Descend to the Ground

Mom, can you imagine if I got into Oxford? Their linguistics department is topnotch; Ive read on forums that graduates end up at the UN, even in embassies

Evelyn snapped off the cucumber slices and stared at her daughter as if shed just suggested they start dancing on the kitchen table.

Ethel, what are you talking about? Oxford? she snorted, returning to her salad. Theres a flood of clever people there. Get back on solid ground! Youll crawl back here, and the spots at a decent university will already be taken.

But my grades

Grades, grades, Evelyn waved the knife. Be glad theres somewhere to go at all. Youll be right beside me, no need to scramble into strangers corners.

Ethel fell silent, staring out the window. Her mother had always warned her against dreaming too big. Shed checked her Alevel results behind a locked door: 94 in English, 91 in French, 89 in History. She read the numbers three times, convinced herself shed mistyped them. Then she slumped onto the pillow and stared at the crack in the ceiling, which looked like the border of some unknown country. Her mind felt oddly empty and ringing at once. She was one of the best pupils in the district; with scores like that she could get into anywhere.

Anywhere

That evening she scrolled through university websites until three in the morning, flipping through programmes, reading reviews, comparing entry thresholds. When she landed on Oxfords page, with its stone façade and a description of the Faculty of Modern Languages, something clicked inside her like a lock finally turning.

This is it. This is where I need to be.

But her mother wasnt having it.

Dont even think about it! her mother shrieked, her voice cracking. Oxford? Are you trying to leave me here all alone?

Evelyn darted around the kitchen, clutching the edge of the table, then the back of a chair.

Mom, Im not abandoning you

Abandoning! Traitor! I raised you, devoted my life to you, and now you

The drama replayed daily.

Ethel stopped sleeping properly. Dark circles settled under her eyes, her appetite vanished. She floated around the twobed flat like a spectre, trying not to be seen by her mother, which was impossible the flat was far too small to hide in.

Irene, thats enough, Aunt Marian, Evelyns younger sister, said when she dropped by for the weekend, catching another act of the tragedy. Shes a bright girl. Let her go, let her study. This is her future!

My future is to stay here alone? Evelyn snapped.

Youre fortythree, you still have your whole life ahead. And Ethel isnt your caregiver! She has her own life!

Grandma, stooped and quiet, rocked her head in the corner.

Irene, let the girl go. Youll end up biting your own elbows for not giving her a chance at something bigger.

Irene ignored them. In her head a plan fermented. A few days later Ethel rummaged through every drawer, every cupboard. Her passport, birth certificate, and school certificates vanished.

Mom! Where are my documents?

Irene, perched before the telly with a triumphant grin, replied, Where you cant reach them. I wont sign anything, understand? Youre seventeen; you wont go anywhere without my okay.

Ethel sank onto a chair, a single thought pounding in her skull: the application deadline was a week away, and she had neither papers nor her mothers signature.

She called the university; a polite voice told her that under18 applicants needed consent from a legal guardian, no exceptions. She called a legal helpline; the adviser confirmed that until she turned eighteen, her mother could decide her fate.

Aunt Marian tried twice more to reason with Evelyn, but it was useless. Evelyn clutched her daughter as if her grip could keep her own life together.

Three days before the deadline, Ethel gave up. She and her mother drove to the local college a drab building on the towns edge, plaster peeling like wilted cheese, a sign with letters that leaned more than a drunken sailor.

The admissions office reeked of dust and hopelessness. A woman behind the desk took the papers without looking up, muttering about timetables. Ethel stepped out onto the grimy porch and stared at the grey pavement. Inside felt empty, burnt out.

There, see? Nice and cosy, her mother beamed. Youll stay right by me. No need to run off and show off.

The first months of study turned into a peculiar torture. Lecturers read from yellowed notes from twenty years ago, students glued to their phones, and the firstfloor toilet lock hadnt worked for at least five years, according to rumor.

Ethel dragged herself to lectures, then started skipping.

Where have you disappeared to? asked her only friendly classmate, Julia, catching up with her in the hallway.

To the library.

It was true. The town library became her refuge, where shed spend hours buried in grammar, phonetics, cultural studies books. She was preparing, though she didnt even know what for yet.

Her eighteenth birthday fell on a bleak November Tuesday. Her mother baked a cake, invited the neighbour, and Ethel dutifully blew out the candles, ate a slice, then retreated to her room.

The next morning she marched to the deans office.

Id like to submit a voluntary withdrawal, she placed the slip on the desk.

The secretary raised an eyebrow, said nothing shed seen worse.

Back home Ethel retrieved her hidden documents from behind the wardrobe her mother had handed them over as soon as shed enrolled: passport, certificates, birth certificate, all in place.

What are you doing? her mothers voice boomed.

Evelyn froze in the doorway.

Im leaving. To Oxford.

What? Again? I forbid you!

Im eighteen now. You no longer get to tell me how to live.

Irenes face flushed with anger.

You ungrateful child! After everything Ive done for you

Ill call you when Ive got a job, Ethel zipped her bag and walked out, leaving the flat and its invisible cage behind.

Aunt Marian waited at the bus station.

Here, she handed Ethel an envelope. I kept some cash for you to get started.

Ethel tried to protest, but Marian waved her off.

Be quiet. Youve earned this. Dont give up, okay? Whatever happens, dont give up.

The earlymorning bus to Oxford left at six. Ethel watched the grey terraced houses of her hometown melt into the mist. She didnt cry; there were no tears, just a ringing sense of finally breathing fully.

Her new flat was a tiny room bed, desk, chair, and nothing else. She found a job three days later as a waitress in a café. Twelvehour shifts left her legs buzzing by night, the smell of fried onions clinging to her hair forever. The wages barely covered rent, food, and most importantly textbooks.

A year passed in a hectic rhythm: mornings spent sleeping in, afternoons on the shop floor, evenings with notes, tests, listening exercises. She lived on the edge of hunger, literally eating leftovers from the café kitchen for lunch and tea with stale bread for dinner. She dropped six kilos, nearly fainted in the dining room once, and the manager sent her home to eat properly.

But she kept moving forward. Her dream was alive, and surrender wasnt an option. In the summer she sent her application again same university, same faculty. The entry threshold was high, but her scores were higher.

The admission list went up in August. Ethel stood before the notice board, heart thudding in her throat, scanning for her surname.

There it was.

A funded place.

She sank onto the stone steps of the old building, vaulted ceilings and stained glass around her. Passersby glanced, but she didnt care.

Shed done it.

Five years flew by like one long, packed day. She never returned to her hometown, ignored her mothers New Year and birthday invitations. Evelyn called less and less; their conversations began with complaints and ended in accusations. Ethel would answer yeah, right, mum and hang up.

She returned to her own life.

In June she walked out of the university holding her red diploma, stopped on the riverside promenade.

A job offer was already waiting in her inbox an international translation firm, a salary shed never dared to imagine.

Her phone buzzed. Mum

Yes, love?

Mom, I just got my degree. I have a job in Oxford. Im not coming back.

A pause, then a sob.

Youve abandoned me! I knew it! Youre so ungrateful

Goodbye, Mum. Ill call in a few months.

She hung up, stared at the grey water glimmering in the sunrise, a distant riverboat humming.

Ethel smiled to herself, quietly. She hadnt let anyone break her. Shed made it.