People believe you don’t know someone unless they live with you. Verna, my mother-in-law, believed she had me when she accused me of lying to Owen. She didn’t realize her “evidence” was bait, and she showed everyone what I wanted.
After Verna came in, I tried to be optimistic. “It’s just for a bit,” Owen added. “She’ll help, maybe ease us.”
I smiled but doubted. Verna was blunt. She loved control and knowledge. The first few days were fine—she unpacked, made tea, and told me the same tales. She was kind. Too nice.
Then I noticed. The closet felt strange. Sweaters layered differently. My perfectly folded jeans were off. My perfume bottle moved a few inches.
“That’s weird,” I observed one morning, glancing at it.
Owen looked up from his phone. “What?”
“Our room was invaded.”
He frowned. “You mean what?”
“My stuff moved. Not much, just different.”
He chuckled. “Probably you. Or the cat?
We have no cat.”
“Yes.”
I crossed arms. Owen, I’m serious. My earrings were changed yesterday. Now, my perfume.”
Raised eyebrow. Do you suppose my mom’s spying?
“No idea. I feel like someone is touching my stuff.”
“She’d never do that,” he replied.
“You don’t know.”
“She’s my mom, not a spy.”
Dropped it. Arguing was pointless. My intuition told me Verna was spying.
Tracking began. My bedside drawer was misaligned, so my hand lotion slid right and left. Another day, my closet smelled like Verna’s rose hand cream. I spotted her silver hair on a cardigan I hadn’t worn in weeks. I wanted to shout.
What might I do? Without evidence, I couldn’t accuse her. A bedroom camera? Owen would despise it, and I didn’t want to be him. So I watched. Waited.
Every time I left the room, I worried whether she was looking. I attempted shutting the door, but she “needed a towel” and knocked for five minutes. It seemed like someone else was in my space.
I told Owen again at night. “She’s going through my stuff. I’m sure.”
Exhausted, he sighed. Why would Lila? What’s she seeking?
“No idea. Maybe she’s bored. Maybe she dislikes me.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Something’s off.”
Rather than respond, he turned over. I peered at the ceiling, hands clinched beneath the blanket. If I couldn’t capture her, I’d lure her.
I found an old blue diary with a broken lock the following morning. Years have passed since I used it. I scribbled slowly and carefully on the bed: “Lately, I feel so alone. Like Mark no longer sees me. Loves his mom more than me. Not sure how long I can bear this. I’m considering leaving. But I haven’t told anyone.”
After the ink dried, I wrapped the diary in a scarf and hid it in the closet beneath winter jackets and a shoebox. No one would locate it without digging. “Let’s see if you bite,” I murmured.
It worked quicker than expected. Verna struck at dinner three days later. After Owen grilled steaks, his cousin Reid brought champagne, and I cooked green bean casserole. Kitchen smelt like rosemary and garlic. Everyone laughed, passed food, clinked drinks.
Verna sat quietly at the table’s end, checking me out. She suddenly banged her fork. “We need to stop pretending,” she replied sharply.
Room got quiet. Even the dog ceased under-table gnawing.
Owen blinks. “Mom? What’s up?”
She sat higher, lips taut. “Maybe we should talk about your wife hiding something before we play happy family.”
I kept my cool—I knew it was coming. Water was sipped slowly. “Owen,” Verna suggested, “check her closet. Where she hides secrets.”
I put my glass down. Verna, what secrets?
Her tone became harder. Do not act stupid. In your journal, you declare you’ll leave him. Divorce him.”
Table gasps rippled. Owen became pallid. Lila, is that true?
I looked calmly at Verna. So how did you know about that diary?
Her mouth opened and closed. “Well—I was just—”
“What?” I requested. Looking for towels? Fun closet digging?”
“It fell out,” she mumbled. “I wasn’t—”
Wasn’t snooping? Leaning forward. ‘Cause you just confessed reading something else’
She sputtered. “I thought Owen deserved to know—”
“That diary was fake,” I interrupted.
She froze.
“I wrote it as a trap,” I said. Hide it someplace no one should have seen. You confirmed what I already knew in front of everyone.”
Owen was dumbfounded. You planted it?
“I had to,” I replied. “She went through my stuff. I wanted proof.”
Reid coughed uncomfortably. His wife Sienna gasped, “Oh my God.”
Verna flushed. That’s unfair. You duped me.”
I grinned. “Next time, don’t dig unless excited to find a trap.”
Rest of supper was calm. Forks scraped plates. Glasses clinked gently. None talked, not even Reid, who normally joked to calm tension. Sienna stared at Verna and me but said nothing.
Verna stared at her napkin like it held all the answers, scarcely eating. Owen plucked at his meal out of habit, not hunger. A peaceful weight replaced my hunger. The trap worked.
Owen stayed in the kitchen after curt goodbyes and hasty dishwashing. As I rinsed a dish, he leaned against the counter, looking at the floor.
“I didn’t believe you,” he whispered.
“I know,” I answered.
‘She actually went through your stuff?
“Multiple times.”
Sighing, he scratched his forehead. “I know nothing to say.”
“You don’t have to,” I responded, stacking the final plate. “I just needed you to see it.”
He murmured, “I’m sorry,” looking at me. I shoulda listened. Her doing that surprised me.”
“She crossed a line,” I stated steadily. I was exhausted, not furious.
He nodded. “Yeah. She did.”
I closed our bedroom door upstairs. Finally, it felt mine after weeks. No lost perfume. No muddled sweaters. Drawers feel ok. I had my own area and peaceful air. Honest.
Later, I saw Verna in the hall. Left the guest bathroom with eyes down and shoulders bowed. After seeing me, she glanced away. Both of us were silent. She understood, and that was enough.
