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 announced it to her today.
The girl locked herself in her room and never left it all day. They called her; her mother stood at the door, suggesting they go to the movies, an amusement park, take a walk, or visit friends. She didnt answer. Lying on the sofa, she first cried, then fell asleep. Later she stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. By evening hunger finally forced her to get up.
It took her a few years to get used to the new arrangement. She received every word from her mother with suspicion, looked at them together with contempt, behaved insolently, crudely, and full of hatred. Her mothers younger sister tried to speak with her, but she refused to listen. She often dreamed of escaping. One day she fled and hid in a neighboring house, sitting on the steps that led to the attic until the cold drove her to her aunts place.
When her mother came to fetch her, the girl was already warmed up and had eaten. Her mothers hands trembled slightly and her eyes filled with tears. She had come alone.
They returned home by taxi. She watched her mothers profile and saw her as old. He, however, was handsome. Then he mysteriously vanished for an entire month. The girl asked nothing, and her mother said nothing, but the houses atmosphere returned to the way it had been beforejust her and her mother. Gradually they reconciled, and the girl calmed down.
Later he came back: her mothers young husband. The girl 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, purposely holding his hand longer than needed. She looked him straight in the eyes, and he met her gaze. Her mother, pale, lowered her head. The meal ended in silence.
Another day, when her mother was absent, she leaned against him, pressed her forehead to his back, and held her breath. He stayed still for a moment, then turned, gently pushed her aside, and took her by the shoulders, telling her not to act foolishly. She broke into hysterical tears: Why? What do you see in her? Shes old, shes wrinkled, cant you see? Why do you want an old woman?
He gave her a glass of water, seated her in a chair, covered her with a blanket, then slammed the door on his way out. She remained there, weeping, realizing she had to leave, move into a dormitory or find an apartment. She had just been rejected like a kittenset aside and humiliated.
He was unbelievably handsome; she dreamed about him. He didnt return home, and her mother stayed quiet. The two of them wandered the house like shadows.
He finally came back 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. Tired, 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 must stop hurting each other. He never averted his gaze.
She spent the night lying awake, eyes dry, mind empty. The next day she walked in on him and her mother kissing in the kitchen. Nausea washed over her and she rushed to the bathroom.
She secured a spot in a university residence. Her mother asked her to return, and later gave her money to rent an apartment.
At 25, he was 35 and her mother 45. Against all odds, their relationships had almost normalized. She visited them, they ate lunch together, talked and laughed. One day her mothers sister said, Thank God, youve grown up. Her mother was happy, at peace, and her husband remained as striking as ever. She realized she was comparing every potential partner to him, and she didnt like that.
Then she endured an unhappy love affair. The man was married and had no intention of leaving his wife. She loved him, waited for him after work, cried. She didnt want to be a secret lover. Everything was painful, tearing, bitter. He took her to the sea, gave her gifts, and wondered whether that was enough, whether the relationship had to become official with marriage and children. To him, sharing a daily life together was boring.
She refused, shaking her head stubbornly. She remembered her mother kissing her husband in the kitchen, and herself, foolishly, fleeing to vomit from disgust. She couldnt understand that a shared life could be differentbeautiful, peaceful, authentic.
That year she weathered a great internal storm. She rarely went home, meeting her mother occasionally in cafés. Her mother had slimmed a bit, still caring about her appearance. Her husband stayed as charming as ever. Now an adult and clearsighted, she finally grasped the full extent of her mothers love.
At 28, he was 38 and her mother 48. A job offer in another city appeared, and she leftactually, she sought that job to escape painful past relationships that had consumed almost three years of her life.
She adapted well to the new routine, serene. She even began a relationship with a single, charming coworker. It seemed time to marry, start a family, make decisions for her life.
Her mothers husband visited the new city on business. They had lunch together. She felt light and joyful, telling him about her new life, asking about his work and her mother. He answered. Then she noticed his hands and felt an intense, physical yearning for him to hold her.
He seemed to understand, fell silent, searching for words, afraid of hurting her. Still, he said, I love you, you little spoiled girl. I know and feel your pain, your wounds, your desires. 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, hearing a tired but reassuring voice. Of course, my daughter, come next weekend. Not this timeyou have things to do. Ill be happy to see you; I miss you a lot. 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 things turned out. Forgive me. I never wanted to hurt you
Later he called again, announcing her mother was hospitalized and she needed to come. Two days of work, then she would be there. Two days isnt long, right? Not long; shed arrive just in time for tests and a diagnosis.
She came, but couldnt see her mother in time. He stood in the hospital hallway, eyes empty, handsome yet distant. He fixed his 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, repeatedly cleaning the windows.
He also took care of things, coming home late, skipping dinner, slipping silently into the bedroom.
One day he was absent, and she entered. The scent of her mothers perfume, of past happiness, struck her heart as she saw photos of her mother everywhere: on the dresser, on the wall, on the quilt She slammed the door shut.
She realized she had never truly understood their love, and she would never understand it.
