Dear Diary,
This morning I received a call that set my whole day tumbling. Mum, weve got a problem, my son Alex said, his voice tight. The landlord wants us out of the flat today, and I need you to clear out as much space as possible in my room. Well be coming over with the whole family this afternoon. I stared at the phone, stunned.
I hadnt expected such an emergency. Are you sure they can do that? I asked, my mind racing. Even without a formal tenancy agreement, its rare to be evicted in winter without any notice. They should at least give us time to find somewhere else. The shock left me momentarily speechless.
Alexs reply was blunt. They wont give us any time. Natalie fought with the landlord yesterday and thats why shes so angry. I sighed. Natalie needs to learn to keep her tongue in check and treat people with a bit more respect, I muttered, trying to stay calm.
Dont start, Mum! Alex snapped, his frustration seeping through the line. Just sort the room, well be there this evening with the luggage. The call ended with a harsh click, and I was left standing in the hallway, feeling helpless.
Yesterday at work had been a nightmare. Two new clerks arrived, and my boss insisted I show them everything. On top of that I had to finish two reports for senior management and a heap of other tasks. By the time I got home, I was crawling rather than walking into my small twobedroom flat.
I had big plans for the weekend. Saturday was earmarked for a liein and a stroll through Hyde Park in the afternoon. Sunday was supposed to be a catchup with my friend and a bit of shopping. Now all that seemed absurd.
I could not picture how four peoplethe threeyearold grandson Liam, Alex, his wife Natalie, and myselfcould possibly fit into my tiny flat. My weekend ambitions were shattered. First, I had to empty Alexs old bedroom, shuffle a few belongings, then pop to the supermarket and prepare a dinner that would last until the evening.
The thought of all this made me dread the day ahead. It wasnt that I disliked Alex or Liam; my relationship with Natalie was simply strained, and I didnt want any more fireworks. I always tried to treat her with courtesy to spare Alex any embarrassment and to keep the peace that so often erupted in our household.
Despite the ruined plans and my sour mood, I pressed on with the cleaning. Afterward I trod to the shop, bought the essentials, and managed to pull together a simple supper.
By nightfall everything was ready. When Alex arrived with his family, the flat buzzed with noise and chatter. I slipped away to my bedroom early, hoping for a quiet night. Alex and Natalie were still at the kitchen table, while Liam was glued to the TV.
Goodnight, I called softly as I left the kitchen. Youll tidy up the table yourselves, right, Nat?
Yeah, she murmured, eyes glued to her phone.
Sleep was broken by muffled laughter and footsteps, but I tried to ignore it. I convinced myself they would only be staying briefly, just a night or two, until they could find somewhere else. The problems that had arisen were, after all, Natalias doing. I had often reminded her that a little negotiation and respect could smooth over most disputes, yet she either brushed me off or escalated matters further.
The next morning the alarm jolted me awake. I shuffled into the kitchen and was greeted by a mess of halfdrunk tea cups, candy wrappers piled like tiny mountains, and apple cores scattered about. The sink was a disaster of unwashed dishes.
Mom, whats for breakfast? Alex called groggily as I tried to clear the remnants of last nights dinner.
Make some toast and a cup of tea, I replied. Im only having coffee.
Mom, Im stuck in traffic. A single toast wont keep me alive.
Then let your wife handle it, I snapped, She can spend forty minutes in the bathroom and still manage a breakfast. I didnt hire you as a maid, but Im late for work and have to wash the dishes you both left yesterday. As soon as the words left my mouth, Natalie appeared in the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
I thought youd be up at eight, Margaret. Already complaining?
Im not complaining, Natalie. Im talking to Alex. Could you at least make him a proper breakfast? I cant be expected to wash dishes forever, nor cook for you all the time. Please look after yourselves.
Sure, she replied, eyes back on her phone, barely acknowledging me.
The next five days were a tense blur. I held my composure as best I could, hoping Alex would sort out the housing issue within the week so I could finally breathe again.
Friday night brought no sign of them moving out. I guessed Alex didnt want to drag me into his mess. Saturday morning found Natalie and Alex overslept, dead to the world. By lunchtime Alex finally emerged from his bedroom, and it became clear there were no plans to relocate.
On Sunday I decided to ask directly.
Alex, have you found a place? I inquired.
Been looking. Everythings either too pricey or too far. We might stay with you another week.
Fine live here then, I said, resigned.
I couldnt force my son and his family onto the street. I would simply endure another week; it was better than another fight.
In the end, nothing changed. A week later they were still there, apparently settled in as if the flat were theirs. Natalie made no effort to help around the house, dumping dirty dishes in the sink and heading straight for the sofa. I spent my weekends washing, ironing, cooking, and cleaning.
Nat, could you please mop the floor while Im at the shop? I asked.
Im the lady of the house, Margaret. Ill do something else later maybe tomorrow, she replied, shrugging.
Margaret, youre the one who lives here, but you also share the space, I replied calmly.
Whats your problem? My heads pounding! she shouted.
This is absurd, I said, my voice shaking.
Exactly! And you made it happen! she retorted.
I didnt push the argument further. I went to the shop, then tackled the house cleaning myself, poured a cup of tea, and tried to rest.
A sudden, relentless thump jolted me awake. Liam was bouncing a ball indoors.
Liam, balls belong outside, not inside the flat. Its evening and the neighbours can hear, I warned.
But Grandma, I want to play now. Mum and Dad wont take me out, he replied, the ball thudding the floor.
Stop it, I said firmly.
Alex emerged from his room.
Alex, tell Liam to quiet down, I urged.
Before he could answer, Natalie burst in.
Thats it! Youve been pestering me all morning, now youre after the child. What do you want, to kick us out? she shrieked.
If you wont respect the house rules, perhaps you should find somewhere else to live, I replied.
A heavy silence fell.
Fine! Im pregnant, you know! I cant be stressed! Natalie wailed and stormed off.
Mom, shes actually pregnant, Alex whispered, halfapologetic.
I didnt know. Im not asking for miracles; I just want a place of my own.
That evening Natalie packed a bag and announced they would move to a nearby town to stay with her parents while Alex continued his house hunt.
I was left to process the upheaval. I tried to reason with her, but she remained obstinate, theatrically wiping her nose and gathering her things, refusing any compromise.
Three days later Alex secured a new flat and moved out with his family. I finally gave the flat a deep clean, took a weeks holiday, and life settled back into a familiar rhythm, though a sour aftertaste lingered.
Communication with Alex grew thin and strained; I learned about the birth of my granddaughter only through mutual acquaintances. Its awkward when family turns into a battlefield, but theres little I can do.
Now I live for myself. I retreat to a seaside resort twice a year, send a little cash to the grandchildren on their birthdays, and receive Alexs birthday wishes over the phone. No spa or personal space can replace genuine contact with my grandkids, yet Ive learned that you can give happiness to others only when youre content yourself. Thats the conclusion Ive drawn, and I have no regrets about the choices I made. Whether Natalie decides to keep her distance or not is entirely up to her, and any lingering guilt rests solely on her shoulders.
