hard-won.
Emma picked at her potatoes absently. She was miles away in her thoughts. I knew what occupied her. Margaret had a way of sticking in your head, like one of those irritating adverts you cant forget.
Margaret had taken a dislike to me from the very first meeting. Id come round in my best jeans and only half-decent jumper. She looked me up and down as though I was a clearance item on the shelf, then pursed her lips.
What do you do for a living? shed asked.
Im an engineer.
An engineer It sounded as though Id confessed something embarrassing. Decent pay, at least?
Emma had leapt in, trying to change the subject. But the tone was already set. Three years on, Margaret hadnt softened a bit.
Every visit was an endurance test. Helens son started his second business this year. When are you buying a new car? Yours will fall apart soon. Emma always dreamed of a house in the country when she was little, did you know?
I learnt to let it slide pastsmile, nod, dont rise to the bait. Whats the point? Margaret wasnt changing her mind. Shed made her judgment and stuck with it.
Emma finished, pushed her plate aside.
Mum wants us round for dinner on Saturday. Dads birthday.
I felt myself tense. Saturday dinners at Margarets were their own brand of torment. Long table, tons of relatives, and Margaret at the head like a parade general.
What time?
Seven.
All right. Well stop for a cake on the way.
Mum said no, shes got it all sorted.
Of course. Margaret loved being in charge of everything. Bringing our own cake would ruin her carefully arranged picture.
Emma gathered the plates and took them to the sink. I watched her backsmall and delicate. She always reminded me of a little bird I wanted to shelter from the winds. But the worst wind blew from her parents flat, and you couldnt hide from that.
Emma. She turned. You know I love you.
And I love you. Her answer was soft, but something darted through her eyesdoubt? Weariness? Guilt?
I didnt ask. Sometimes its better not to know whats in your loved ones heart, especially if the thoughts were planted by someone else.
Saturday arrived too soon
I pulled our battered old Toyota up outside Margarets building. The paint had peeled on the wing ages ago, but I still hadnt found time to fix it. Emma sat next to me, fiddling with her handbag strap.
Ready?
No, she admitted. But we have to go in anyway.
Margarets flat met us with the scent of roast meat and the low hum of relatives. Emmas dad, Charles, a gentle, quiet man, hugged his daughter and shook my hand. He looked a bit uncomfortable with all the fuss.
Everyone was already seated around the long tableuncles, aunts, cousins. Even after three years, I still couldnt remember all their names. Margaret presided at the head, handing out orders to the youngest.
I slid into a seat next to Emma, nearer the edge. A tactical choiceeasier to escape if things went south.
The first half hour went peacefully enough. Toasts for Charles, clinking of glasses, laughter. I even relaxed a little, reached for some bread.
Michael. Margarets voice cut in, and I realised: Id relaxed too soon. You and Emma are still living in that shoebox flat, arent you?
Yes, Margaret. It suits us fine.
Suits you, she echoed, but what about when you have children? Where will you fit a baby in that cupboard?
Emma tensed beside me. I put my hand on hers under the table.
Well sort the housing when we start thinking about kids.
Youll sort it, Margaret snorted. On your salary? You need a mortgage, Michael. Thats what sensible people do. Take one, upgrade to a proper flat. Progress.
I dont fancy taking on debt, I replied calmly. We own our place. Thats good enough for now.
Good enough! Margaret swept her eyes round the family, looking for allies. Hear that? He says good enough. Wifes crowded in a tiny flat while her friends move into spacious homes.
Mum Emma began quietly.
Dont interrupt. Im talking to your husband. She turned to me. Take Helens sonDaniel, remember him? Two mortgages, but now hes got a three-bed in the centre and a German car. And you? You drive a rust bucket and live in a box. Arent you ashamed?
Slowly, I put down my fork. Three years. For three years Id swallowed these digs, the comparisons, the contempt. For Emmas sake. For the familys sake.
Im not ashamed, I answered steadily. I earn an honest living. I dont steal or cheat. I live within my means.
Within his means! Margaret shot up, slapping the table with her palm.
The glasses rattled. A fork clattered to the floor. Her face flushed red.
Youre no man, youre useless! My daughter deserves a proper husband, not you! Ill find her someone better myself!
Silence crashed over the room. Relatives froze, forks mid-air. Charles stared into his plate, afraid to look up.
I stood slowly and calmly. Three years of silence had ended.
Margaret. I wont try to prove my worth to someone who despises me. If you think Im not good enough, thats your business. But I wont accept any more insults.
Emma stared at me, wide-eyed, then looked at her mother. The two most important people in her life, divided by a line that demanded a choice.
Emma stood up.
Mum. I love you. But if you insult my husband again, were leavingand we wont come back.
Margaret froze.
What did you say?
You heard me. Michael is my husband. I chose him. I wont let you belittle him anymore. Not ever.
How dare you! Margaret spluttered. Ungrateful little wretch! I raised you, taught you, and now look what you’ve become! Throwing yourself away on this this useless man!
Mum, enough!
Emmas cry sliced the air. Everyone shrank back in their chairs. Even Aunt Dorothy, who always had something to say, kept quiet.
Youve controlled my life for years, Emma pressed on, lips trembling. Told me what to wear, who to be friends with, who to love. Im finished. Im an adult. Ill decide who Im with and how I live.
Margaret glared at her, lips white, jaw clenched.
Youll remember today, she hissed. When he leaves you with nothing, youll beg to come back. And Ill think twice before letting you in.
She swept past, not looking at anyone, and slammed the bedroom door.
I moved to Emma and wrapped her in a tight hug. She buried her face in my chest, shoulders shaking.
You did the right thing, I whispered. Im proud of you.
Charles struggled up from the table.
Go home, you two, he murmured. Let her cool off. Maybe, one day.
Emma was silent for the drive home. I let her be. Some wounds shouldnt be hurried.
Back in our flat, she finally spoke:
I wont ring her first.
Ill back you, whatever you decide.
She looked up at metired, tearful. Yet somewhere behind that gaze, a fire had started.
Well get through this, she said.
I pulled Emma close. Outside, the sun was setting. Our tiny flat didnt feel cramped anymore. It was our fortress, and we both knew this was only the beginning.
