As she put her wallet and phone into her bag, she paused with her keys in her hand. On a sudden impulse, she decided not to take the spare set with the owl keychain her grandmother had given her. Thinking she might invite Mike back to her place later, and knowing he didn’t have his own set yet, she tucked the main set into her purse pocket.
At exactly 2:00 PM, Mike buzzed her door. When she got to the car, his smile looked more like a nervous twitch. The drive to the older part of town was spent in a heavy silence, broken only by Mike fidgeting with the radio.
Laura wanted to ask what he was so afraid of, but she decided to let him speak first. They eventually pulled up to a tired-looking brick apartment complex where Eleanor lived. The elevator was indeed “out of order,” so they climbed four flights of concrete stairs.
The hallway smelled of old cooking and dampness. As soon as Mike knocked, the door flew open, as if Eleanor had been standing right behind it. A stout woman in her late sixties stood there, wearing a faded housecoat and worn-out slippers.
Her grey hair was pulled into a tight bun, and her face was set in a permanent scowl. She gave Laura a cold, calculating look that made Laura’s stomach turn. Grunting a vague invitation to come in, the woman immediately disappeared into the kitchen.
Stepping inside, Laura winced at the smell of stale laundry and cat litter. The narrow entryway was blocked by a massive, outdated wardrobe, and shoes were scattered everywhere. Mike gestured for Laura to follow him into the small living room.
Laura sat on the edge of a stiff wooden chair. The room was packed with heavy, antique furniture. In the center was a table covered in a cheap plastic cloth, holding a plate of dry cookies and a tea set. The whole place felt suffocating and stagnant.
Mike sat next to her, fidgeting and refusing to meet her eyes. Soon, Eleanor appeared with a teapot, slammed it onto the table, and sat directly across from Laura.
After pouring the tea, Eleanor subjected Laura to a silent, intense inspection. Finally, she bluntly demanded to know exactly what Laura did for a living and how much she earned. The question was so rude that Laura nearly choked on her tea, but she kept her composure.
Laura politely explained her role in tech and mentioned she was well-compensated. Eleanor wasn’t satisfied and demanded a specific number. Laura tensed up, but Mike jumped in, asking his mother to “take it easy.”
Eleanor snapped back, saying she had a right to know the “financial prospects” of her only son’s future wife. When she didn’t get a dollar amount, she pivoted to Laura’s parents. Learning they were in Iowa, she immediately asked if Laura had to “send money home” to support them.
Laura felt her temper rising but coldly stated that her family’s finances were private. Eleanor huffed, clearly assuming the worst, and moved on to the condo. This time, Mike piped up, eagerly sharing details about the three-bedroom unit downtown.
Eleanor’s eyes lit up with greed at the mention of the property. She began asking if the mortgage was paid off or if it was a gift. Hearing it was an inheritance, Eleanor gave a meaningful “Ah” and exchanged a quick, knowing look with Mike.
The woman then declared that Laura was “lucky” to have found a hardworking man like Mike who “deserved a nice home.” Laura stayed silent, while Mike pretended to be very interested in his cookie. Then, Eleanor launched into a lecture about how a “real family” shares everything and lives by the principle of “what’s yours is ours.”
The rest of the visit felt like an interrogation: wedding dates, plans for children, and more questions about the condo. Every word felt like a trap. After exactly an hour of psychological pressure, Laura stood up and announced it was time to leave.
As they walked to the door, Eleanor made a sour face but gave a fake invitation to “come back soon.” Once they were back in the car, Laura let out a long, shaky breath.
Mike started the engine and looked at her with a guilty, puppy-dog expression. He tried to excuse his mother’s behavior, blaming her age and “directness.” Laura sarcastically asked if “directness” was the new word for “interrogation.”
Mike started rambling about “motherly concern” and her “hopes for his future.” Laura didn’t answer and stayed silent the whole way home. When they pulled up to her building, she got out without even saying goodbye.
Once inside her sanctuary, Laura collapsed onto her sofa. She couldn’t stop thinking about the tea party and the strange, hopeful look in Mike’s eyes. It was obvious that the whole afternoon had been a setup for something bigger.
She pulled out her phone and texted Jennifer about the nightmare meeting. Jennifer replied instantly: “Run, don’t walk. Get out now.” Laura gave a bitter laugh, but before she could reply, her phone rang.
It was Eleanor. Laura hit “decline.” A few minutes later, it rang again. Declined. Then came a text from Mike, begging her to “be reasonable” and just listen to his mother…
