“Yeah,” he said, looking sheepish. “She’s… well, she’s a bit of a character.
But I want her to meet you.”
I smiled, though I couldn’t shake the slight knot forming in my stomach.
“Okay,” I said. “When?”
“How about next weekend? I’ll call her and set it up.”
And just like that, I was about to meet Christine.
Little did I know, this would be the beginning of a rollercoaster relationship unlike any I’d ever experienced.
The following weekend, Henry and I drove to Christine’s house.
I decided to bring flowers because I wanted to make a good impression.
Even though Henry told me his mom could be “a bit of a character,” I thought giving flowers would at least make her smile.
As soon as she opened the door, I plastered on my warmest smile and held out the bouquet.
“These are for you, Christine,” I said, trying to sound polite and friendly.
“Oh, how sweet,” she said, taking the flowers without much enthusiasm. Her Southern drawl was as thick as molasses, and her tone didn’t exactly scream excitement. “Come on in, y’all.”
The living room smelled faintly of lavender and coffee.
Henry and I settled on the couch while Christine perched on an armchair, eyeing me like she was trying to size me up.
“So,” she began, folding her hands in her lap, “Henry tells me y’all been seeing each other for a while now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied. “It’s been about eight months.”
She nodded, then turned to Henry. “And you’re happy, I take it?”
Henry smiled.
“Very happy, Mom.”
“Well, that’s good,” she said, though her tone didn’t match her words. She turned back to me, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And what is it you do, Elisa?”
Here we go, I thought.
“I’m a mechanic,” I said proudly, meeting her gaze.
“A mechanic?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow.
“You mean you fix cars?”
“That’s right,” I said, keeping my tone steady.
Christine leaned back in her chair and let out a dry laugh.
“A woman fixing cars?” she said. “That’s not a real career!”
The air felt heavier all of a sudden. I could feel Henry tense up next to me.
“It’s not like that, Mom,” he said firmly.
“Mechanics earn well and it’s a nice job.”
She gave him a skeptical look.
“Oh, I’m sure it is, honey,” she laughed. “I just think it’s mighty unusual. Women these days, always tryin’ to do men’s work.”
I forced a smile, but inside, I was fuming.
Before I could respond, Henry spoke up.
“I love Elisa, and you’ll just have to accept that, Mom. She’s amazing at what she does, and I’m proud of her.”
Christine’s lips tightened, but she nodded. “Well, if you’re happy, that’s all that matters, I suppose.”
The rest of the visit was just as awkward.
She pretended to accept me, but I could tell she wasn’t thrilled about me being in her son’s life.
After we left, I turned to Henry.
“Your mom doesn’t like me,” I said bluntly.
“She’s just… set in her ways,” he sighed. “But don’t worry, Elisa. I’ve got your back.”
We got married a year later, and though Christine attended the wedding, her lukewarm attitude toward me hadn’t changed.
Henry and I bought a house just a few blocks away from hers, which meant I had to see her more often than I would’ve liked.
Every time we visited, she’d find some way to make a snide remark about my career or subtly imply that I wasn’t good enough for her son.
Then came my birthday.
Henry threw me a small party, and Christine showed up with a smug grin and a set of car keys in her hand.
“Well, happy birthday, Elisa,” she said in her fake sweet tone.
“Thank you,” I said, confused as she handed me the keys.
“Since you’re such an ‘amazing’ mechanic,” she added with a smirk, “here’s a project for you.”
A few minutes later, I followed her to her garage, where she unveiled a decrepit 2008 Ford Mustang GT, covered in a decade’s worth of dust and cobwebs.
“It hasn’t run in over ten years,” she said, clearly enjoying herself.
“Fix it if you’re so good. Happy birthday.”
This was, without a doubt, the strangest gift I’d ever received. My friends, who had followed us to the garage, exchanged bewildered looks.
Christine gave me one last smirk before walking off.
That’s when I understood she thought she’d put me in my place with that so-called “gift.” But what she didn’t realize was that she’d handed me a challenge.
And I loved a good challenge.
A day after my birthday, I returned to the garage.
Beneath the dust and grime, I could see the potential. I knew that with the right amount of love and effort, this baby could shine again.
It took some effort (and a good chunk of my own money) to tow the car to my garage, but I was determined.
Over the next six months, I poured everything I had into that Mustang. I sourced rare parts, some of which I had to track down from collectors across the country.
I worked late nights, replacing the engine, fixing the suspension, and even restoring the interior to its former glory.
At that point, it wasn’t just about making it run again. I wanted it to look like it had just rolled off the factory floor.
Henry would often come into the garage while I was working, bringing me snacks or just hanging out to keep me company.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” he’d say, watching as I fine-tuned the engine. “My mom has no idea who she’s dealing with.”
By the time I was done, the Mustang wasn’t just running.
It was a masterpiece.
The shiny black paint gleamed under the lights, and the engine purred like a contented cat. I knew I’d turned that forgotten heap of metal into a car worth at least $20,000.
My friends, neighbors, and even some of my clients came by to see it.
Word spread quickly, and soon enough, Christine caught wind of my success.
One afternoon, as I was admiring the finished car in my garage, Christine stormed in unannounced. She didn’t even bother with pleasantries.
“That car is still legally mine,” she declared, waving the title like it was a sword.
“And I want it back.”
I blinked, trying to process what I was hearing. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” she said, crossing her arms. “You’ve had your fun fixing it up, but now it’s time to hand it over.
I’ll be selling it myself.”
I stared at her in disbelief. Was she asking me to return her gift? Really, Christine?
“You gave this car to me as a gift, Christine.
Remember? On my birthday?”
Her lips curled into a smirk. “A gift, sure.
But I never said you could keep it.”
I could feel my blood boiling, but I wasn’t about to lose my composure.
“Well, here’s the thing,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “I have receipts for every single cent I spent on this car, photos documenting every stage of the restoration, and witnesses who heard you explicitly say it was a gift. So, no, you’re not getting it back.”
Christine’s smirk faltered, but she didn’t back down.
“We’ll see about that,” she said before storming out.
And see we did.
I hired a lawyer, and the court case was swift.
My lawyer presented all the evidence, including testimony from my friends and family who had been at my birthday party.
They confirmed that Christine had declared the car a gift. The judge ruled in my favor, stating that the Mustang was legally mine.
Christine was even ordered to cover my legal fees.
The victory was sweet, but the icing on the cake was what came next.
I sold the Mustang for $20,000 and used part of the money to buy a new car for myself and fund a road trip with Henry. We drove across the country in our dream car, visiting car shows and making memories that we’d cherish forever.
As for Christine, she wasn’t thrilled about the outcome.
Moreover, her son had finally set some firm boundaries.
“Mom, if you can’t respect Elisa, then you’re not welcome in our lives,” he told her.
And just like that, her interference began to dwindle.
I don’t know if she has truly accepted my job as a “real career,” but I’m sure she’ll think twice before handing me another car key again.
Source: amomama
