She is 32, and her 12yearold son has just married her new 22yearold husband. She is 12, he is 22, and her mother is 32. Yesterday he became her mothers spouse, and they told her that today.
The girl locked herself in her room and didnt emerge the whole day. They called her; her mother stood at the doorway, suggested they go to the cinema, an amusement park, take a walk, visit friends. She never answered. Lying on the sofa, she first wept, then fell asleep. Later she stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. By evening hunger finally forced her out.
It took her several years to adjust to the new reality. Every word from her mother was met with suspicion; she watched them together with contempt, behaved defiantly, rudely, full of hatred. Her mothers younger sister tried to speak to her, but she refused to listen. She often thought of fleeing. One day she ran away, hid in a neighboring house, sitting on the steps leading to the attic until the cold made her seek refuge with her aunt.
When her mother came to fetch her, the girl was already warmed up and had eaten. Her mothers hands trembled slightly and her eyes were watery. She had come alone.
They returned home by taxi. The girl looked at her mothers profile and saw her as old. He, however, was handsome. Then he vanished mysteriously for an entire month. The girl asked nothing, her mother said nothing, and the house returned to the way it had beenjust the two of them. Gradually they reconciled, and the girl steadied.
Later, he came backthe young husband of her mother. She grew accustomed to his presence, realizing he was now part of their lives. At 18, while they were having lunch, she slid a knife across the table, deliberately holding his hand longer than needed. She stared straight into his eyes, and he met her gaze. Her mother, pale, lowered her head. The meal ended in silence.
Another day, when her mother was away, she approached him, pressed her forehead against his back, and held her breath. He stood still a moment, then turned, gently pushed her aside, and took her by the shoulders, telling her not to act like a fool. She burst into hysterical tears: Why? What do you see in her? Shes old, she has wrinkles, dont you see? Why do you want an old woman?
He brought her a glass of water, settled her in a chair, covered her with a blanket, then slammed the door and left. She stayed there crying, realizing she had to leave, move into a university residence or find an apartment. She had just been rejected like a kittenset aside, humiliated.
He was so goodlooking. She dreamed about him. He didnt come home, and her mother stayed silent. Both of them drifted through the house like shadows.
He finally returned after a few days. Her mother wasnt there; she was alone again, writing notes in the kitchen while sipping tea. When he entered and sat opposite her, her heart stopped. Fatigued, he looked her in the eyes and said, Im in love with your mother, accept it. Shes the one I love, not you. We wont argue about this; we need to stop hurting each other. He never averted his gaze.
She spent the night lying awake, eyes dry, mind empty. The next day she stumbled upon him and her mother kissing in the kitchen, felt sick, and ran to the bathroom.
She secured a spot in a university dorm. Her mother asked her to return, then later gave her money to rent an apartment.
At 25, he was 35 and her mother 45. Against expectations, their relationships had almost normalized. She visited them, they ate lunch together, talked and laughed. Her mothers sister once said, Thank God, youve grown up. Her mother was happy, at peace, and her husband remained as handsome as everindeed, extremely handsome. She realized she compared every suitor to him, and that thought displeased her.
Later she endured an unhappy romance. The man was married and had no intention of leaving his wife. She loved him, waited for him after work, wept, and refused to be a secret mistress. Everything was painful, tearing, and bitter. He took her to the sea, gave her gifts, and wondered whether a marriage and children were necessary; to him, sharing a daily life was boring.
She refused, shaking her head stubbornly. She remembered her mother kissing her husband in the kitchen, and herself, foolishly, running away to vomit from disgust. She couldnt grasp that a shared life could be differentbeautiful, peaceful, authentic.
That year she weathered an intense inner storm. She rarely returned home, meeting her mother in cafés occasionally. Her mother had slimmed a bit, still caring about her appearance. Her husband remained charming. As an adult, she finally understood the depth of her mothers love.
At 28, he was 38, her mother 48. A job opportunity in another city arose, and she leftseeking escape from past, draining relationships that had consumed almost three years of her life.
She adapted well to the new routine, calm and collected. She even began a relationship with a single, attractive coworker. It seemed time to marry, to start a family, to make life decisions.
Her mothers husband came to the new city on business. They had lunch together. She felt light and happy, telling him about her new life, asking about business and about her mother. He answered. Then she noticed his hands and felt an intense, physical desire to be held.
He seemed to understand, fell silent, searching for words, fearing to hurt her, but finally said, I love you, you little spoiled girl. I know and feel your pain, your wounds, your wishes. Well always be good friends; you can always count on me.
The situation was awkward for both. She shook her head and laughed, What do you really want from me?
Soon after, he called to say her mother was ill and awaiting her visit. She called her mother back, whose voice was tired yet comforting: Of course, dear, come next weekend. Not this timeyou have things to do. Ill be glad to see you; I miss you. Unexpectedly, her mother added, Did you forgive me? For him, I mean. I know you loved him; I saw it. Ive regretted a thousand times how everything unfolded. Forgive me. I never wanted to hurt you
Later he called again, announcing that her mother had been hospitalized and she needed to come. Two days of work, then she would be there. Two days isnt long, right? Not longjust in time for tests and diagnosis.
She arrived, but couldnt see her mother in time. He stood in the hospital hallway, eyes empty, handsome yet distant. He fixed a heavy gaze on her, then turned toward the window.
After the funeral, she drifted through the apartment like a specter, moving objects, washing alreadyclean dishes, preparing and discarding tea after tea, cleaning the windows repeatedly.
He also took care of things, coming home late, skipping dinner, slipping silently into the bedroom.
One day he was absent; she entered the room. The scent of her mothers perfume, of past happiness, seized her heart as she saw photos of her mother everywhereon the dresser, on the wall, on the quilt. She slammed the door shut.
She realized she had never truly understood their love, and that she would never understand it.
At 32, She Just Watched Her 12-Year-Old Son Marry Her New 22-Year-Old Husband.
