Why arent you opening the door? Victor asks, his voice echoing down the hallway.
Im not. Im not going to, Emily replies, arms crossed. Guests should ring before they turn up, and they shouldnt be rummaging through drawers, the fridge or the cupboards.
You mean you wont let her in? Shes my mother! Shes here to see me!
Then meet her elsewhere. Not in my flat.
Emily thinks of Vicky, who always got along with her own mum.
You know, if I start listing everything my ex did better than you, well both feel embarrassed, Victor says.
Emilys fingers drum the kitchen table. Im not sure about myself, she says nervously. If you and Vicky were that happy together, why did you break up with her?
Victor turns away, staring gloomily out the window.
Anyway, you know the story
I do. So stop talking about your Vicky then, Emily snaps. Otherwise Ill be your next ex.
Emily is already ready to take drastic steps.
She met Victor about a year ago through a mutual friend. She even knew that same Vicky, though they werent close. Vicky brought Victor along once, and a few months later she vanished from everyones radar.
One night, slightly drunk, Victor bragged that he split from Vicky after catching her cheating. He even shed a tear.
Emily finds that oddly sweet a man who isnt afraid to show his feelings and who values love. Something clicks; she wants to comfort him.
She realises its more a mothertype instinct than pure romantic interest, but thats enough to spark a relationship.
At first everything is lovely. He picks her up after work, drives her home, sends cute texts daily, asks whether shes bundled up enough. Emily feels wrapped in his attention.
Her first worry appears when a message buzzes from Vicky herself.
Hey, I heard youre seeing Victor. Its none of my business, but be gentle with him. Hes got a solid, inseparable duo with his mum.
Emily notes it, brushes it off as trivial. Love, she thinks, overcomes such bumps. After all, if Victors past with one woman was messy, that doesnt mean the next will be.
Hi. I think well sort this out ourselves. Thanks for the warning, Emily replies.
She doesnt want to keep the conversation going; it feels awkward for Victor.
Victor, meanwhile, pays no mind to her comfort.
When his mother, Margaret Palmer, first shows up unannounced, Emily remains almost calm. Maybe they both dont grasp how uncomfortable it is. Surely Margaret just worries about her son and wants to see who he lives with.
Emily tells Victor to greet his mum, pulls on a hastily tied dress, tosses her hair into a ponytail, and, still halfasleep with bags under her eyes, heads to meet the prospective motherinlaw. As she steps inside, she already starts inspecting the sideboard.
Ah, everythings a mess, Margaret says with a patronising smile. And soon youll be wearing mismatched socks. Emily, lets have breakfast, and Ill show you how to fold laundry so nothing gets torn or lost.
Instead of a polite hello, Margarets intrusion feels like a rude poke into Emilys private space. Responding with rudeness would be wrong at the start of a relationship, so Emily holds her tongue.
Oh dear, you look exhausted, Margaret coos. You need cucumber masks. Better still, get your kidneys checked. I have a friend
Emily forces a smile, nods, and pretends to be fascinated by strangers ailments. Inside, she just wants to crawl back into bed; its only eight oclock in the morning on a Saturday, and she stayed up late last night hoping to catch up on sleep.
Margarets visit drags on until evening. Emily receives a barrage of criticism and helpful tips on watering plants, cleaning the bath and polishing cutlery. She even gets a brief practice session. She feels squeezed like a lemon. Throughout, Victor never offers to help or hint to his mother that they need a break.
Is your mum always this energetic? Emily asks cautiously before heading to bed.
She likes large families and close ties, but she also craves some distance.
Probably, Victor shrugs. Whats the problem? She just wants a friend. We used to live with Vicky at her place; it was cosy. Now shes bored on her own.
Emily sighs, I hope we dont end up living as a trio.
Whats the issue? You object to my mother? Victor snaps. She was friends with Vicky, everything was fine.
Emily stays silent. Vicky is eight years younger, a bit of a peoplepleaser, and its true they were friends. Margaret probably knows all her acquaintances by name, their diagnoses, how to iron sheets perfectly and bake pies from her motherinlaws recipe book.
Emily isnt buying that happiness. She has enough life experience to know that the fewer outsiders meddle in a couples affairs, the better. Victor, however, sees things differently.
My mum is very sociable. She finds common ground with anyone, he says.
Only not everyone will be thrilled about that, Emily thinks, but lets the comment slip.
The next day Margaret returns at dawn, this time conducting a fridge inspection.
Quail eggs? I only make Victor quail eggs because theyre healthier for men, she declares with an important air. Your shelves arent very clean youll be eating that later. Emily, you should wipe them down.
Emily thinks, I never eat straight off the shelves.
Ill clean them later, Margaret Palmer, she promises. We wanted to relax today. Its the weekend, after all.
Victor, by the way, is happily sleeping while Emily endures Margarets endless chores.
Exactly! A weekend is for cooking and cleaning, the woman proclaims. Grab a sponge and a cloth. Next weekend Ill teach you Victors favourite meat pie. Youll lick your fingers!
Emily freezes, arms crossed over her chest. Shes not ready to be told what to do for a second day in a row.
Margaret, could you write down my number? So you can call before you drop by. I might have plans next weekend.
Calling? You think I cant visit my own son? Margaret retorts, hurt.
Of course you can. Its just that your son now lives with a woman. It would be nice if we all considered each others wishes.
We never had these problems with Vicky, Margaret says, smiling thinly.
My exs mum never rang early in the morning either, Emily interjects. She used to bring cherry pies. Want the recipe?
Margarets face darkens, a crease deepening on her forehead, anger flickering in her eyes.
Emily, think carefully. In our family the night owl doesnt outsing the early bird.
Margaret leaves, but a sour feeling remains with Emily. She doesnt know what to do. Victor seems deaf to her concerns; his mother treats their flat as if it were her own home. And the ghost of Vicky still haunts their conversations.
Vickys cabbage rolls were better her mum taught her, Victor mutters over dinner.
Maybe youll learn from her, and Ill get to cook for you too, Emily replies.
She suspects Margaret is pushing Victor, but she doesnt want to dive into that. She just wants the topic gone.
The next month passes quietly, without visits, until the phone rings again. This time Emily decides firmly not to answer.
Bad? she wonders. Maybe, but is it right to keep letting strangers barge into my home without warning after a polite hint?
Within five minutes, Victor appears in the hallway, blearyeyed, annoyed, a hint of anger in his tone.
Why arent you opening the door?
I dont want to. And I wont. Guests should announce themselves and stop rifling through cupboards, the fridge and the wardrobes.
You mean you wont? Shes my mum! She came to see me!
Then meet her elsewhere. Not in my flat.
Victors outburst is loud enough for the neighbours to hear. He accuses Emily of rejecting his mother, and therefore him. Margaret shouts from the doorway, demanding entry, phone buzzing with calls.
Finally, Emily draws a line.
Thats enough! Either you send your mum home right now and explain what guest means, or we break up!
Victor chooses the latter.
Emily isnt devastated. They dont even have time to exchange belongings. Perhaps its for the best. She never wanted to live with someone whose past relationships and overinvolved mother shadowed every moment.
A few weeks later, a surprising piece of news reaches Emily. Victor has a new lover. Their mutual friend from the same social circle tells her, She moved in with him and his mum, but she wants to get out. She asked me to introduce you.
Emily raises an eyebrow. Why? Whats the occasion?
If you believe Victors mum, youre a perfect womanbeautiful, strongwilled, a good cook.
Were talking about Victors mum and me?
Their mums seem to like anyone whos not living with Victor any more. the friend shrugs.
From then on, Emily listens to gossip but keeps her own head. She doesnt swallow every rumor, yet she stays wary of men who constantly harp on expartners and cling to their mothers.
A macho who lets his mum dominate will never build a balanced life a mothers place is important, but only within sensible limits. Do you agree? Drop a comment and like if you feel the same.
