Читать книгу Songs in the Night - Madlena Khaidarova - Страница 6

My father moved out of the house. My mother refused to divide us kids. We stayed with mum. My father had always been the main bread-winner in our family. Things changed. We began to struggle constantly with finances. I was growing up and, of course, wanted to be trendy. This was a challenge since I found myself continually having to wear the things my older cousin grew out of. She was much taller than me, and also unlike me, was blonde. Her things didn’t look good on me at all. Soon my father remarried, bought a new car, and to his great joy, his new wife bore him a son. His life was coming together. My brother and I missed our dad big time and we continued from time to time to visit him in his new apartment.

Once it was winter and I desperately needed new fur-lined, winter boots. I came to my father for help. He didn’t give me a cent. Instead he told me, «Learn to live frugally. Don’t count on me, you have a mother!»… I went through a whole winter in thin, autumn boots. Anger, resentment, helplessness, shame and disgust, hatred of life and self-hatred, a revolt against everyone and everything – these were the usual feelings that overflowed me at that time.

My mother barely spoke to us. Sometimes she just poured out her anger on me. I often met her hot hand, and there would always be good reason, with my temperament… My mother was always angry, annoyed or depressed. Sometimes she would sit down on the couch, silently fixated on something. She could not cope with the betrayal of the man whose life she once saved, for whom she bore two children, and with whom she lived for more than 12 years.

Little by little, she began to drink more and more often. From Monday to Friday she would work from morning till late, and from Friday to Sunday – went into oblivion. Neither at her work, our school, the neighbours – no one suspected our family secret. My mother never missed work, was neat, hardworking and responsible. The house was clean, there was food, and we had cheap, but clean clothes and footwear. But my mother had no warmth, tenderness, time, strength, or encouragement for me or my brother. Only much later Mum admitted that one day, she had brought home poison, and was going to drink it after we had fallen asleep. After realizing that she couldn’t leave us completely alone, weeping, she poured it down the kitchen sink. To see the pain and loneliness of my mother was unbearable. I loved and respected her very much and I wanted to help her. But how? I told her, «Mum, please, get married. I really want you to be happy.» She answered, «Who needs me, a woman with two children?» She never married again.

My brother started to grow up and get into trouble on the streets. I was doing worse and worse at school. I rebelled against all the teachers and against life itself, not recognizing or respecting any authority. I remember how I once fought to defend my brother from older guys troubling him. On another occasion, I tried to gather a bunch together to protect us from youth from another region who stole my brother’s gold chain and cross. All in all none of them would be willing to stand up for us. Not one. Gradually, I began to be more and more aware of my weakness and vulnerability. I hated the fact that I was born a weak, defenceless woman. This world is not a place for the weak. I looked around, wondering, trying to find out, “Who will help us? Who will protect us? Who do we have in this vast and indifferent city?” The answer was obvious: Nobody. Absolutely nobody. We were completely alone, hopeless and helpless. My Mum was suffering a breakdown and my little brother was still so young… Me? No matter how much I tried, I could not please my mother or lift her above the burden she carried. I couldn’t help either of them…