Читать книгу Songs in the Night - Madlena Khaidarova - Страница 5

I was 7 years old when we arrived in a big city, surrounded by beautiful, majestic mountains, clad in white hats. The city seemed huge and grey. It greeted me with a cold shoulder. Already, it seemed we didn’t like each other. Later, I wrote a poem:

It was winter. It smelled strange – chimney smoke, frost and snow. There was no sea, and I missed it… I thought that I was different from other people, both in appearance and expression. I was too open, too noisy and too alive. I was embarrassed of my appearance. Most likely the whole thing was about my “great nose”… I was too aggressive. I pretended as if I wasn’t afraid of anyone. I fought with the boys and bossed people around with my sharp tongue. Of course, the boys gave me the same back. They teased me – the “Armenian”, the «witch», «fighting for justice» and «Caucasian prisoner»!

There wasn’t much at all to build my self-esteem… Dad was always away on business trips and came back weary. He couldn’t ever seem to muster up enough energy to deal with me. He read the newspaper «Soviet Sport», and I sat beside him on the floor by the couch and watched the rings of smoke from his “Medeo” cigarettes float towards the ceiling. I learned to play guitar at a summer camp – it upset my dad – and he promptly bought me a sewing machine. A sad fate awaited that sewing machine! For years it turned into a TV stand. Becoming a seamstress was not for me…

I was growing up and I needed to know if I looked okay. One day I asked my father what he thought about my appearancee. “Do I look good?” I asked. He got angry for some reason. «What are you talking about? A woman’s beauty is to be humble and hardworking.” I decided I was probably ugly…

When I was about 10 years old, my father took my brother and Ito a kids’ Christmas-party event. There we met a girl about 12 years old. After the party we went to our house, and the girl told me that she, too, is the daughter of our father. She just had a different mother. I was confused, but happy. We looked quite similar. We became very close. Years later, our family began having trouble. It came out that my dad was unfaithful to my mother. Back then, one of the happiest days I remember was the day my parents reconciled after a long quarrel, and a long silence. We boiled corn on the cob, and we enjoyed feasting on it together like a real family, sitting on the floor watching television. This was our last pleasant memory. Scandals became more frequent – accusations, insults, tears, fights – all this lasted about a year.

Finally, when I was about 12 years old, and my little brother, eight, my parents divorced.

I remember the day of their divorce. It was January 19, 1983. They returned from the court and entered the house in silence. My mother went into the back room, and I whispered, «What’s wrong?» «Divorced,» she answered quietly. Dad threw a packet of “Squirrel” lollieson the table – I still can’t stand these lollies. I prayed and hoped that they would come to their senses and make peace. I asked my father, “How will we live without you? How will you live without us?” He answered me, «You will grow up and you will understand. Don’t worry, everything will stay the same. I’m still your father…» I raided the first aid kit and swallowed 20 pills. I also scribbled down the name of them just in case the doctors needed to save me! I didn’t want to die but just hoped to scare my parents enough, to get their attention, to get them to work things out. I wished we could stay together as a family.

I couldn’t believe it was really happening. Surely it was just a horrible dream and I will wake up and discover everything is as it was before. That day I went to school, and it seemed to me that the city had become even more grey. I walked around the school, looking blankly at the toes of my boots and at the black footprints I left behind in the snow. I was surprised inside me there was such a wild pain and chilling fear, yet I wasn’t dying. I found it strange that life goes on, everything was okay, and I had to go to class as if nothing had happened. I found it strange that no one could see, understand or perceive that the world had come to an end – at least my world. I felt an infinite loneliness, piercing pain, despair and helplessness, “How are we going to live? How is it even possible to live if your heart is broken into two parts?” I struggled within myself.

During the second period I fell sound asleep. That was it?! The pills didn’t do their job very well. The teacher thought I was seriously ill, shook me and smartly sent me home. Staggering off, I went home, with hot tears streaming down my frozen cheeks. Nobody knew, nobody was scared, no one changed their mind. I was not able to influence the situation. For the first time in my life I felt completely helpless. The next morning I woke up, but my nightmare continued.