My husband – James – and I have been married for nigh on a decade. My Mother In-Law – Jasmine – has had it in for me from day one and her feelings have barely softened in almost a decade.
She made it pretty clear not long after meeting me for the first time that I wasn’t good enough for James, stating to her son that I was the kind of ‘pretty girl’ who was just after money. James laughingly said that I would have to ‘win her over’ and I initially tried to take this with good humor.
I come from fairly humble beginnings but I have worked hard all my life and I now make a good living in the executive end of the cosmetics industry. My successes have never cut it with Jasmine however.
James’ family are all legal professionals in some form or other and they have amassed a formidable empire. I love James because he is kind, strong and generally doesn’t behave like someone with a small fortune to his name.
James’ Father is one of those men who has been gradually beaten into submission by his dragon-lady of a wife and therefore says very little in my defense or otherwise.
One of Jasmine’s favorite pass-times is ‘popping in’ unannounced. She often brings with her little things that she says I ‘might have overlooked buying’; things like – you know – soap?!
She will often send a house cleaner through at her own expense to ‘pick up the slack’ (yes this an actual quote) and she often wears the expression of someone who has just stepped in ‘doggy doo-doo’ when she walks into our house – and thanks to James’ income our house is very respectable indeed.
She treats me like I’m very stupid and – get this – brings dinner for her little boy at least three times a week. I heard her say (whilst eavesdropping on a phone conversation one night) that I ‘couldn’t cook to save myself’ and at that point I fumed.
The worst thing about her making dinner for James is that 2 out of 3 times she stays to eat with us. In the past, whilst we were all having diner she would take the opportunity to reminisce with her boy about ‘the good times’ i.e.: the period before I entered the scene.
She would list all the relatives she could think of, laughing about all the funny and witty things they would say and then use these examples as a way of denigrating me. For example ‘Uncle Jo Jo was such a card, he would always have a hilarious response for any insult anyone could throw at him – maybe you should write some of these down Harriet (this is not my name but a ‘pet name’ Jasmine had given me). It couldn’t hurt to sound sharp once in a while.’
I had become so tired of being put down. James would always stick up for Mummy whenever I aired my feelings so of course I felt utterly alone. I didn’t want to confront Jasmine as a) she is a very domineering character and I’m a wallflower and b) James has always been protective of his Mother and it would almost certainly cause a rift between us.
My parents were miles away across the other side of the country so although they tried to empathise with me it just wasn’t the same as having someone there with me, someone to be on my side.
One Friday night, dreading the promised appearance of Queen Jasmine, I sort of snapped. It had been a dreadful day at work and I just had nothing left in the tank. My Doctor had prescribed me some sedatives a year or so ago when I had told him of my feelings for my home situation. I was fearful of sinking into a depression and he prescribed some anti-anxiety medication.
I was sort of in a haze and I found myself setting the table and pouring the wine that I knew Jasmine would spend the evening complaining about. I crushed a sedative (okay maybe a couple) up between two teaspoons and gently tipping the powder into Jasmine’s wine glass.
James was in the bathroom shaving for the second time that day (Mummy likes her boy to look clean) and so I had some time. I poured the wine into the glass (I selected red to be safe) and stirred the hell out of it. There were still some floaty bits in it (this I can tell you is nothing like it is in the movies) and so I ran it from one glass into another through a tea strainer. Success! The wine looked quite innocent and I couldn’t wait until the deed was done.
It wasn’t until Jasmine arrived that I started feeling nervous. She breezed in kissing her hellos and I secretly wondered whether she had an allergy to this kind of medication. What if she died?! I couldn’t go to prison I just couldn’t! I couldn’t kill James’ Mother no matter how much I disliked her.
I decided to abandon the plan when before I could even make it to the kitchen, Jasmine floated in, grabbed the glass and downed it in one fluid motion. “Oh mercy did I need that!” she blurted with the usual air of drama.
“A bit young though Harriet, I like it aged way more than that”, she added. Blow it all, I was then glad that I had gone through with my scheme.
We were about halfway through Jasmine’s hand-made crab ravioli when she started to nod. It looked like she was just sleepy at first. James asked whether she was okay and when Jasmine answered she sounded a little drunk. James shot me a private glance and I made the ‘drinky drinky’ motion with my hand. James made a face that indicated he understood and agreed.
Jasmine nodded again and again and then – to my delight and mild horror – her face fell smack down into her ravioli. There was a wet thud and I panicked. Was she still alive?
James dived to her aid and felt her pulse. She was okay.
‘I’d better call a Doctor’ James said almost in tears. My heart was in my mouth.
While James was cooing over her I had a sudden moment of clarity. I called out that I would grab a cloth from the bathroom for her face. I quickly bolted to the wet bar and poured out about three quarters of a bottle of scotch into the bathroom sink. I poured a tiny bit into a tumbler also and when I returned to the kitchen with said washcloth and also the ‘evidence’ I had staged. I slammed the scotch bottle and tumbler down in front of James and quickly began wiping Jasmines’ face, saying nothing all the while.
‘Oh Jeez’, exclaimed James in a weary sort of way. Jasmine had been known to overdo it now and again with the booze and this all just fit together as another one of those occasions.
We lay Jasmine down on the day-bed and went back into the kitchen.’We really should keep this low-key’, I said to James.’We don’t want to embarrass your poor Mum’, I added.
‘You’re right’, James said after some thought.
‘Thank you for being so good about this – it’s not the kind of thing I ever wanted you to see and I know Mum’s hard to get on with sometimes’. This was the understatement of the century but I took it. I felt pretty bad seeing as how James thought I was being so very understanding.
We kept an eye on Jasmine that night and the old girl only woke the next day at 2pm when James’s father came to pick her up looking quite hard done by. She was very sheepish and her memory was scratchy so she believed James when he said she had ‘taken liberties’ with the scotch bottle. I almost felt bad for her when she kissed me on the cheek and whispered that she was ‘so ashamed’.
She didn’t bring dinner over for several months after that and when she did finally, she rarely stayed.
I have never told James about what I did that night and I have never repeated it, although I have to say I have been very, very tempted on occasion.
Names have been changed. Picture posed by models.
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