**”Stay Out of My Family”**
The words burned in her ears as the call endedher own son had blocked her number.
“Mum, for heaven’s sake! I’m a grown man!” James tugged at his hoodie strings, standing in the hallway with his bag slung over his shoulder.
“Where on earth are you going in this weather? Its pouring out there!” Margaret glanced out the rain-streaked window. “And Ive made your favoriteshepherds pie. Cant it wait?”
“Mum, Im thirty. Thirty! And you still track my every move like Im fifteen.”
Margaret clutched the tea towel to her chest. He wasnt wrong. But letting go was agonyespecially after Richard had left, abandoning them both.
“I just worry. Youve been so distant since the divorce with Emily. Maybe we could talk?”
“Talk about what?” James zipped his jacket. “Im fine. Just heading to Daves to watch the match. You know Daveweve been mates since secondary school.”
“Of course I know Dave. Lovely lad. Remember when you two built that den in the garden with old planks? Id bring you squash and sandwiches”
“Mum, Im late.”
He reached for the door, but she grabbed his sleeve.
“Wait! What if Charlottes there? Daves marriedthey mightve invited friends. You wouldnt mind meeting someone nice, would you?”
“Christ” He groaned. “Mum, enough! Ill sort my own love life.”
“I only want whats best! I want you happy, settled, maybe even”
She stopped. His face darkened. Children were still a sore spot.
James wrenched the door open and slammed it behind him. Margaret stood frozen, the tea towel pressed to her heart.
In the kitchen, she turned off the oven. No appetite. Shed reheat it laterif he came home at all.
The rain tapped the sill. The house, once noisy with Richards evening paper rustling and Jamess homework sprawled across the table, was now hollow.
The phone rang. Margaret snatched it up.
“Hello?”
“Margie, its Susan. How are you, love? Not brooding?”
Susanher oldest friend since college.
“Another row with James. I dont know how to talk to him anymore.”
“What set it off this time?”
“The usual. Asked where he was going, and he bit my head off. As if Im some villain.”
“Margie have you considered he might *need* space? A thirty-year-old shouldnt be living with his mum.”
“But where would he go? Rents are sky-high, his salarys modest”
“Or maybe hes not trying because its too easy here. You still cook, clean, fuss like hes ten.”
Margaret opened her mouththen shut it. Susan was right.
“But Im his *mother*. How can I not care?”
“Caring and smothering arent the same. My Tom moved to Manchester at twenty-five. I miss him, but he needed to fly.”
—
James returned near midnight, bypassing the kitchen. Margaret heard him rustling in his room.
Breakfast was silent. He scrolled through his phone while she slid a plate of eggs and bacon toward him.
“Jamie, remember when Dad took us to London Zoo? You adored the elephants.”
“Yeah.” He didnt look up.
“Or your first day of school, so serious with your new backpack”
“Mum, why dredge this up?”
“Time flies. One minute youre small, the next a man.”
He met her eyesexhausted.
“If Im a man, why treat me like a child?”
“I dont”
“You rang Dave *yesterday* to check if I was really there. Think I didnt notice?”
Her cheeks burned. She *had* called. Just to be sure.
“I was worried”
“Im *thirty*. I was *married*. We tried for kids. Im not some teenager!”
“But”
“But what? You think because I live here, you own every breath I take?”
Tears pricked her throat. She *had* only wanted to protect him.
James stood. “Dont wait for me tonight. Staying at Daves.”
“What about dinner? Ill make your favorite”
“Skip it.” The door slammed.
—
Three days. No word. On the fourth, his number rang out.
“The person youre calling is unavailable.”
Odd. James *never* switched off. She dialed Dave.
“Dave, its Margaret. Is James there?”
“No, Mrs. H. He moved out three days ago. Found a flat.”
“A *flat*? Why didnt he *tell* me?”
“Dunno. Guess he wanted to”
She hung up, trembling. A flat. No warning. What if he fell ill? Whod look after him?
She redialed. The automated voice now said: *”Number not recognised.”*
Her stomach dropped. Hed changed his number. And hadnt given her the new one.
—
A week later, the doorbell rang. Margaret raced to ithoping for James.
A stranger stood there: mid-twenties, blonde, kind-eyed.
“Hello. Margaret?”
“Yes”
“Im Olivia. James and I were together. May I come in?”
They sat at the kitchen table. Margarets pulse thundered.
“Mrs. H I came to talk. James hasnt told you”
“Hes told me *nothing*. He wont *speak* to me.”
“I know why. Were getting married.”
Margarets chest tightened.
“Married and he didnt”
“Hes afraid of your reaction. He told me how you were with Emily. How you control his life.”
“I *dont* control”
“You love him. But your love *suffocates* him.”
“How *dare* you! Youre not his mother!”
“No. But I love him. And I see how torn he isbetween being a good son and living *his* life.”
Margaret gripped her teacup. This *girl*, lecturing her on love?
“What do you *want* from me?”
“Let him go. Truly. No daily calls. No drop-ins. No unsought advice.”
“And what do I get?”
“A son who visits because he *wants* to. A daughter-in-law who doesnt see you as a rival. Maybe grandchildren.”
*Grandchildren.* The word ached.
“Only if you let us live *our* way.”
Olivia stood. “Think about it. He loves you. But he cant stay your little boy forever.”
—
After she left, Margaret sat for hoursangry, heartbroken, then numb.
*If I love him, I have to let go.*
The next day, she dialed the number Olivia had left.
“Jamie? Its me. I wont interfere. Just know the doors always open. I love you. And if Olivias willing, Id like to meet her. Properly.”
Silence. Then, softly:
“Thanks, Mum. That means a lot.”
And for the first time in years, Margaret breathed. She wasnt losing her sonshe was setting him free. Maybe herself, too.
