Just move back in with your mum for good, my wife said.
If you leave now, Emma said quietly, dont bother coming back. Ever. Take your petrol cans, your toolbox, your tractor magazines. Go live with your mum, for good.
“This flat is mine, Simon. My parents left it to me. And your money you know what, Ill manage.”
“Simon, it’s Saturday. We promised our daughter wed go to the circus. And weve got to get groceries the fridge is empty.”
I grimaced.
“Youll buy them yourself, theres a shop just round the corner. As for the circus well go next weekend, I promise. Mums in a right state, really needs me.”
She really needs you every week, and its been five years now, Emma replied softly. First its the boiler, then the fence, then the cucumbers didnt turn out
Dont you think you spend more time at your mums than here at home?
Its my home as well! I snapped. I grew up there. And this city of yours I feel trapped. Its just commute, work, home, repeat.
I cant stand it here. I want to go back to the countryside, its the only place I actually feel alive!
***
Ever since Emma had fallen pregnant, Id started to build an invisible wall between us. She seemed only the mother of my child now somehow sacred and untouchable. Wed argued steadily for nearly five years but never split up, both clinging onto the idea of this marriage for our own reasons.
Once again, my flight to the countryside sparked another row.
There you go again! I bellowed from the hallway, lacing up my boots. I bring home money, dont I? Fix all the issues, dont I? What else do you want?
I want a husband, Simon. Not just some lodger who drops by to change his clothes and grab a meal between his shifts over at his mums.
Right, thats it. Im fed up. Ill be late tomorrow dont wait up.
I stormed out of the flat, glancing back just as Emma went to peer out the window. I saw our car speed off, vanishing round the bend.
Up until our daughter was born, it hadnt been this bad. What happened? Sixteen years together
***
A couple of weeks later, Emma ran into trouble. Her grandmas flat sitting empty since her gran had gone to a care home was being squatted by a distant relative. Harry, her third cousin, had travelled down from another part of the country, let himself in and declared he wasnt leaving.
Asked how hed got the keys, he claimed gran had given them herself, responding to all requests with sneers.
Emma tried dealing with it herself, but Harry a big, cocky lad simply slammed the door in her face.
Si, Emma said that evening, finally catching me at home, I need you to come with me to Grans place.
Harrys moved in, and hes acting up. Grans worried, her blood pressure is through the roof. She swears shes never let anyone stay there.
Honestly, he mustve broken the lock and replaced it my keys dont work anymore. We need to kick him out.
Youre a man; hell listen to you.
I paused my scrolling through tractor photos.
What, just throw him out? And his stuff what do I do with it?
Leave it on the landing if you must! Hes got no right to be there. Simon, I really need your help. Im nervous about going alone.
I sighed and scratched my head.
Fine. Ill pop round after work tomorrow, have a word. But dont make a scene, Em. I hate drama.
The next day, I really did go. The chat was short-lived. Harry eyed me up, packed his bags and vanished to God-knows-where.
Emma let out a long breath. She even made dinner, hopeful that my show of help might start to bring us closer together.
No such luck. That evening, my mother phoned. Emma picked up, braced for the usual complaints about her health, but
Emma, I know everything.
What about, Margaret?
About how youre using my son! Do you think hes your lackey? Why have you dragged Simon into all these messes?
Your relatives, your flats sort your own life out! Why does *he* have to do your dirty work?
Emma was stunned.
“Margaret, hes my husband. Its our problem, not just mine. He only helped me get rid of a freeloading squatter. Whats wrong with that?”
“Whats wrong, Emma,” my mother shrieked, “is that round here, we all reckon you dont even want a husband! You treat him like a maid!”
Hes my boy first! Sort your own issues out. Dont you dare drag Simon into your familys rubbish again!
Hes got his own home, his own mum, and his own life! Youre just a place for him to sleep, be grateful for that!
Youre holding him hostage with the kid, none of us can live properly because of you!”
Emma sat, reeling for sixteen years, mother-in-law had never spoken to her like that.
“Margaret, do you realise what youre saying? If youre trying to
What marriage, Emma? she cut her off bluntly. There is no marriage. Simons been gone in spirit for ages.
Youve squeezed out a child well done, ticked your box. Now let my boy live how he wants.
He tells me everything, Emma. How sick of you and your nagging he is. Just leave him alone!
Emma put the phone down gently, turning away towards the window. I poked my head into the room and understood everything at a glance.
“Who called? Mum?”
“She says Ive no right to your help. That you dont need me at all.”
I hesitated. My eyes flickered with confusion, but I quickly pulled myself together.
“She was out of order, thats all. Just got carried away you know shes dramatic.”
“Dramatic? Simon, shes just written me off. Point blank said Im nothing to you.”
“What did you tell her that I make you shift bricks for me?”
“I said nothing! Just that I was worn out after helping at your grans”
“Worn out? Worn out from what, Simon?! Im thirty-nine. Weve been together sixteen years.”
You honestly dont see youre married to her, mentally, deep down, and hopelessly. Your real familys out there, with Mum, plotting how to get you back for good.
Dont start, Emma, I snapped, edging for the door. Youre blowing things out of proportion. Im just helping my parents. Its my duty.
Emma lost her temper.
“Youve got a daughter here! A woman who used to love you! You know why theres nothing left between us?”
Because youve locked yourself inside this idea of mother shoved out everything else. Its not normal, Simon!”
“Thats enough!” I thumped my fist against the doorframe. “Im not listening. Im going out to Mums in the countryside. For a couple of days. We both need to cool off.”
If you leave now, Emma said quietly, “dont come back. Ever. Take your petrol cans, your toolbox, your tractor magazines. Go live with your mum for good.”
The repairs, the gardening, the evening teas thats really your dream, isnt it?
The flats mine, Simon. My parents left it to me. As for your money Ill cope.
Better to be alone, than feel unwanted in your own home.
I packed my bag in silence. I was sure Emma was bluffing the women in my family always stayed, always endured. Mum put up with it, so did the aunts.
***
Two weeks passed. I didnt call. Emma knew my game I wanted her to crawl back for forgiveness. She always had before.
No doubt they were having a knees-up at Mums Margaret baking scones to celebrate her prodigal boys return.
But Emma didnt wait around. She changed the locks, filed for maintenance not those pathetic little amounts I gave for expenses, but the full legal share from my good salary.
She saw a solicitor and filed for divorce.
Three weeks later, I finally rang.
Emma, you changed the locks? I sounded lost even to myself. I came by, my key doesnt work. Neighbours were staring
Emma, sitting in her friends kitchen, answered calmly.
Im not taking visitors today.
Have you gone mad? Open up right now! My stuffs inside, my passports in the bedside drawer
Your things are downstairs with the concierge. In boxes. The passports there as well. Divorce papers are included have a read.
What divorce? Emma, come on is this about Mum? Ill talk to her, shell apologise
No need, Simon. She got what she wanted. Shes got you, all to herself. So enjoy.
Emma hung up, and her friend gave her an approving pat on the shoulder.
***
Emma and our daughter were heading out for a walk. Four-year-old Sophie was a lot calmer; she didnt ask where Daddy had disappeared to anymore.
Now, I would show up every couple of weeks for a quick visit, bring toys, and looked, frankly burnt out.
That day, Emma bumped into me outside the block. I was leaning on the car, obviously waiting.
Hello, I muttered. Ill take Sophie for a bit? Grab some cake in a café.
Fine. Take her. Dont let her take off her hat, its cold.
Emma sat on a bench, watching as I strapped Sophie into her seat.
Hows the countryside? she asked politely.
I shrugged.
“Alright. Bit dull, though.”
“Isnt it nicer? Your friends, fresh air, nature. Mum right there.”
I shot her a sour look.
“Mum she nags me every day now. Nothings ever good enough she says Im skint because I have child support payments now, the salarys not endless.”
Used to hand over everything to her, now Its constant arguments. She reckons Im useless because I couldnt keep my wife.
Emma broke into an involuntary smile.
Well, she was thrilled when she split us up
I shrugged again.
She thought shed have me and the cash. Turns out shes got me, but no cash.
Turns out keeping a countryside house going is more than patching the fence once a year. Its all falling apart.
And the blokes those mates of mine they just want a drink. No one actually wants to work.
I fell silent, and then glanced at Emma.
Ive been thinking Maybe we could start again? Ill rent a room in town. Make an effort. Come round
Emma stood, straightening her scarf, looking me right in the eye.
No, Simon. We wont start again. You know, Ive just realised: you never loved that village as much as you claimed.
You were just hiding out. Dodging responsibility, running from adult life. There, youre always Mummys boy, getting away with anything.
Here, you had to be a proper man. You couldnt manage it.
Emma
Bring Sophie back in an hour. And dont buy her ice cream!
She turned and strode towards the block. Finally, everything was clear.
Emma found, to her own surprise, that she actually pitied her ex-husband a little.
Honestly to be over forty and never cut the apron strings.
And what did he expect, trying to get back together? What woman in her right mind would step on that same rake again?
