Zmrazilo me je. Presekalo me je v nogah. Za droben trenutek sem odrevenela. V naslednji sekundi sem se že pognala po stopnicah navzgor v njeno sobo. Pogledala sem skozi vrata. Lučka v očeh se mi je ponovno prižgala. Zamižala sem in začela znova dihati. Naslonila sem se na steno in ob njej počasi drsela proti tlom. Zložila sem se sama vase. Bila sem kot odvržena stara krpa.
Mož in hči sta me zagledala. Oba sta pritekla k meni. Mož me je objel, hči se mi je zvrnila v naročje. Smejala sta se. Bila sta vesela in razposajena. Hči je v mojem naročju čebljala vse mogoče, mož pa me je božal po laseh in privijal k sebi. Želel je, da se umirim. Želel je, da hči ne opazi, kako sem razburjena. Z očmi, polnimi solz, sem ga pogledala, on pa se mi je nasmehnil in me še bolj privil k sebi. Počasi se mi je na ustnice vračal nasmeh.
* * *
Prvi me je udaril enkrat in mama ga je še isti trenutek napodila. Brez razmišljanja. Pri drugem sem bila tepena desetkrat, preden se je mama odločila, da ga napodi. Pri tretjem sem samo gledala, kako pretepa mamo. Pri njem je trajalo zelo dolgo, da ga je mama napodila. Pri četrtem sva bili tepeni obe. Potem sem nehala šteti. Neprestano so prihajali novi. Večine se sploh ne spomnim več. Za večino ne vem več, katero od naju so tepli.
* * *
Mama je svoje moške menjala po tekočem traku. Njihova imena nikoli niso bila pomembna. Zame so bili številke. Te so bila zame njihova imena. Kmalu tudi številke niso bile več pomembne. Pomembno je bilo le, če sem jih lahko klicala očka. Te sem nekako vzela za svoje. Ti so bili najslabši.
* * *
Babica mi je razlagala, da ji je hudo za mojo mamo. Da bi lahko imela družino, tako kot jo ima sama. Da bi lahko imela moškega, ki bi zanjo skrbel, kot ga ima sama. Da bi lahko bila srečna, kot je sama. Samo če bi hotela. Če ne bi bila upornica brez razloga.
Mama mi je razlagala, da ji je hudo za mojo babico. Da bi lahko bila svobodna, tako kot je sama. Da ji ne bi bilo treba prenašati dedka in njegovih izpadov, kot njej ni potrebno prenašati nobenega moškega. Da bi bila lahko srečna, kot je sama. Samo če bi hotela. Če ne bi bila tako staromodna.
* * *
Sedeli sta si nasproti za mizo, jaz pa sem ju opazovala iz kota sobe. Obe sta imeli podpluti očesi in kup modric, ki so kukale izpod obleke. Gledali sta se s solzami v očeh in se obkladali s težkimi besedami:
– Kurba! Kdo te je pa tokrat pretepel? – Kdo to sprašuje? Ti, ki se mu vsakič pustiš pretepsti? Reva! – Ne govori mi reva! Zaradi tebe sem takšna, kakršna sem. – Jaz sem pa zaradi tebe takšna, kot sem. – Te nisem dobro vzgajala? – Pustila si mu, da te je pred mano pretepal. In da je tudi mene tepel. – A si imela vsaj očeta! Tvoja hči ga nima. – Kaj mi je bil tak oče? In kaj bo njej? Raje vidim, da je brez očeta, kakor da jo oče tepe. Ali pred njo tepe mene. – Raje vidiš, da te pred njo pretepajo različni moški? In tudi njo je že marsikateri udaril, čeprav tega ne povesta. Saj se vse vidi! Besede niso potrebne. – Tudi pri tebi se vse vidi!
Ničesar nisem razumela. Obe sem imela rada. Najraje bi ju stlačila v culo, si dala culo čez ramo in odšla na drugi konec sveta.
* * *
Na drugem koncu sveta je vse lepo. Na drugem koncu sveta se cedita med in mleko. Na drugem koncu sveta so vsi srečni. Ko bom velika, bom tudi jaz odšla na drugi konec sveta. Ko bom velika, bom najbolj srečna deklica na svetu. Na drugem koncu sveta se bo takrat zgodila moja pravljica.
* * *
Babica si je obljubila, da ne bo nikoli zapustila dedka. Zaradi otrok. Otroci morajo imeti očeta. To si je obljubila, ko je gledala svojo mamo. To si je obljubila, še preden je imela prvega moškega.
Mama si je obljubila, da njeni otroci nikoli ne bodo imeli očeta. Očeta, ki jih bo pretepal. To si je obljubila, ko je gledala svojo mamo. To si je obljubila, še preden je imela prvega moškega.
Obljubila sem si, da mojih otrok nihče ne bo pretepal. Obljubila sem si tudi, da nihče ne bo pretepal mene vpričo njih. To sem si obljubila, ko sem gledala svojo mamo. To sem si obljubila še preden sem imela prvega moškega.
* * *
Babica se je držala svoje obljube. Svojega moža ni nikoli zapustila. Bila je večkrat podpluta. Otroci so pogosto gledali, kako jo dedek tepe. Njih ni udaril nikoli. Vsaj dokler so bili še majhni. Babici se je tak oče zdel dober oče.
Mama se je držala svoje obljube. Bila sem njena edinka in oče me ni nikoli pretepel. Očeta nisem nikoli spoznala. So me pa zato pretepali nekateri njeni ljubimci. Ponavadi tisti, ki sem jih imela najraje. Njo pa so pred mano pretepali vsi.
Jaz sem se tudi držala svoje obljube. Moje hčere ne pretepa njen oče. In ne pretepajo je moji ljubimci. Ne pretepa je moj mož. Tudi mene vpričo nje ne pretepa nihče.
* * *
Dokončno sem imela vsega skupaj zadosti tistega dne, ko sem se vrnila iz šole in na tleh zagledala pretepeno mamo. Ni imela samo modric, kot ponavadi. Tokrat je imela tudi počeno kožo na licih in razbito arkado. Pa še marsikaj se je skrivalo pod obleko. Tako hudo ni bilo še nikoli. Tako grozno ni bila videti še nikoli. Tudi premikati se ni mogla. Ždela je na tleh in čisto plitko dihala. Tako jo je manj bolelo. Hotela sem poklicati policijo in rešilca, pa se je branila. Ni hotela. Znova je želela vse sama preboleti. Se sama postaviti na noge.
Postavila sem ji ultimat. Naj mi dovoli, da ji pomagam, ali pa grem. Za zmeraj. Prvič v življenju sem tudi naredila točno to, kar sem rekla.
* * *
Gledala sem jo. Ležala je na tleh. Obraz je imela skrit v svojih rokah. Prepirali sva se že dobro uro in izgubljala sem živce:
– Mama, ali te peljem k zdravniku ali se odselim to sekundo in te ne poznam več! – Ne kliči nikogar, saj bo vse v redu! Huje zgleda, kot je v resnici. Samo da se malo naspim in da se rane zacelijo. Saj veš, da je potem vedno vse v redu. Tudi tokrat bo.
Nisem je več poslušala. Napolnila sem torbo s svojimi stvarmi in brez besed odšla.
* * *
Bilo me je groza, ker sem jo pustila samo. Bilo me je strah. Sovražila sem se, ker nisem ostala in ji pomagala. Bala sem se, da ne bo preživela, a sem vedela, da bo. Vedno je, ne glede na to, kako hudo je bilo.
Bila sem ponosna, ker sem držala svojo besedo. Verjela sem, da jo bo to spremenilo. Da jo bo moj odhod od doma streznil. Da bo končno spremenila svoj način življenja. To svoje veselje in spoznanje sem želela deliti še s kom. In svoj strah tudi. Vse to sem si želela deliti z babico. Obe sva hoteli moji mami najboljše. Babica je tudi vedno poskrbela zame.
* * *
Vso pot do babice sem tekla in si poskušala izbrisati iz glave sliko z zadnjim pogledom na mamo. Prišla sem do vrat. Končno bom lahko malo pozabila na pretepanje. Končno bom lahko z babico verjela v boljšo prihodnost. Pomirjena sem pozvonila. Vrata mi je odprla babica. Videti je bila natanko tako kot mama, samo da so se ji rane že zacelile:
– Saj ni tako hudo. Je že v redu. Po dveh letih se je ponovno pregrešil. Ne smeš mu zameriti.
Nisem je poslušala do konca. Obrnila sem se in stekla stran. Sliki obeh pretepenih obrazov mi nista hoteli več iz glave. Celo noč sta se mi izmenjavali pred očmi, ko sem na klopci v najtemnejšem delu parka čakala na jutro.
* * *
Od vsej ljudi na svetu sem imela zase samo svojo mamo in babico. Z drugimi sem se pogovarjala, a le tisto, kar je bilo nujno potrebno. Nihče me ni maral. Nobene prijateljice nisem imela. Tudi prijatelja ne.
Enako je bilo z mojo mamo. Imela je samo babico in mene. Moških ni imela za prijatelje ali za pogovor. Imela jih je za druge zadeve.
Z babico je bilo enako kot z mano in mamo. Imela je mojo mamo in imela je mene. Z dedkom sta živela skupaj več kot polovico življenja, a sta živela drug mimo drugega.
Ženske iz naše družine smo bile rojene za to, da bomo skozi življenje hodile kot samotarke. Brez prijateljev. Brez sorodnih duš. Ženske istega debla bomo skrbele ena za drugo. To imamo zapisano v genih. Takrat sem v to popolnoma verjela.
* * *
Namesto prijateljev in sorodnih duš, si je moja mama vedno našla kakšnega moškega. Vedno je moral biti nekdo ob njej. Vsaj fizično. Odkar pomnim ni bila niti en sam dan sama. Tudi pred tem ni bila sama niti en dan.
Mislila je, da s tem dela uslugo obema. Meni in sebi. Da tako tudi jaz nisem nikoli sama. A ni bilo tako. Zaradi nje tudi jaz nisem imela prijateljic. Nihče se ni maral družiti z mano. Če pa si je kdo slučajno želel, so ga starši ali učitelji ali drugi otroci prepričali v nasprotno. S kurbino hčerko pa že ne bo nihče prijateljeval.
Svoje mame in tega njenega pogleda na svet nisem razumela vse do dneva, ko sem se odselila od nje.
* * *
Bila sem neprespana po noči v parku. Bolela me je glava in bilo mi je slabo. V takšnem stanju sem se odpravila po gostilnah. Iskala sem Prvega. Takrat sicer to še ni bil, a je kmalu postal.
Vsakič, ko me je videl, mi je obljubil, da se lahko kadar koli preselim k njemu. Pod pogojem, da bo z mano lahko dela kar koli in kadar koli. Poleg tega bom opravljala vsa ženska dela. Dal mi je obljubo. Obljubil je, da me ne bo nikoli pretepal. On že ne. On že ni tak.
Našla sem ga. Vesel me je prijel za roko in odpeljal domov. Takoj me je porabil za to, zaradi česar je želel, da se preselim k njemu. Takrat je zares postal Prvi. Takrat sem spoznala, kaj moški od ženske želijo. Da si to želijo nekaj krat na dan. Da to dobijo, ne glede na to, če ženska to hoče ali ne.
* * *
Izkazalo se je, da se Prvi ne pozna najbolje. Ali pa se je po letu dni spremenil. Prvi naenkrat ni bil več takšen, kot je obljubljal. Uporabljati me je začel kot boksarsko vrečo. Nisem bila pretepena, samo razširila sem ponudbo uslug. Dovolila, da je počel z menoj, kar je želel. Za kar me je želel uporabljati.
Po vsaki taki uporabi sem se opazovala v ogledalu. Skoraj nisem prenesla pogleda nase, a sem se morala opazovati. Ob pogledu nase sem videla sliko, kot je bila tista podoba mame in babice, ko sem ju nazadnje videla. Tista podoba, pred katero sem bežala. Tista podoba, ki sem jo sovražila. Tista podoba, ki sem jo spet našla. Ali pa je ona našla mene.
* * *
Po letu in pol sem ju prvič ponovno videla. Obe sta bili videti dobro. Obe sta bili v izjemni formi. Sama sem bila točno takšna, kakršni sta bili, ko sem ju zapustila.
– Oprostita, sedaj vaju razumem.
Objemale smo se in jokale. Bile smo skupaj in bile smo srečne. Bile smo eno. Prvič. V tistem trenutku je bilo to edino pomembno.
* * *
Prvič, ko mi je tekla kri in sem za nekaj časa izgubila zavest, sem se od Prvega odselila. Nisem šla k mami in tudi k babici ne. Seveda sem si takoj našla naslednjega moškega. Edino ta rešitev mi je padla na pamet in zdela se mi je odlična. Našla sem Drugega.
Tako Drugi, kot vsi za njim, so imeli svoja stanovanja. Kakršna koli so že bila. Vedno sem bila dobrodošla. Vsaj nekaj časa. Vsaj na začetku. Pri nekaterih prej, pri drugih kasneje, pa sem postala boksarska vreča, padala sem po stopnicah in se zaletavala v vrata. Vedno sem se odselila, ko se je to pričelo. Pri nekaterih pri prvem padcu, pri drugih potem, ko sem se komaj lahko izvlekla iz stanovanja.
* * *
Pri Tretjem mi je prvič prišlo na misel, da sem takšna, kot je moja mama. Pri Desetem mi je iz podzavesti vse bolj prodirala misel, da živim enako življenje kot moja mama. Takrat sem to misel še lahko odganjala. Pri Petnajstem sem že vedela, da počem vse po vzorcu, ki sem ga v svojem otroštvu videla. Vedela sem, da sem enako nemočna. Vedela sem, da sem enako vdana v svojo usodo.
Pričenjala sem verjeti, da nekaterim ni usojeno biti srečen. Počasi sem se prepričevala, da je takšno življenje edino možno. Na dno srca sem pokopala svoje otroške iluzije o lepšem življenju.
* * *
Mamo in babico sem velikokrat obiskovala. Vsako posebej. Včasih smo bile tudi vse tri skupaj. Vedno je bila vsaj ena od nas v neuglednem stanju. V stanju po padcu po stopnicah. Ali po tem, ko se je zaletela v vrata. Temu smo pravile neugledno stanje, ker z besedo nismo hotele niti omeniti pretepov.
Če česa ne rečeš na glas, potem se to ne dogaja. Potem to ne obstaja. Tega ni! Nikoli več nisem nobene izmed njiju gledala z obtožbami v očeh. Druga drugi smo s pogledi poklanjale le brezpogojno ljubezen.
* * *
Zadnji, kateremu sem se pustila pretepsti, je bil oče moje hčere. Ko me je zadnjič pretepel, še ni bila rojena. Takrat še nisem vedela, da že obstaja mala pikica v meni.
Pretepel me je tako, kot niti živali ne pretepeš. Do takrat sploh nisem vedela, da je lahko tako hudo. Iz sekunde v sekundo je bilo slabše. Bolj boleče. Bolj grozno. Stopnjevalo se je do neslutenih razsežnosti. Nato je v trenutku vse izginilo. In bilo mi je lepo. In bila sem srečna.
Prebudila sem se v bolnici. Po treh tednih. Z mamo in babico ob sebi. Z možnostjo preživetja.
* * *
Pogledala sem okoli sebe. Nisem vedela, kje sem. Ničesar nisem prepoznala. Nato sem ju zagledala. Pogled se mi je uprl v dva upadla, prejokana in utrujena obraza. V obeh sem prepoznala svoje poteze. V obeh se je zrcalilo moje življenje.
Po tem dogodku, ki sta ga obe začutili v istem trenutku, ni bilo konca solz sreče, smeha in joka. Nista si me upali dotakniti, zato sta se objemali in ljubkovali med seboj. Jokale in smejale smo se vse tri.
Vstopil je zdravnik in ju odgnal iz sobe. Bal se je zame. Mislil je, da ne bom prenesla takšne čustvene obremenitve. Ni vedel, da mi je mešanica smeha in joka povrnila vero v življenje.
* * *
Zdravnik me je gledal, kot da sem sama kriva za svoj način življenja. Kot da sem kriminalka, ki je kriva, da se uničuje. Kot da za to nimam pravice. Kot da iz veselja živim tako, kot živim.
– Imeli ste srečno. Lahko bi bilo mnogo huje. – Huje? – Seveda, lahko bi izgubili otroka. – Kakšnega otroka? Saj ga sploh nimam. Najbrž ste me s kom zamenjali. – Z nikomer vas nisem zamenjal. Imate otroka. V sebi. Prišel bo na svet čez šest mesecev.
Pogledala sem ga tako zmedeno, srečno in brezizhodno v istem trenutku, da se je samo obrnil in zapustil sobo. Čutila sem, da mu nekako ni vseeno zame.
* * *
Novica o pikici v meni me je streznila. Dejstvo, da pričakujem svojega otroka, mi je porodila željo, da spremenim svoje življenje. Odprla mi je oči, da sem pričela iskati rešitev. Mojemu otroku v življenju ne bo tako, kot je bilo meni. Prepričala sem se, da nesreče nimamo zapisane v genih. Pričela sem verjeti, da je vsak lahko srečen. Samo če hoče, če si to dopusti. Če se nauči biti srečen.
Prve misli in obljube so bile enostavne. Bila sem prepričana, da me nič ne bo omajalo pri tej odločitvi. Spremeniti to idejo v življenje je bilo dosti težje. A sem vztrajala. In na to sem ponosna.
* * *
Zgodbo, ki jo sedaj pripovedujem, občutim, kot da bi to doživel nekdo drug. Po komi so se mi v glavi stvari izgubile, premestile in spremenile. Vsega se spomnim. Vem, da so to moji spomini in da se je to dogajalo meni. A ni več spomina na bolečino, na strah, ne nemočnost. Vem, da sem se takrat bala, da me je do neskončnosti bolelo in da nisem bila sposobna temu ubežati. A tega ni več v moji glavi. Vse je le tako, kot da bi gledala film, v katerem je igralka do potankosti podobna meni. Ne vem, ali je to zaradi kome ali zaradi sreče. Sedaj sem namreč že nekaj časa zares srečna. Tako srečna, kot bi moral biti vsak. Kot bi se moral vsak na tem svetu naučiti biti srečen.
* * *
Sliši se kot v pravljici, a je bilo res tako.
Moj zdravnik se je zaljubil vame. Že takrat v bolnici. Na prvi pogled. A mi ni razkril svojih čustev. Vse je skrival pred mano.
Zavzel se je zame kot prijatelj. Prvič v življenju, da je nekdo, poleg moje mame in babice, naredil nekaj dobrega zame. Pomagal mi je poiskati primeren dom. Primerne ljudi, ki so mi pomagali. Primerno okolje, v katerem sem se naučila imeti rada sebe. In nato imeti rada svojo malo punčko. Počasi sem začenjala biti srečna. In v to svojo srečo sem potegnila tudi svojo mamo. In babico. Oni dve nista spremenili svojih življenj. A bili sta srečni zame in za mojo hčerko. Bili sta tudi srečni, ko smo bile vse štiri skupaj. Sami sebi sta počasi dopustili biti srečni. Moja hči pa je bila srečna že od rojstva.
* * *
Bolj je moja štruca rasla, bolj se mi je spreminjal pogled na svet. Vsak dan sem želela več in več zanjo. In tudi zase. Ugotovila sem, da bo ona imela več, če bom sama imela več. Več sreče, več prijateljev, več ljubezni. A tiste prave ljubezni. Tiste, ki sem se jo morala naučiti sprejeti.
Prav počasi sem spuščala zdravnika bliže in bliže k sebi in tudi on je počasi pričel razkrivati svoja čustva. Vedno bolj je bil moj. Vedno bolj sem si ga želela ob sebi. Zaljubila sem se vanj in nisem si več znala predstavljati življenja brez njega. Ko se je to zgodilo, me je prosil za roko. Poročila sva se in sva srečna. Tudi moja hči je srečna. In srečni so vsi ljudje okoli nas.
Sedaj se ne pogovarjam samo z mamo in babico. Sedaj se pogovarjam z vsemi. A ne samo tisto, kar je nujno potrebno. Pogovarjam se vse in o vsem, kar si želim. Kadar koli.
* * *
I heard words coming out of my daughter’s mouth: „No, Daddy, please don’t! That’s enough!”
The chills ran over me. My legs felt like being chopped off. I stiffened for a fraction of a moment. The next second I was dashing up the stairs into her room. I opened the door and looked in. The light in my eyes turned on again. I closed my eyes and once more started breathing. Then I leant against the wall and slowly glided towards the floor. I bent into folds, completely devoid of energy. I was like an old, thrown away rag.
My husband and daughter spotted me and both ran towards me. My husband embraced me, my daughter fell into my lap. They were laughing. They were happy and were frolicking about. In my lap my daughter was chattering away and my husband stroked my hair clinging to me. He wanted to pacify me. He didn’t want my daughter to notice how upset I was. My eyes brimming with tears, I looked at him and he smiled back clinging to me even more. Slowly a smile reappeared on my lips.
* * *
The first one hit me once and my Mum sent him packing right away. She didn’t think twice. The second one beat me up ten times before she decided to send him packing. The third one was beating my Mum as I just stood there watching. It took a long time before my Mum sent him packing. The fourth one beat us both. Then I stopped counting. The new ones kept coming. I do not remember most of them anymore. I mostly don’t even remember whether they were beating me or my Mum.
* * *
The men came and went. Their names weren’t important. They were numbers to me. The numbers felt like their names to me. Soon even the numbers became insignificant. It mattered only, whether I could call them daddy. I sort of adopted those ones. Those ones were the worst.
* * *
My Grandma told me she felt sorry for my Mum. She told me my Mum could have had a family just as she had one and that she could have a man who would take care of her like Grandpa did. That she could be happy as Grandma was. If only she wanted to. If only she wasn’t a rebel without a cause.
My Mum told me she was sorry for my Grandma. That Grandma could be free just as Mum was. That Grandma wouldn’t have to put up with Grandpa and his outbursts, as for Mum, she never let men treat her like that. That Grandma could be happy as Mum was. If only she wanted to. If only she wasn’t so old-fashioned.
* * *
They sat at the table, across each other, and I watched them from the corner of the room. They both had eyes covered with bruises, their clothes hardly concealing the rest. They had tears in their eyes, throwing heavy words at each other:
– Whore! Who beat you up this time? – Who’s asking? You, who let him beat you every time? You’re pathetic! – Don’t call me pathetic! You made me what I am. – I am what I am because of you. – Didn’t I raise you well? – You let him beat you in front of me. You let him beat me too. – At least you had a father. Your daughter doesn’t have one. –
– What was a father like that to me? And what would a father like that be to her? I rather see her not having a father than her being beaten up by her father. Or her father beating me in front of her. – You like her to see you being beaten up by all kinds of men, then? Many of them have hit her too, you won’t admit that, though. But it’s plain to see! You do not have to put it in words. – Well, just look at yourself!
I didn’t understand a thing. I loved them both. I wanted to cram them both into a bundle, throw the bundle over my shoulder and go to the other side of the world.
* * *
Everything is beautiful on the other side of the world. On the other side of the world there is a land flowing with milk and honey. On the other side of the world everybody’s happy. When I grow up, I will go to the other side of the world. When I grow up I will be the happiest girl in the world. On the other side of the world my fairytale will appear.
* * *
Grandma promised herself not to leave Grandpa, ever. For the children’s sake. Children have to have a father. She promised herself that, as she watched her mother. She promised herself that, as she had her first man.
Mum promised herself that her children will never have a father. A father who would beat them up. She promised herself that, as she watched her mother. She promised herself that before she had her first man.
I promised myself that my children will never get beaten. I also promised myself that nobody will beat me in front of them. I promised myself that, as I watched my Mum. I promised myself that, even before I had my first man.
* * *
Grandma kept her promise. She never left her husband. She was covered with bruised many times, though. The children often watched Grandpa beating her up. He never struck them. At least when they were still little. Grandma thought a father like him, was a good father.
My Mum kept her promise. I was her only child and my father never beat me. I have never met my father. Anyway, I was beaten up by some of her lovers. Usually the ones, I loved the most. She was being beaten up in front of me by all of them.
I kept my promise as well. My daughter is not beaten by her father. And she is not beaten by my lovers. She is not beaten by my husband. Nobody beats me up in front of her either.
* * *
I was finally fed up with everything on the day I came back from school and saw my Mum beaten up on the floor. She didn’t just have bruises as usual. She had punctured skin on her cheeks and a cut above the eye. The clothes hid plenty, too. It had never been so bad before. She had never looked so awful before. She couldn’t move, either. She lay slumped on the floor and made shallow breaths. It hurt less if she did that. I wanted to call an ambulance and the police but she objected. She didn’t want any of it. She wanted to recover all by herself again. She wanted to get on her feet alone.
I gave her an ultimatum. Either she let me help her, or I was leaving. For good. For the first time in my life I did exactly what I said I would.
* * *
I was looking at her. She was lying on the floor. Her face was hidden in her hands. We had been arguing for more than an hour and I was losing my temper:
– Mum, either I am taking you to the doctor’s or I am moving away this second and will forget all about you! – Don’t call anyone, it’s going to be alright! It looks worse than it is. Just let me sleep it off a bit and the wounds will heal eventually. You know that everything will be alright, it always is. It will be this time, too.
I didn’t listen to her anymore. I packed my bag with my things and left without saying a word.
* * *
I was terrified because I left her alone. I was afraid. I hated myself for not staying and helping her. I was afraid she wouldn’t make it but I knew she would. She always did, no matter how bad it was.
* * *
Anyway, I was glad to have kept my word. I believed my leaving her would change her. That my leaving home would sober her up. That she would finally make changes in her life. I wanted to share this insight and my happiness with somebody else. And my fear as well. I wanted to share all that with Grandma. We both wanted what was best for my Mum. Grandma also knew how to take care of me, always.
* * *
I ran all the way to Grandma’s place and tried to wipe the last sight of my Mum out of my mind. I reached the door. Finally, I would be able to forget about the beatings, at least for a little while. With Grandma by my side, I would finally be able to regain faith in a better future. I calmed down and rang the doorbell. Grandma opened the door. She looked exactly like my Mum, only her wounds had already healed:
– It’s not so bad. It’s OK. He transgressed, after two years. You can’t hold that against him.
I didn’t stay long enough to hear her finish. I turned away and ran away. The images of their beaten up faces wouldn’t leave me. They danced in front of my eyes the whole night through as I was sitting on a bench in the park’s darkest corner and waiting for the morning to come.
* * *
Of all the people in the world only my Mum and Grandma belonged to me. I talked to others, naturally, but only about what was urgent to discuss. Nobody liked me. I didn’t have any girl friends. Or boyfriends for that matter.
It was the same with my Mum. She only had Grandma and me. Mum didn’t consider men to be friends and couldn’t talk to them like that. Men had a different purpose in her life.
It was the same with Grandma as was with me and my Mum. She had my Mum and me. She and Grandpa had spent more than half of their lives together, but they were strangers.
The women in our family were born to tread the path of life as loners. No friends. No kindred spirits. The women stemming from our family tree would look after one another. We have that imprinted on our genes. I strongly believed in that, then.
* * *
Instead of finding friends or kindred spirits my Mum always found herself some other man. Somebody always had to be by her side. At least physically. She has never spent a day being alone since I can remember. Even before that she has never spent a day alone.
She thought she was doing a favour to us both. To me and to herself. So I wouldn’t have to be alone either. But it wasn’t like that. I didn’t have friends because of her. Nobody wanted to keep me company. And if somebody for some reason wanted to make friends with me, parents or teachers or other children convinced him not to. Why should anyone want to make friends with the whore’s daughter.
I didn’t understand my mother or her convictions until the day I moved away from her.
* * *
I didn’t get much sleep during the night spent at a park. My head hurt and I felt sick. In a state like this I went to the pubs. I was looking for the First One. Right then he was not the First One yet but that changed soon after.
Every time he saw me, he promised to take me in any time I wanted to. Under the condition I would let him do anything to me at any time of day. And do the chores. But he gave me a promise. He promised not to beat me. Not he. He is not like that at all.
* * *
I found him. He gladly took me by the hand and took me home. He didn’t hesitate to use me for what he had in mind when he wanted me to move into his place. Then he truly became the First One. I realised then what men want from a woman. And that they want it several times a day. And that they get it whether the woman wants it or not.
* * *
It turned out that the First One doesn’t know himself very well. Or maybe he changed after a year. All of a sudden he was not what he had promised to be, anymore. He started using me as a punching bag. I didn’t really get beaten up, I just expanded my list of services. I let him do anything he wanted to do to me. I let him use me the way he wanted to.
After each usage I watched myself in the mirror. I could barely look at myself but I had to watch. Seeing myself, I saw an image like those of Mum and Grandma when I last saw them. It was the image I was trying to escape. The image I hated. The image I found again. Or it found me.
* * *
After a year and a half I saw them again. They both looked fine. They were both in top shape. I was exactly like they were when I left them.
– Forgive me, I understand you now.
We embraced each other and cried. We were together and we were happy. We were as one. For the first time. It was the only thing that mattered then.
* * *
The first time I bled and lost consciousness for a few minutes, I moved away from the First One. I didn’t go to Mum’s or Grandma’s. It goes without saying that I found the next man in no time. I couldn’t think of anything else and it seemed a perfect solution. I found the Second One.
The Second One and all the man who came after had flats. Some kind of flats. I was always welcome. At least for a while. At least at the beginning. For some of them sooner, for others later, I became a punching bag, I started falling down the stairs and hitting the floor. I always moved out when it started. I left some of them after the first fall and others when I was barely able to crawl out of the apartment.
* * *
With the Third One, it occurred to me for the first time that I was just like my Mum. With the Tenth One, the thought that I lived a life, not any different from the one my Mum lives, started surfacing from my subconsciousness. Back then I could still suppress it. With the Fifteenth I already knew that I was following a pattern, which I acquired in my childhood. I knew I was helpless as she was. I knew I had come to terms with my fate as she had had.
I started to believe that some people are not meant to be happy. I started convincing myself that this was the only way of life imaginable. I buried my childhood illusions of a better life deep down into my heart.
* * *
I visited my Mum and Grandma many times. Each of them separately. Sometimes the three of us gathered. Each time one of us was in a disgraceful state. In a state after a fall down the stairs. Or after hitting the door. We called it the disgraceful state because we didn’t even want to mention the beatings.
* * *
If you don’t say something out loud, then it isn’t really happening. Then it doesn’t really exist. It is not there! I didn’t look at either of them accusingly anymore. Our looks bore only unconditional love for one another.
* * *
My daughter’s father was the last to beat me up. When he beat me up for the last time, she wasn’t born yet. I didn’t know then about the little spot growing inside of me.
He beat me up so badly, animals don’t get beat up like that. Until then I didn’t know it can get so bad. It was getting worse by the second. Getting even more painful. Getting even more terrible. It escalated beyond anything imaginable. Then suddenly everything vanished. And I felt fine. I was happy.
I woke up at a hospital. After three weeks. Mum and Grandma were by my side. I had a chance of survival.
* * *
I looked around. I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t recognise anything. And then I noticed them. I gazed at two sunken, puffy and tired faces. I recognised my features imprinted on these faces. They both mirrored my life.
They sensed all that and couldn’t stop crying tears of joy, laughing and crying again. They were afraid to touch me, so they embraced and caressed each other. But we all cried and laughed.
The doctor entered and drove them away from the room. He was afraid for me. He thought I wouldn’t be able to handle such an emotional strain. He didn’t know that a mixture of laughter and tears regained my faith in life.
* * *
The doctor looked at me as if I was to blame for my way of living. As if I was a criminal guilty of destroying myself. As if I didn’t have the right to destroy myself. As if it made me happy to live my life the way I did.
– You were lucky. It could have been much worse. – Worse? – Definitely. You could have lost the baby. – What baby? I don’t have a baby. You probably mistook me for somebody else. – I didn’t mistake you for anyone else. You have a baby. Inside yourself. Your baby will come to this world in six months’ time.
At that moment I looked at him all confused, happy and desperate, as he just turned away and left the room. I felt he somehow cared.
* * *
The news of the spot inside of me sobered me up. The fact that I was expecting a baby made me think about changing my life. My eyes opened and I started to look for a solution. I didn’t want my child to experience what I had experienced. I convinced myself that misery is not imprinted on our genes. I started to believe that everybody can be happy. If only they want to be happy, if they allow themselves to be happy. If they learn, how to be happy.
The first thoughts were very straightforward and the promises were easy to make. I was convinced that nothing would be able to influence my decision. To implement my ideas and change my life was much more difficult. But I insisted. And I am proud of it.
* * *
The story I am telling, feels like something that happened to somebody else. After the coma certain structures in my head were lost, transposed or changed. I still remember everything. I recognise memories of everything what had happened as my own. But I don’t remember the pain, the fear and the helplessness anymore. I know I was afraid then, that it hurt endlessly and that I was not able to escape it. But it’s all gone from my mind now. Everything seems like a film with a leading actress closely resembling me.
I don’t know what did it, the coma or the happiness. I have been really happy for some time now. Everyone should be so happy. Everyone in this world should learn how to be so happy.
* * *
It sounds like a fairy tale, but it really happened.
My doctor fell in love with me. Back then when I was at the hospital. Love at first sight. But he didn’t show me his feelings. He hid everything from me.
He developed special interest in me as a friend. For the first time in my life somebody, apart from my Mum and my Grandma, did something good for me. He helped me find a suitable home. Suitable people who helped me. A suitable environment in which I learnt how to love myself. And to love my little girl. I was beginning to be happy. I pulled my Mum into my happiness. And Grandma. They haven’t changed their lives. But they were happy for me and my daughter. They were also happy when the four of us were together. They were beginning to allow themselves to be happy. My daughter has been happy since the day she was born.
* * *
As my little bun was growing, my world perspective was changing. Every day I wanted to have more and more for her. And for myself. I realised that she will get more if I have more. More happiness, more friends, more love. The right kind of love. The kind of love I had to learn to accept.
I started letting the doctor closer and closer to me really slowly and he slowly started revealing his feelings for me. I felt he started to belong to me. I wanted to have him next to me and my desire for him grew. I fell in love with him and couldn’t imagine life without him. As we had come so far, he asked to marry me. We got married and we’re happy now. My daughter is happy as well. And all the people around us are happy.
I don’t just talk to Mum and Grandma anymore. I talk to everybody. Not just about what is urgent to discuss. I talk about everything and about all my wishes. At any time of day.
