Chapter 2 · Broken Lamp, Unspoken Truth

Fiona's POV

Eight months after moving in, I finally told James I wanted to move out. "We could rent a smaller place. Your mom only comes once a month, and we can tidy up before she arrives."

James put down his phone. "Why? Isn't everything fine now? The house belongs to Mom, and we don't have to pay rent."

"I just want to feel a bit more at ease."

"What's making you uncomfortable? Is Mom not treating you well?"

"It's not like that..."

"Then that's it."

James picked up his phone again. I didn't say anything else.

The next day, James's aunt, Grace, showed up.

I had no clue why she came.

Grace lounged on the couch, enjoying snacks while saying, "Fiona, Margaret is so generous. She lets you guys live here without charging rent. Anyone else would've started collecting money ages ago."

I stayed quiet.

Grace went on, "James told me you're thinking about moving out?"

I glanced at James. He was out on the balcony, smoking. He didn't look at me.

Grace went on, "Move out for what? Renting outside is over 600 dollars a month. Can't you find better things to spend that money on?"

She counted it off on her fingers for me. 600 dollars for rent, 150 dollars for utilities and maintenance, and then there was the commute. "That's about 100 grand extra every year. Does that really sound worth it?"

She stared right at me.

I opened my mouth, but couldn't get any words out.

She was right. It was not worth it.

100 grand. I only made 1,500 dollars a month.

Grace added, "Honestly, what's so bad about living with family? If your mom were still around, she'd definitely say staying together keeps things simple."

My mom had passed away. Grace knew that.

I didn't know how to reply.

That day, I made a bunch of dishes and set them out.

There were four of us, but not enough tableware. I went to the kitchen to grab some. By the time I got back, the ribs were finished.

No one waited for me.

I sat down and picked up some salad.

James was chatting with Grace about home renovations, while Margaret was busy feeding the baby.

In the quiet, I chewed my salad loudly.

I was the only one chewing.

After dinner, I started clearing the dishes. When I was washing the pots, the cut on the back of my hand got hit with dish soap, and it stung like hell.

I held my hand up under the light. My band-aid was filthy.

I should change it.

Whatever. I'd check it tomorrow.

Margaret's POV

After listening to the recording, Margaret found out Fiona wanted to move out.

She heard it three hours earlier than the time James told her.

On the recording, Fiona said, "I just want my own space."

James replied, "What are you thinking?"

And that was it. They stopped talking.

Margaret spent the whole night thinking about it. 'No way. If they move out, what about that lamp?'

It wasn't really the lamp she couldn't let go of. It was the feeling of always knowing everything.

She knew who was crying, who was on the phone, who was up late, and every conversation that happened.

Knowing everything meant she was in control.

She didn't need to live here. She lived in the sounds that filled the house.

*****

Early the next morning, Margaret made two phone calls.

First, she called Grace. "Grace, could you swing by James's place today? Fiona's thinking about moving out. Maybe you can talk her out of it."

"Moving out? Why?" Grace asked.

"I don't really know. Maybe she feels awkward living with me. When you go, don't mention I sent you. Just say you were dropping by."

"Sure."

Then Margaret called James. "Grace is coming over today. When she persuades Fiona, stay out of it. Let Grace do the talking."

"Alright," James said.

"And if Fiona cries again tonight, give her a hug. Take the initiative."

"Okay, Mom."

Margaret hung up and headed out to the balcony to water her flowers.

She had a jasmine plant she doted on. She watered it, trimmed the branches, and turned the pot so it got just the right amount of sun every day.

She cared for that plant more than she cared for Fiona.

She knew it wasn't right, but that was how her mother-in-law was, too.

To Margaret, the mother-in-law should treat her daughter-in-law like a guest, and that meant keeping her distance. Keeping her distance meant she didn't have to get emotionally attached.

If she didn't get emotionally attached, she wouldn't be manipulated.

Her own mother-in-law had taught her that for twenty years, and Margaret had learned her lesson well.

*****

Grace showed up, just like Margaret expected, and said all the things Margaret wanted her to say.

On the recording that night, Fiona didn't mention moving out again.

After putting the baby to bed, she sat there under the lamp for ages.

She didn't cry.

That actually reassured Margaret more.

Crying meant there was still some fight left in her. Not crying meant she'd accepted things.

Chapter 2

Fiona's POV

Eight months after moving in, I finally told James I wanted to move out. "We could rent a smaller place. Your mom only comes once a month, and we can tidy up before she arrives."

James put down his phone. "Why? Isn't everything fine now? The house belongs to Mom, and we don't have to pay rent."

"I just want to feel a bit more at ease."

"What's making you uncomfortable? Is Mom not treating you well?"

"It's not like that..."

"Then that's it."

James picked up his phone again. I didn't say anything else.

The next day, James's aunt, Grace, showed up.

I had no clue why she came.

Grace lounged on the couch, enjoying snacks while saying, "Fiona, Margaret is so generous. She lets you guys live here without charging rent. Anyone else would've started collecting money ages ago."

I stayed quiet.

Grace went on, "James told me you're thinking about moving out?"

I glanced at James. He was out on the balcony, smoking. He didn't look at me.

Grace went on, "Move out for what? Renting outside is over 600 dollars a month. Can't you find better things to spend that money on?"

She stared right at me.

I opened my mouth, but couldn't get any words out.

She was right. It was not worth it.

100 grand. I only made 1,500 dollars a month.

Grace added, "Honestly, what's so bad about living with family? If your mom were still around, she'd definitely say staying together keeps things simple."

My mom had passed away. Grace knew that.

I didn't know how to reply.

That day, I made a bunch of dishes and set them out.

There were four of us, but not enough tableware. I went to the kitchen to grab some. By the time I got back, the ribs were finished.

No one waited for me.

I sat down and picked up some salad.

James was chatting with Grace about home renovations, while Margaret was busy feeding the baby.

In the quiet, I chewed my salad loudly.

I was the only one chewing.

After dinner, I started clearing the dishes. When I was washing the pots, the cut on the back of my hand got hit with dish soap, and it stung like hell.

I held my hand up under the light. My band-aid was filthy.

I should change it.

Whatever. I'd check it tomorrow.

Margaret's POV

After listening to the recording, Margaret found out Fiona wanted to move out.

She heard it three hours earlier than the time James told her.

On the recording, Fiona said, "I just want my own space."

James replied, "What are you thinking?"

And that was it. They stopped talking.

Margaret spent the whole night thinking about it. 'No way. If they move out, what about that lamp?'

It wasn't really the lamp she couldn't let go of. It was the feeling of always knowing everything.

She knew who was crying, who was on the phone, who was up late, and every conversation that happened.

Knowing everything meant she was in control.

She didn't need to live here. She lived in the sounds that filled the house.

*****

Early the next morning, Margaret made two phone calls.

First, she called Grace. "Grace, could you swing by James's place today? Fiona's thinking about moving out. Maybe you can talk her out of it."

"Moving out? Why?" Grace asked.

"I don't really know. Maybe she feels awkward living with me. When you go, don't mention I sent you. Just say you were dropping by."

"Sure."

Then Margaret called James. "Grace is coming over today. When she persuades Fiona, stay out of it. Let Grace do the talking."

"Alright," James said.

"And if Fiona cries again tonight, give her a hug. Take the initiative."

"Okay, Mom."

Margaret hung up and headed out to the balcony to water her flowers.

She had a jasmine plant she doted on. She watered it, trimmed the branches, and turned the pot so it got just the right amount of sun every day.

She cared for that plant more than she cared for Fiona.

She knew it wasn't right, but that was how her mother-in-law was, too.

To Margaret, the mother-in-law should treat her daughter-in-law like a guest, and that meant keeping her distance. Keeping her distance meant she didn't have to get emotionally attached.

If she didn't get emotionally attached, she wouldn't be manipulated.

Her own mother-in-law had taught her that for twenty years, and Margaret had learned her lesson well.

*****

Grace showed up, just like Margaret expected, and said all the things Margaret wanted her to say.

On the recording that night, Fiona didn't mention moving out again.

After putting the baby to bed, she sat there under the lamp for ages.

She didn't cry.

That actually reassured Margaret more.

Crying meant there was still some fight left in her. Not crying meant she'd accepted things.