She cant stay here, shes nothing to us, I overheard my husbands daughter telling her brother loudly, insisting I should be kicked out of the house Id lived in for the last 15 years.
Wait, Marina. Its not that simple. Wheres Aunt Tamara supposed to go? said George, my husbands son, who Id always thought was kinder and more decent than his sister. Over 15 years of living with my husband, Id learned a thing or two.
My husband had passed away recently, and his children from his first marriage swooped in to handle the inheritance. It wasnt a small estatea countryside house, a garden, a garage, and a car.
I wasnt making any big claims, but honestly, I never thought theyd try to push me out so quickly.
Paul and I met later in life, both of us with failed marriages behind us and grown children. I had two daughters, and he had a son and a daughter.
Id just turned 50 and had married off my eldest daughter. Shed moved her husband in, and my younger daughter was still unmarried. Our flat was cramped, and I had no idea how wed manage.
Then I met Paul, who was five years older and had been living alone for years. His children were grown, married, and settledhed helped them out financially when he was still working in management and earning well.
Long story short, Paul didnt waste time. He asked me to move in with him straight away. I thought it over and decided, why not? He was a good man, treated me well, and we got on brilliantly.
I moved into his countryside home. We made a good life togetherhe had a vegetable patch, chickens, rabbits, and at one point, we even kept a cow and a pig.
The kids visited oftenmine and hisand we always welcomed them warmly, never letting them leave empty-handed. Wed pack bags full of homegrown food for them.
Paul and I never officially married. Wed talked about it at first, but as time went on, we decided a piece of paper didnt matter much at our age.
Those 15 years were wonderful, and I dont regret a single day.
In that time, my younger daughter got married too. She and her sister nearly came to blows over who should keep the flat. The eldest, already settled there, refused to share or let her sister move in with her husband. In the end, she and her husband paid off the younger one, and that was thator so it seemed.
But then, a year ago, my younger daughter divorced and moved back home with her child. The eldest wasnt thrilled, and the arguments started all over again.
Id hoped shed reconcile with her husband, but so far, nothing.
Now, with Paul gone, Id have to return to my flat. But I know its already overcrowded.
Aunt Tamara, if you want, you can stay here until we find a buyer, George offered the next morning.
I was relieved at his kindnessuntil Marina stepped in and clarified the terms: I could stay, but only if I kept up the house and garden alone.
So now Id be their unpaid labourer, just so I wouldnt have to pay rent?
I didnt like the idea. Running a house in the countryside means hard worktending the garden, looking after animalsand Im not young anymore. Im 65.
Now Im stuck. Do I stay here, working for my stepchildren wholl throw me out the second they sell the house? Or do I go back to my flatwhich, by the way, is still legally mineonly to feel like a burden there too?
What should I do? Maybe its easier to see the answer from the outside.
