Darling, could you transfer at least ten pounds? Ive racked up a bill for the electricity and theyre threatening to cut us off! How am I supposed to live without power? my mum cries into the phone.
Emily listens to the familiar tirade, staring at a spot on the kitchen wall. Her face remains unreadable, her fingers tightening around the handset.
No, she replies shortly and hangs up.
She lifts her eyes. Across the table sits Mrs. Clarke, her motherinlaw, who has watched the whole conversation. A silent question flickers in her gaze.
Emily brushes it off. Nothing special. We dont really help each other, she says.
Mrs. Clarke furrows her brow, sets down her fork and dabs her lips with a napkin. Is that how you treat your own parents? she asks, genuine bewilderment in her tone. After all, shes your mum
Emily pushes the halfeaten breakfast plate aside and looks straight into Mrs. Clarkes eyes. I can, when they treat me worse than a stranger on the street, she states firmly.
Mrs. Clarke falls silent, clearly not expecting that answer. The only sound is the ticking of the wall clock. Emily looks away. Sorry, I didnt mean to be harsh.
Mrs. Clarke shakes her head. No, no. Im just surprised. Youve never spoken about your relationship with your mum.
Emily picks up her cup of lukewarm tea, takes a sip, and sets it down. Its a long story.
Mrs. Clarke leans forward. We have time, if youd like to tell it.
Emily pauses, gathering her thoughts. It all began a long time ago, when I had just finished school and was dreaming of university.
She remembers that scorching summer morning vividly: she sits at a tiny desk in the cramped flat they share, nervously refreshing the university website.
A smile spreads across her face as she recalls the excitement. Then I see my surname on the list! I got a place on a grant! Can you imagine? I shriek with joy, run around the flat, calling every friend to tell them.
Its wonderful! she adds, before sighing sadly. Thats what I thought. A week later I learn Im seriously ill.
Emilys eyes cloud with the memory. She doesnt go into detail about the disease, not wanting to reopen old wounds.
The doctor says I need an urgent operation, and it costs a lot of money, she says, turning the tea spoon between her fingers. Mum lives in a onebedroom flat she inherited from a cousin. She never lived there; she rented it out. At the time I think selling it could pay for the surgery.
Mrs. Clarke watches, hand supporting her chin. I begged Mum to sell the flat, Emily continues. I remember sitting at the kitchen table, crying
The recollection floods back. Mum, please! the eighteenyearold Emily begs, eyes red. If I dont get the grant, Ill have to defer my studies for at least a year!
Mum stands at the stove, stirring soup, not turning around. No. That flat is my inheritance, my money. Im not spending it on you.
But its my health! Emily raises her voice. My future!
Mum snaps, eyes narrowing. And what about my future? I still have to work until Im retired. Ill wait for free treatment! Im not selling the flat for that!
But the treatment could take years! Emily jumps up.
Mum shrugs. Then youll wait. Nothing will happen to you.
Emily falls silent, a knot forming in her throat. Mrs. Clarke asks quietly, And then?
Emily forces a bitter smile. I waste two years waiting for free care, lose my grant place, and after the operation I spend months recovering.
Mrs. Clarke whispers, Poor girl.
Emily continues, I have to get a job, earn a contract, rent a flat. I manage it, study parttime, and finally move out of Mums house.
She remembers the day she leaves. Mum stands in the doorway, displeased. Leaving? To whom?
To a friend, Emily replies, packing without looking at her mum. Ill stay with her for a while, then find my own place.
Mum raises her voice. Ungrateful! I raised you, fed you, and you
Emily zips her suitcase, turns to Mum and asks, When I needed help, where were you?
You just wanted money from me! To swindle me! Mum snaps.
Emily walks past her. Goodbye, Mum.
Mum shouts, Dont ever come back! and slams the front door.
Since then we barely speak, Emily says, returning to the present. Ive built my life, graduated, met your son She glances at Mrs. Clarke and smiles. Were still renting, but we plan to buy our own house. Our salaries are good.
Mrs. Clarke nods. You both are doing well. Im proud of you.
Emily adds, Ive heard from friends that Mum sold that onebedroom flat shortly after I left. She spent the money on a few trips abroad and pricey things.
She shakes her head. Now she lives in a twobedroom flat she cant afford. She was made redundant, and shes five years from retirement. She keeps calling me for money.
Emily looks at Mrs. Clarke. If you were in my shoes, would you give money to that woman?
Mrs. Clarke gasps, covering her mouth. I never imagined your mum like that. No wonder she didnt show up at the wedding.
She steps forward, puts an arm around Emilys shoulders. Dont worry, dear. Everything is in Gods hands. Let her be a thing of the past
Emily smiles, tears welling. Thank you, Mrs. Clarke, for caring.
Mrs. Clarke runs her hand through Emilys hair. Dont be so formal with me. Call me Mum, alright?
Emily nods, unable to speak through the emotions.
That evening her husband returns from work and finds Emily weeping, her head resting on his mothers shoulder.
He drops his keys on the side table and asks anxiously, Whats wrong?
Mum, looking over Emilys shoulder, says, Alls well, love. We just had a good hearttoheart.
Emily clings tighter to her motherinlaw. For the first time in years she feels genuine maternal warmth, the kind she never had as a child.
Im glad you get along, her husband says, sitting beside them on the sofa and embracing both women.
Emily closes her eyes, savoring the family moment. She finally has what she always dreamed of a real family with love, support, and care.
Later, alone with her husband in the bedroom, she whispers, Your mum shes amazing.
He pulls her closer. I know. Thats why I turned out the way I am.
She nudges him playfully. Dont brag!
He pretends to be offended. What? By the way, I chose a wonderful wife.
Emily leans into him, inhaling his familiar scent. Thank you, she says softly.
For what?
For your family. For it now being mine too.
He tightens his hold, kisses her forehead. You deserve the very best.
Lying in the dark beside the man she loves, Emily reflects on how her mothers cruelty pushed her toward a new family where she finally finds unconditional love and acceptance.
The phone on the nightstand flashes with a new message. Her mum is texting again, demanding money. Emily glances at the screen, then puts the phone down, switches it off, and snuggles into her husband.
The past no longer holds any power over her. She shifts, closes her eyes, and knows tomorrow will be a fresh day with the family that truly loves her.
