For as long as I can remember, it was always just Mum and me. I barely heard from Dad except for brief phone calls and a few pounds he sent over now and then until I came of age, but Mum was the one who raised me. She never dared chase happiness again; instead, she dedicated her life to bringing me up. We lived modestly but comfortably, until after my university days and my wedding thats when the housing problem surfaced.
My husband, Jack, grew up in a large family. Constant arguing over his parents house meant it was eventually sold for next to nothing. With the meagre sum he got, and some generous help from Mum, we managed to invest and finally bought a family car. Truthfully, only Jack was legally entitled to it and drove it everywhere, but it felt like a win.
At first, the three of us settled into our cosy two-bedroom flat, and for a while, things seemed fine. Yet Jack, every now and then, let slip his discomfort living with his mother-in-law mumbling about her eavesdropping, interfering, sticking her nose in our marital affairs. I never felt it; Id always lived with Mum. It was convenient: while I worked, she cleaned and cooked.
Then, after the news of my pregnancy, Jacks behaviour worsened. He deliberately dropped the question over dinner where were we going to put the babys nursery since there were only two rooms? I tried to shield Mum from being hurt, but when I wasnt home, Jack would say whatever he pleased. I was oblivious until one day, I came home to an empty flat. Mum was gone.
Shes probably gone to the shop, Jack muttered dismissively.
As tea-time approached, my worry grew. My persistent questions grated on Jack so much that he unloaded every nasty thing hed said to Mum, insisting life would be better without her that she took up too much space.
I never expected that from him. We managed well enough, even in cramped quarters, and now the news of a baby had rattled him so?
Before it was too late, I dashed out to search for Mum. I found her alone on a bench in the park, afraid to return home. I wrapped her in a tight hug, soothing her, urging her not to take Jacks words to heart. Hes not evil, just anxious about the future, I assured her. Wed figure something out.
When we finally returned home and Id caught my breath, I gave Jack an ultimatum one more outburst, and hed have to make room himself. Being pregnant doesnt make me helpless or dependent. On the contrary, Jack relies on my Mums flat and ought to be grateful he has a roof over his head and isnt coughing up hundreds for rent. If hes set on change, he can be the one to change things; if hes happy living here, then Mum has every right to be happy too.
