Charlotte, bake an apple pie for dinner tomorrow, Margaret declared as she drifted into the kitchen and eased herself onto a chair that seemed to sigh under her weight. I havent had a proper pastry in a long time; youre always cooking some strange dishes.
In the dream the kitchen walls pulsed gently with each word. Charlotte turned away from the stove where she was frying sausages for dinner. Her mother-in-law sat with her usual displeased expression, adjusting her familiar burgundy sweater that appeared to tighten around her like a vine.
Im allergic to apples, Margaret, Charlotte replied calmly, flipping a sausage that sizzled as if protesting. Im not going to make it.
What do you mean youre not going to? the mother-in-laws voice sharpened, echoing oddly as if from far away. I asked you, and youre refusing me? Who do you think you are to talk back to me? In my time, daughters-in-law respected their elders!
This isnt about respect, Charlotte said, moving the pan to another burner that glowed strangely blue. If I cook apples, Ill have an allergic attack. Make it yourself if you want it so much.
Make it myself? Margaret jumped up from her chair, which wobbled as if alive. I am not your servant! Youre the lady of the house, so cook what I say! And your allergy is just an excuse. Youre just too lazy to deal with dough!
Margaret, what does laziness have to do with this? Charlotte turned toward her mother-in-law. I cook every day, clean, do laundry. But I wont make an apple pie because I physically cant!
Cant or wont? the mother-in-law stepped closer, narrowing her eyes until they were slits in a reddening face. You think just because my son married you, you can boss me around? Well see whos really in charge here!
Keys jingled in the hallway like distant chimes William had come home. Margarets face instantly changed into a suffering expression, her features softening like melting wax.
William, son, she rushed to him. Good youre here. Your wife has gotten completely cheeky! I asked her to bake a pie, and shes rude to me, refusing!
William took off his jacket and gave his wife a tired look; she stood by the stove with a tense face that felt like it might crack.
Charlotte, whats going on? he asked, hanging his jacket in the closet that seemed deeper than usual. Why are you refusing your mother?
Im allergic to apples, William, Charlotte said quietly. I already explained it to Margaret.
Allergy? What allergy? William waved his hand, and the gesture left trails in the air. Mom, dont worry. Charlotte will bake the pie tomorrow. Right, dear?
Charlotte silently looked at her husband, then at her mother-in-law, who was smiling triumphantly as her smile stretched impossibly wide. Her heart clenched painfully with hurt, feeling like a knot tightening in her chest.
No, I wont bake it, she said firmly, taking off her apron that floated away like a ghost, and heading to the door. You can have dinner yourselves.
Charlotte went to the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Voices muffled behind the wall William and his mother were calmly having dinner, discussing some everyday matters that drifted like smoke. And she lay face down on the pillow, tears streaming down her cheeks like tiny rivers carving paths.
Behind the wall, a steady murmur of voices could be heard William was telling his mother about work, and she was nodding sympathetically. As if nothing had happened. As if his wife hadnt left upset, but simply dissolved into the air.
In the morning, Charlotte got up earlier than usual. Margaret was still asleep the house was unusually quiet, as if holding its breath. William sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, scrolling through news on his phone where the words swam like fish.
William, I need to talk to you, Charlotte sat across from him, clasping her hands that felt cold and distant. A serious talk.
He looked up from the screen, frowning in confusion, his forehead wrinkling like crumpled paper.
About what?
About your mother, Charlotte took a breath that seemed to echo in the room. Im tired of the constant nagging. Margaret criticizes everything how I cook, how I clean, what I wear. Im tired of obeying her in my own in our home.
Charlotte, what are you saying? William put down his phone, which continued to flicker. Mom behaves fine. She just has her habits.
Habits? Charlottes voice sharpened, cutting through the air. Is that what you call bossing around adults? William, maybe its time to find your mother a rented apartment? Let her live separately? Were still young we need our own space.
William slammed his cup on the saucer, the sound reverberating like a gong.
Are you suggesting to throw my mother out on the street? Metal edged his voice, sharp as blades. She asked to live with us, and you want to kick her out?
Im not saying that, Charlotte reached out to him, but he pulled away, his arm stretching unnaturally. Just a separate place. We could help with the rent
Look, I dont like this, William stood up and began getting ready for work, his movements jerky like a puppet. Mom doesnt bother anyone. On the contrary, she makes our life better cooks, helps around the house.
When does she cook? Charlotte also stood up. William, open your eyes! I work, come home, cook dinner, clean, do laundry. And your mother only criticizes!
Enough, William cut her off, putting on his jacket that seemed to swallow him. I dont want to hear this anymore. Mom stays with us. Period.
The door slammed behind him with an unpleasant metallic sound that lingered, vibrating the floor. Charlotte was left alone in the kitchen, staring at her husbands half-finished coffee. The bitterness from the conversation spread inside her like that cold drink, chilling her veins. She slowly took the cup, washed it, and set it to dry, watching the water swirl in impossible patterns.
Charlotte was irritated by this injustice. Her mother-in-law had given her apartment to her daughter. And then insisted on living with them. And William saw nothing strange in this! Charlotte was tired of living under his mothers watchful eye that seemed to follow her from every corner.
Half an hour later, Margaret appeared in the kitchen. Her hair was neatly styled, her robe buttoned up to the last button. Her face expressed extreme displeasure, the lines deepening like cracks in old wood.
Well, what a scene you made, the mother-in-law started without even greeting. So unkind! You thought my son would support you?
Charlotte silently poured herself some tea, trying not to react to the provocation as the kettle hummed a strange tune.
See? Margaret continued, sitting down at the table. My son took my side! That means he understands whos the boss here. And since thats so, you have to obey me!
Charlotte put the kettle down a bit more sharply than planned, the sound like a crack of thunder in the dream.
Today youll clean the entire apartment until it shines, the mother-in-law continued in a lecturing tone. Wash the windows, mop all the floors in every room, make the bathroom sparkle. Otherwise, you walk around here like a lady, but the house is dirty!
The house isnt dirty, Charlotte quietly objected, her voice small in the vast space.
Not dirty? Margarets voice rose, filling the room. I saw dust on the dresser in the living room yesterday! And the mirror in the hallway is smudged! If you argue, Ill complain to my son and tell him you dont listen to me!
Something inside Charlotte snapped. Like a tightly stretched string that could no longer withstand the tension, it broke with a silent twang. She turned sharply to her mother-in-law, the world tilting slightly.
No! Her voice rang with tension. I wont do it! Ive obeyed you for too long! I lost myself in all this! I cook what you order, clean when you say, stay silent when you yell! Enough!
Margaret jumped up. Her face reddened with outrage. She screamed:
How dare you? How dare you talk back to me?
Charlotte raised her voice too, the sound bouncing off invisible walls.
I dare! I am a living person, not your servant! And I will no longer tolerate your nitpicking!
If you talk back, my son will throw you out! shouted the mother-in-law, shaking her fist that appeared larger than life.
And then something inside Charlotte seemed to break loose. Years of silence, months of humiliation. It all poured out in one powerful wave that rippled through the air. She straightened to full height, her shadow growing tall behind her. Her voice sounded so strong that Margaret involuntarily stepped back, shrinking a little.
You forgot whose apartment this is! You forgot who let you live here! Who allowed you to live here without paying rent, utilities, groceries nothing! Let me remind you this is my apartment! Mine, bought before marriage. Bought before I met your son, your whole family!
Margaret froze with her mouth open, like a statue caught in time. She clearly did not expect such a turn.
But Charlotte didnt stop.
And so from this day on, you will no longer dictate terms to me! Or it wont be me who ends up on the street it will be you! Understand?
For several seconds, the mother-in-law stood as if petrified, then slowly came to herself. Her face flushed, her eyes narrowed to points.
How dare you speak to me like that? she shrieked. You have no right! I am your husbands mother! I am older than you! You must respect me!
Respect should be earned, not given by age! Charlotte did not give in. And in the past months living here, you have not earned even a drop of respect!
How dare you Margaret gasped in outrage. Who do you think you are? Im Williams mother! And youre just a temporary woman! Hell always choose me!
Then you two move out together! Charlotte cut in. And Ill stay in my apartment! The one I pay for, clean, and cook in! While youre only bossing around!
I Ill tell my son! the mother-in-law stammered. Hell find out how you treat me!
Go ahead and tell! Charlotte crossed her arms, the gesture feeling final. Just dont forget to mention that you live here for free!
Margaret turned indignantly and, loudly stomping, ran to her room. The door slammed so hard the windows rattled like bones.
A few minutes later, an agitated voice came from the room. The mother-in-law was clearly calling her son. Charlotte caught fragments: Completely cheeky insults me threatens to kick me out
Charlotte calmly finished her tea and began getting ready for work. Let Margaret complain today she spoke the truth for the first time in a long while, the words hanging in the air like banners.
In the evening, William returned home nearly furious. His face was flushed, his eyes blazing with anger like small fires. Barely crossing the threshold, he attacked his wife:
What do you think youre doing? he shouted. Mom told me everything! How dare you insult her? Threaten to kick her out of the house?
Out of my house, Charlotte corrected calmly, taking off her apron that fell like a deflated balloon. And I didnt threaten. I warned.
Out of yours? Williams voice grew louder, shaking the furniture. We are husband and wife! Whats yours is mine!
No, dear, Charlotte turned to him. This apartment was bought by me before the marriage. And I will no longer tolerate your mothers rudeness.
Mom didnt do anything wrong! William yelled. She only asked for help around the house!
She gave orders, Charlotte countered. And insulted me. And you supported her.
Of course I supported her! Shes my mother!
Then live with her, Charlotte headed for the front door and opened it wide, the outside appearing as an endless void. But not here. Pack up and leave.
Youre joking? William looked at his wife in disbelief, his form wavering.
Not at all, Charlotte pointed to the door. Youve used me enough, lived off me enough. Now decide where and how you want to live. And I choose to be happy. Without you!
Margaret ran out of the room hearing the shouting.
Whats going on? she asked, but seeing the open door, understood everything as the room seemed to contract around her.
Pack up, Charlotte repeated. You have half an hour.
Relief washed over Charlotte like a wave, cleansing the dream’s haze. She had taken the hardest step.Charlotte, bake an apple pie for dinner tomorrow, Margaret declared as she drifted into the kitchen and eased herself onto a chair that seemed to sigh under her weight. I havent had a proper pastry in a long time; youre always cooking some strange dishes.
In the dream the kitchen walls pulsed gently with each word. Charlotte turned away from the stove where she was frying sausages for dinner. Her mother-in-law sat with her usual displeased expression, adjusting her familiar burgundy sweater that appeared to tighten around her like a vine.
Im allergic to apples, Margaret, Charlotte replied calmly, flipping a sausage that sizzled as if protesting. Im not going to make it.
What do you mean youre not going to? the mother-in-laws voice sharpened, echoing oddly as if from far away. I asked you, and youre refusing me? Who do you think you are to talk back to me? In my time, daughters-in-law respected their elders!
This isnt about respect, Charlotte said, moving the pan to another burner that glowed strangely blue. If I cook apples, Ill have an allergic attack. Make it yourself if you want it so much.
Make it myself? Margaret jumped up from her chair, which wobbled as if alive. I am not your servant! Youre the lady of the house, so cook what I say! And your allergy is just an excuse. Youre just too lazy to deal with dough!
Margaret, what does laziness have to do with this? Charlotte turned toward her mother-in-law. I cook every day, clean, do laundry. But I wont make an apple pie because I physically cant!
Cant or wont? the mother-in-law stepped closer, narrowing her eyes until they were slits in a reddening face. You think just because my son married you, you can boss me around? Well see whos really in charge here!
Keys jingled in the hallway like distant chimes William had come home. Margarets face instantly changed into a suffering expression, her features softening like melting wax.
William, son, she rushed to him. Good youre here. Your wife has gotten completely cheeky! I asked her to bake a pie, and shes rude to me, refusing!
William took off his jacket and gave his wife a tired look; she stood by the stove with a tense face that felt like it might crack.
Charlotte, whats going on? he asked, hanging his jacket in the closet that seemed deeper than usual. Why are you refusing your mother?
Im allergic to apples, William, Charlotte said quietly. I already explained it to Margaret.
Allergy? What allergy? William waved his hand, and the gesture left trails in the air. Mom, dont worry. Charlotte will bake the pie tomorrow. Right, dear?
Charlotte silently looked at her husband, then at her mother-in-law, who was smiling triumphantly as her smile stretched impossibly wide. Her heart clenched painfully with hurt, feeling like a knot tightening in her chest.
No, I wont bake it, she said firmly, taking off her apron that floated away like a ghost, and heading to the door. You can have dinner yourselves.
Charlotte went to the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Voices muffled behind the wall William and his mother were calmly having dinner, discussing some everyday matters that drifted like smoke. And she lay face down on the pillow, tears streaming down her cheeks like tiny rivers carving paths.
Behind the wall, a steady murmur of voices could be heard William was telling his mother about work, and she was nodding sympathetically. As if nothing had happened. As if his wife hadnt left upset, but simply dissolved into the air.
In the morning, Charlotte got up earlier than usual. Margaret was still asleep the house was unusually quiet, as if holding its breath. William sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, scrolling through news on his phone where the words swam like fish.
William, I need to talk to you, Charlotte sat across from him, clasping her hands that felt cold and distant. A serious talk.
He looked up from the screen, frowning in confusion, his forehead wrinkling like crumpled paper.
About what?
About your mother, Charlotte took a breath that seemed to echo in the room. Im tired of the constant nagging. Margaret criticizes everything how I cook, how I clean, what I wear. Im tired of obeying her in my own in our home.
Charlotte, what are you saying? William put down his phone, which continued to flicker. Mom behaves fine. She just has her habits.
Habits? Charlottes voice sharpened, cutting through the air. Is that what you call bossing around adults? William, maybe its time to find your mother a rented apartment? Let her live separately? Were still young we need our own space.
William slammed his cup on the saucer, the sound reverberating like a gong.
Are you suggesting to throw my mother out on the street? Metal edged his voice, sharp as blades. She asked to live with us, and you want to kick her out?
Im not saying that, Charlotte reached out to him, but he pulled away, his arm stretching unnaturally. Just a separate place. We could help with the rent
Look, I dont like this, William stood up and began getting ready for work, his movements jerky like a puppet. Mom doesnt bother anyone. On the contrary, she makes our life better cooks, helps around the house.
When does she cook? Charlotte also stood up. William, open your eyes! I work, come home, cook dinner, clean, do laundry. And your mother only criticizes!
Enough, William cut her off, putting on his jacket that seemed to swallow him. I dont want to hear this anymore. Mom stays with us. Period.
The door slammed behind him with an unpleasant metallic sound that lingered, vibrating the floor. Charlotte was left alone in the kitchen, staring at her husbands half-finished coffee. The bitterness from the conversation spread inside her like that cold drink, chilling her veins. She slowly took the cup, washed it, and set it to dry, watching the water swirl in impossible patterns.
Charlotte was irritated by this injustice. Her mother-in-law had given her apartment to her daughter. And then insisted on living with them. And William saw nothing strange in this! Charlotte was tired of living under his mothers watchful eye that seemed to follow her from every corner.
Half an hour later, Margaret appeared in the kitchen. Her hair was neatly styled, her robe buttoned up to the last button. Her face expressed extreme displeasure, the lines deepening like cracks in old wood.
Well, what a scene you made, the mother-in-law started without even greeting. So unkind! You thought my son would support you?
Charlotte silently poured herself some tea, trying not to react to the provocation as the kettle hummed a strange tune.
See? Margaret continued, sitting down at the table. My son took my side! That means he understands whos the boss here. And since thats so, you have to obey me!
Charlotte put the kettle down a bit more sharply than planned, the sound like a crack of thunder in the dream.
Today youll clean the entire apartment until it shines, the mother-in-law continued in a lecturing tone. Wash the windows, mop all the floors in every room, make the bathroom sparkle. Otherwise, you walk around here like a lady, but the house is dirty!
The house isnt dirty, Charlotte quietly objected, her voice small in the vast space.
Not dirty? Margarets voice rose, filling the room. I saw dust on the dresser in the living room yesterday! And the mirror in the hallway is smudged! If you argue, Ill complain to my son and tell him you dont listen to me!
Something inside Charlotte snapped. Like a tightly stretched string that could no longer withstand the tension, it broke with a silent twang. She turned sharply to her mother-in-law, the world tilting slightly.
No! Her voice rang with tension. I wont do it! Ive obeyed you for too long! I lost myself in all this! I cook what you order, clean when you say, stay silent when you yell! Enough!
Margaret jumped up. Her face reddened with outrage. She screamed:
How dare you? How dare you talk back to me?
Charlotte raised her voice too, the sound bouncing off invisible walls.
I dare! I am a living person, not your servant! And I will no longer tolerate your nitpicking!
If you talk back, my son will throw you out! shouted the mother-in-law, shaking her fist that appeared larger than life.
And then something inside Charlotte seemed to break loose. Years of silence, months of humiliation. It all poured out in one powerful wave that rippled through the air. She straightened to full height, her shadow growing tall behind her. Her voice sounded so strong that Margaret involuntarily stepped back, shrinking a little.
You forgot whose apartment this is! You forgot who let you live here! Who allowed you to live here without paying rent, utilities, groceries nothing! Let me remind you this is my apartment! Mine, bought before marriage. Bought before I met your son, your whole family!
Margaret froze with her mouth open, like a statue caught in time. She clearly did not expect such a turn.
But Charlotte didnt stop.
And so from this day on, you will no longer dictate terms to me! Or it wont be me who ends up on the street it will be you! Understand?
For several seconds, the mother-in-law stood as if petrified, then slowly came to herself. Her face flushed, her eyes narrowed to points.
How dare you speak to me like that? she shrieked. You have no right! I am your husbands mother! I am older than you! You must respect me!
Respect should be earned, not given by age! Charlotte did not give in. And in the past months living here, you have not earned even a drop of respect!
How dare you Margaret gasped in outrage. Who do you think you are? Im Williams mother! And youre just a temporary woman! Hell always choose me!
Then you two move out together! Charlotte cut in. And Ill stay in my apartment! The one I pay for, clean, and cook in! While youre only bossing around!
I Ill tell my son! the mother-in-law stammered. Hell find out how you treat me!
Go ahead and tell! Charlotte crossed her arms, the gesture feeling final. Just dont forget to mention that you live here for free!
Margaret turned indignantly and, loudly stomping, ran to her room. The door slammed so hard the windows rattled like bones.
A few minutes later, an agitated voice came from the room. The mother-in-law was clearly calling her son. Charlotte caught fragments: Completely cheeky insults me threatens to kick me out
Charlotte calmly finished her tea and began getting ready for work. Let Margaret complain today she spoke the truth for the first time in a long while, the words hanging in the air like banners.
In the evening, William returned home nearly furious. His face was flushed, his eyes blazing with anger like small fires. Barely crossing the threshold, he attacked his wife:
What do you think youre doing? he shouted. Mom told me everything! How dare you insult her? Threaten to kick her out of the house?
Out of my house, Charlotte corrected calmly, taking off her apron that fell like a deflated balloon. And I didnt threaten. I warned.
Out of yours? Williams voice grew louder, shaking the furniture. We are husband and wife! Whats yours is mine!
No, dear, Charlotte turned to him. This apartment was bought by me before the marriage. And I will no longer tolerate your mothers rudeness.
Mom didnt do anything wrong! William yelled. She only asked for help around the house!
She gave orders, Charlotte countered. And insulted me. And you supported her.
Of course I supported her! Shes my mother!
Then live with her, Charlotte headed for the front door and opened it wide, the outside appearing as an endless void. But not here. Pack up and leave.
Youre joking? William looked at his wife in disbelief, his form wavering.
Not at all, Charlotte pointed to the door. Youve used me enough, lived off me enough. Now decide where and how you want to live. And I choose to be happy. Without you!
Margaret ran out of the room hearing the shouting.
Whats going on? she asked, but seeing the open door, understood everything as the room seemed to contract around her.
Pack up, Charlotte repeated. You have half an hour.
Relief washed over Charlotte like a wave, cleansing the dream’s haze. She had taken the hardest step.
