I still remember the day I gave John an ultimatum either we left my motherinlaws house together, or we went our separate ways. I woke at half past six, the glow from his phone lighting my face. From behind the kitchen wall came the clatter of pots as Margaret, his mother, rattled about, rising at six each morning and shaking the whole house with her breakfast routine.
John, why arent you asleep? I asked.
Just watching a video, he replied without looking away from the screen.
I threw the blanket off and sat up. The room was barely twelve feet long; my own childhood bedroom had been larger. Our few belongings were crammed into two suitcases under the bed, the wardrobe having been claimed by Margarets heap of old bricàbrac.
This is only temporary, dear, she would say. Ill sort it out and give you a proper closet soon enough.
What was supposed to be temporary stretched on for eight months of our life together.
John, we need to talk, I said.
Can it wait until after breakfast? he answered. Mums probably flipping pancakes now.
Pancakes! I shouted, then hushed, fearing Margaret would hear. John, I dont care about the pancakes. I want my own place! Separate, understand?
He sighed. Here we go again. We agreed to save up first, didnt we?
When did we agree? I sprang from the bed, pulling on my robe. You said a couple of months. Its been eight! Eight, John! And you havent even tried to find a flat. Youre happy letting Mum feed, wash, and tidy for you. You come home from work and flop on the sofa like a schoolboy after lessons!
Dont get worked up, John stretched. Everythings fine. Were managing, cutting costs.
What costs? I laughed bitterly. You pull in thirtyfive hundred pounds a month and refuse to look for another job! You brag about Uncle Victors comfortable post and the friendly team, yet with that wage well never put anything away in five years!
John frowned; he never liked me mentioning his salary.
But the jobs stable. Im not jumping around every six months like you do.
I felt a sting, but stayed quiet. Yes, I had been changing jobs, hunting for better pay and a chance to move up. At the time I was earning sixty hundred pounds as an administrator at a medical centre, with a promise of promotion to senior administrator at eighty hundred.
Listen, I whispered, Im tired of asking your mothers permission to hang a little shelf for my cosmetics in the bathroom. Im tired of hearing that I fry the potatoes wrong or iron your shirts incorrectly. Im tired of pretending I enjoy watching her nightly soaps in the kitchen because theres no television in our room!
Ethel, youre exaggerating, John protested. Mum isnt like that.
Your mum, I cut in, treats me like a temporary girl who will disappear once she finds someone better. She leaves little sabotages every day a pinch of salt instead of sugar in my tea, washing my underwear together with your black socks until everything turns grey.
I kept my mouth shut, hoping shed eventually get used to me. But I was thirty, John! I wanted my own house, children, not to remain a foreverguest in someone elses flat.
John lowered his head; I could see the conflict tearing him between me and his mother.
Theres a onebed flat that our mutual friend, Ian, rents out, I went on. Two thousand pounds a month, clean, but almost no furniture. Ive already looked. Between the rent and food we could manage. Im saving twenty hundred each month for a deposit. In two years we could buy a small newbuild flat of our own.
Youve decided everything without me? he snapped. You went looking on your own! Thats supposed to be a joint decision.
A joint decision? I smirked bitterly. John, love, we never decide anything together. All choices are made over your mothers kitchen table while you just nod. Even our holiday went where she sent us to her sisters cottage in Devon, though I dreamed of a seaside break in Brighton!
From the next room came Margarets voice: Children, breakfast! The pancakes are getting cold!
Im moving out the day after tomorrow, I announced, with you or without you. If without, then its divorce. Decide!
The rest of the day I drifted through a fog. At work colleagues asked if I was ill my face must have shown it. That evening I lingered late, wandering aimlessly through the shopping centre, avoiding the empty house.
John wasnt home. Margaret sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea with jam.
Ethel, has John told you you both want to move? she asked, her smile sugary but eyes cold.
Its no joke, Mrs. Collins, I replied.
Money down the drain! she huffed. Live here, save! We lived with my own mother for twenty years and got nowhere.
I dont want to save for twenty more, I said. I want to live now.
Youre a spoiled child, she retorted. You think John will chase after you? Hes obedient, he wont abandon his mother.
Well see, I said, retreating to the bedroom.
John arrived just before midnight. I pretended to be asleep, but he slipped onto the edge of the bed and whispered,
Ethel, I went to see the flat you mentioned.
And? I asked.
It looks decent bright, windows onto a courtyard, quiet. Ive taken it. We sign tomorrow. Mum shouted for half an hour, Dad stayed silent as always. But I decided youre right. We need to start living on our own.
I could hardly believe my ears.
Really?
Really, he took my hand. Im sorry it took so long. I was scared we wouldnt manage, and I felt sorry for Mum. Shes alone, and Dads always away on work trips. I thought Id be deserting them.
Were not moving across the sea, just to another neighbourhood, I said. We can visit her every week.
I told her that, he chuckled. She said she didnt want to see me any more.
Itll pass, I told him, pulling him into an embrace. Shell get used to it, youll see.
I also want John faltered. I want a better job. Ill look, I promise.
I kissed him. Together well make it work.
We moved on a Saturday while Margaret was away at her country cottage. Johns father helped haul the suitcases up to the fourth floor. As he left, he said,
Youre doing the right thing, love. Young couples need their own space.
