When my mother went around pregnant, she dreamed that she would give birth to a blonde beauty, she told me herself. If the first few months after I was born my mother was still waiting to see if my features would change, she soon realized that I took after my late grandmother, not a beauty at all.
I remember my mother’s caustic “compliments” on my appearance from childhood. My hair was wrong, my nose was crooked, I couldn’t smile, and my ears were big… I had a strong opinion that I would grow up to be ugly, and that everyone would be sick to look at. If even my own mother did not like me, then what to say about the rest!
But my mother was very fond of herself. She spent a lot of time on cosmetic procedures, spent a lot of money on this, and very afraid to look older than she is.
Eventually, to prove that she was young and beautiful, Mom started dating a man who was seven years younger than she was. The outcome of their meetings was predictable: divorce. When Mom voiced this at home, she, for the sake of pro forma, quipped: “Maybe you’ll move in with me.” That “maybe” really pissed me off at the time, and I firmly replied, “No, I’m staying home with Daddy. Mom hummed, it was obvious that that was the answer she was counting on, and disappeared from our lives.
Dad and I lived amicably, but after a while he, too, decided that a man needed a woman. I was already in high school, I understood why Dad asked me to stay the night with my classmates, though I was hurt that I was practically being kicked out of my own home.
I patiently tolerated my father’s hobbies, though sometimes he clearly crossed the line, like once on his birthday. I saved my pocket money for two months to buy a cake and a small present, but when I called home after school, in high spirits, my father opened the door in a hastily pulled robe, and, smiling guiltily, asked again that I not spend the night at home.
The door slammed shut, I tied the present to the doorknob on the side of the entryway, and went to my “go-to girl,” a school friend. She and her mom and I had tea and cake, and I cried, and they calmed me down… Thank God, after graduation from high school Mark came into my life.
I don’t know why he paid attention to me, but when he left for the army he asked me to wait for him. Of course, I waited, I often wrote him letters, I met him at the railway station, matured, and there he proposed to me.
We have a wonderful family, we have two children, we do not need anything, we love and respect each other. My parents, until recently, were not interested in me at all, and I did not seek to maintain a relationship with them. I once wished I hadn’t called for a year, would one of them call me? They didn’t…
And then, recently, on the street, my mother called out to me. I probably would not have recognized her, but that acerbity that I remembered so well, did not disappear in her phrases:
– Oh, you can’t even get dressed properly, as usual! You could help your mother and in her old age, I heard (where?) You live well. You left me, you decided to live with your daddy… And where is he now, your daddy?
– Drunk! So, are you inviting me to visit?
I replied that I myself can not make that decision, and call back after talking with her husband. Mom just smirked:
– Well, of course, then with my dad, then with my husband! And Mom – nothing!
And a week later, I was coming back from work in the evening, almost fell down, tripping on someone’s leg. Scared that the person was sick, I shined the phone, and I saw my father. He was drunk, but when I shook him awake, he opened his eyes:
– Give me a few pennies!
I called my husband, and the two of us dragged the body back to his apartment. I left some money on the nightstand by the door, and we left… After those “memorable” meetings, I never saw my parents again, and I don’t want to.
