Didn’t Attend the Milestone Celebration for My Mother-in-Law

Ethel, have you gone mad? Your temperature is forty degrees!

Megan clutched Ethels shoulders, trying to push her back onto the sofa. Ethel, stubborn, tugged at her coat even though her hands trembled so much they barely slipped into the sleeves.

Leave me be, Megan! I have to get to work! My report is burning!

Which report? You can barely stand! Call your boss and say youre ill!

I cant! Ive already taken two sick days this month. Theyll sack me!

Megan snatched the coat from Ethel and flung it onto the armchair.

Sit down at once! Ill call a doctor!

Ethel collapsed onto the sofa, completely drained. Her head spun, vision blurred. She was an accountant at a tiny firm; the pay was modest, but losing the job would mean nothing left at the end of the month.

Ive phoned Thomas, Megan said, dialing the number of Ethels husband. Let him come and fetch you.

No, hes in a meeting!

Forget his meeting! My wife is dying and hes sitting in a conference!

Thomas arrived half an hour later, helped Ethel to bed, and summoned a doctor. The doctor prescribed antibiotics and strict bedrest.

Youll be in bed for a week. No work.

But I

No buts. Forty degrees isnt a joke. One more tick and youll end up in hospital.

When the doctor left, Thomas sank onto the edge of the bed.

Ethel, why didnt you say you were ill sooner?

Work

Work can wait. Health comes first.

Ethel closed her eyes, exhausted. Work, house, cooking, cleaning everything rested on her. Thomas helped little, always saying he was worn out at his own job.

The phone buzzed. A message from motherinlaw Miriam Whitfield: Ethel, dont forget my anniversary in two days. I expect you at two oclock. Dont be late.

Ethel winced. The anniversary sixty years. Miriam had booked a grand celebration at a fancy London restaurant, inviting relatives, friends, colleagues.

Thomas, Mums text.

Ah, the anniversary. You remember?

Yes, but Im ill. I cant go.

Thomas frowned.

How can you not? Its my mothers special day!

My temperatures high! The doctor said a week in bed!

Itll subside in two days. Take a painkiller and well go.

Im seriously sick!

Mum will be hurt! You know how she is!

Ethel knew Miriam: a domineering, quicktotake offense woman who threw tantrums if anything strayed from her plans, and who never showed much kindness to a daughterinlaw. She thought Thomas could find a better wife.

Let her be angry. I physically cant.

Ethel, try harder! For me!

Im on my deathbed! And you speak of an anniversary!

Dont exaggerate. Its just a cold!

Ethel turned to the wall, refusing to speak. Thomas slipped into the kitchen, calling his mother.

Mum, hi Yes, weve got a problem. Ethel is seriously ill, high fever Im not sure she can make it Please, dont shout

He returned, looking guilty.

Mum says if you dont come she wont want to see you again.

Great, I dont want to see her anyway.

Ethel!

What? Im sick! Shes issuing ultimatums!

Shes upset. Its her anniversary, an important day.

For her, not for me.

Thomas sat, rubbing his face.

Fine. Ill go alone and tell her youre very ill. Shell understand.

Shell think youre making it up!

Let her think what she will. The important thing is you protect your health.

Ethel looked at Thomas with a flicker of gratitude.

The next morning her fever dipped to thirtyeight. She managed to shuffle to the kitchen and simmer a broth. She felt weak, but at least her head stopped spinning.

Megan called.

How are you?

Better. Fevers down.

Good heavens. Are you going to work tomorrow?

No, the doctor gave me a weeks sick leave.

Right then. Rest properly.

What about the anniversary?

Thomas wants me to go.

With a fever? Hes lost his mind.

He says Mum will be hurt.

And he doesnt care about your health?

Apparently.

Megan fell silent.

Do you really want to go, or stay home?

Ill stay. No strength left.

Good. Let him go alone. Let Mum throw a tantrum; youre not at fault.

Ethel knew Megan was right, yet the anxiety lingered. Miriam could silence her for months, turning Thomas against her.

That evening Thomas came home with a bouquet.

Got these for Mum tomorrow.

Beautiful.

Ethel, youre definitely not going?

Definitely not.

Thomas sighed.

Ill tell her youre seriously ill.

Thanks.

But shell still be angry, you know.

I know.

The next day her fever climbed to thirtynine. She took a pill, slid back into bed, unable to lift a foot. Thomas prepared for the anniversary, polishing his shoes.

Are you sure youll be okay alone?

Ill manage.

Call if anything.

I will.

When Thomas left, a wave of relief washed over Ethel. No need to face anyone, no forced smiles, just the quiet of her own room.

Megan rang again.

Stuck at home?

Yes. Thomas left alone.

What about your motherinlaw?

Thomas promised to explain.

Shell just blame me, as always.

Ethel smirked. Megan was right: the motherinlaw loved her son and despised the daughterinlaw, nitpicking every soup, every shirt, every speck of dust.

The phone rang. It was Miriam.

Hello, Ethel?

Yes, good morning.

Thomas told me youre ill and wont come.

Thats right, I have a high fever.

A heavy pause.

So on the day of my sixtieth you choose to stay in bed?

Im seriously sick!

Everyone gets sick, dear, but they still find the strength for important events.

I havent.

Fair enough. Thank you for your honesty. Now I know exactly what you think of me.

The line clicked off. Ethel clenched the receiver, a storm of hurt and anger rising.

Megan called an hour later.

How did Mum sound?

Shes angry.

Let her be. Shes done it before.

Im scared Thomas will side with her now.

Has he ever sided with you?

Ethel thought. Thomas had always leaned toward his mother, even when she was plainly wrong.

That night Thomas returned from the celebration, his eyes hollow. He sat on the edge of the bed.

How are you?

Same fever.

I see.

A pause.

Mum was devastated I wasnt there.

I know.

Did you feel she was right?

My health mattered more.

He stared at the wall.

Ethel, shall we keep living like this? Silent, avoiding each other?

What about us? About what happened?

I was ill, you said I could try harder.

I couldnt physically.

He rose.

Fine, lets stop. Im tired of this.

What? Youre leaving?

Yes.

Ethel felt a strange mix of grief and relief.

The next day Megan phoned.

Ethel, do you think you and Thomas are over?

Yes. He doesnt talk to me. Its all because of the anniversary.

Do you really need a husband like that?

I dont know. He used to be kind.

He changed when his mother started meddling.

Probably.

Megan was silent.

Maybe you should apologise to Mum? Go see her?

For what? I did nothing wrong!

I know, but maybe itll smooth things over.

Ethel considered it, the thought of a futile peace.

She gathered herself and walked to Miriams tiny flat on the outskirts of Manchester. She knocked, the door opened to Miriams cold stare.

Ah, you. What do you want?

Good morning, Mrs. Whitfield. Im here to apologise.

For what?

For not attending your anniversary.

Miriam smirked.

Isnt it a little late?

I was ill. Seriously ill. I couldnt get out of bed.

Excuses.

It wasnt an excuse! My temperature was forty!

Ethel, Ive lived sixty years. I can tell when someone truly cant come and when they simply dont want to. You didnt want to.

Ethel felt a fire ignite inside.

So youve never loved me. You endured me only for Thomas. And now youll keep despising me.

Thats not true!

It is. Im fed up pretending were one family. Im done with your sour face at gatherings.

Ethel stood.

Fine. I have nothing left to do here.

Exactly. Leave and never return.

She turned and fled down the stairs, tears breaking free. She had come to mend, only to be drenched in poison.

At home she told Thomas.

I went to see your mother to apologise.

And?

She kicked me out.

You must have said something wrong.

I merely apologised! She started blaming me for everything!

Mum cant accuse without reason.

Maybe she can!

Thomas was quiet.

You know what, Ethel? Lets divorce.

Ethel froze.

What?

Divorce. Were clearly not meant for each other.

Because I didnt go to the anniversary?

Not just that. You never respected her.

I didnt respect her? She just threw me out, called me liar!

Probably deserved it.

Ethel grabbed her bag.

You dont have to divorce. Ill leave. Live with your mother. Shes clearly more important than a wife.

Dont make a scene!

This isnt a scene! Its the realization that I wasted five years on you!

She walked out and headed to Megans flat.

Megan opened the door, saw Ethels wet eyes, and pulled her inside.

What happened?

We split.

How?

He suggested divorce. I agreed.

Megan hugged her.

Good riddance. He didnt deserve you.

I poured years into him! Loved, cared for him!

And he chose his mum. Thats his choice.

Ethel sobbed through the night. Megan brewed tea, promised things would get better.

A week later Thomas didnt call. Ethel stayed with Megan, returned to work, evenings spent strolling the city.

One afternoon Megan said, Maybe its for the best. Youre free now. You can live for yourself.

Probably.

Youll find a decent man who values you, not his mother.

Im not looking for men now. I just want to rest.

Rest, youve earned it.

Weeks later Thomas called.

Ethel, we need to talk about the divorce.

When?

Tomorrow after work, at the café on Baker Street.

They met, sitting opposite each other.

So were divorcing?

Yes. Itll be better for everyone.

For your mother, definitely.

Thomas winced.

Ethel, stop.

What, stop speaking the truth? You chose her over me.

I didnt choose! I just realized were different.

Different. I respect my parents, but I wont let them govern my life. Youre a mothers boy.

Thomas stood.

Well handle the paperwork through solicitors.

Leave.

When he left, Ethel weptnot from sorrow, but from release. At last it was over.

The divorce was swift; there were hardly any assets to split. She collected her few belongings, and Thomas stayed in their flat.

She rented a small studio, landed a betterpaid job, joined a gym, started meeting friends, traveling when she could.

Megan beamed.

See? Youre blooming!

Yes, I feel so much better.

Did Thomas ever call again?

No, and I dont need him.

Six months later Ethel met a new man, Alex Turner, a divorced engineer with no children. They dated, went to the cinema, to cafés, to the theatre. Alex was attentive, never mentioning his mother every five minutes.

My mum lives up north, visits once a year. We talk on the phone, but she doesnt interfere.

Thats sensible, Ethel nodded.

How are your parents?

Theyre supportive, not overbearing.

Perfect.

A year later they married modestly, with only close family and friends. Alexs mother liked Ethel, kindly, never meddling.

Live as you wish, she said, smiling. Just be happy.

Ethel finally felt content, for the first time in years.

One day on the street she saw Thomas walking handinhand with a young woman, Oksana.

Ethel? Hi!

Hello.

How are you?

Great. Im married now.

Congratulations! This is Oksana, my girlfriend.

Nice to meet you.

They chatted briefly, then went their separate ways.

Later Megan asked, How do you feel? Miss him?

No, not at all. Im glad everything turned out this way.

Exactly. You deserve happiness.

Ethel smiled. She truly did.

It had all started with that anniversary she didnt attend. In the dreamlike swirl of fever and family pressure, she thought her world was ending. Instead, it became the doorway to a new, brighter life.

Sometimes you must say no, even if it hurts someone else. Your health and dignity outweigh any expectation.

Megan once said, That anniversary was the best thing that ever happened to you.

Why?

Because it forced you to put yourself first. That was the beginning of your freedom.

Ethel reflected, grateful for the strange, surreal path that led her away from a toxic motherinlaw and a sonloving husband, toward a life of her own choosing.