“I’ll make you all regret this! You’ll suffer!” shouted my brother’s wife, Laura, furiously.
“But why, Laura? I gave you the entire amount. What are you complaining about?” My mother seemed puzzled by these threats from her daughter-in-law.
“Where is it written down that you gave the money? Do you have witnesses? A receipt? You owe Alex and me for half of this flat!” Laura insisted, standing firmly at the doorway.
“Listen, Laura. You better leave peacefully! I was a witness to the money transfer. Is that good enough for you? And say hello to my brother. He should really reign you in. Don’t come here again,” I intervened, unable to stay out of this contentious situation. My mom was vulnerable.
“You’ll regret this, and it’ll be too late by then! I’ll see a witch and curse you!” Laura shouted as she left.
After my father passed away, my brother and I convinced our mother to sell her house in the village and move in with me into my three-bedroom flat. I, recently widowed, was raising my five-year-old son, Edward, and was delighted to have her stay.
“Vera, would you mind if I gave Alex half the money from the house sale? He is my son after all. Laura keeps badgering him, saying he’s an inadequate husband, not providing well for the family,” Mom looked at me imploringly.
“Goodness, what’s the issue? Of course, give it to him! It’s fair,” I really did feel that way.
We invited Alex and Laura over, and I handed the money directly to them. But two years later, Laura showed up demanding more money, threatening us with curses.
I shut the door on her and forgot about it. For years, neither my brother nor Laura spoke to us. It was as if a black cat had crossed our path. Since then, misfortunes rained on us endlessly. We were besieged by troubles, as they say, “out of the frying pan and into the fire.”
My mom became bedridden, I developed an unknown illness, and my son Edward suffered from a severe eczema breakout. Misfortunes became regular. The flat, which smelled of medicine, was cursed with things breaking and falling apart. The wall clock stopped at odd hours. I, a police officer, had to retire early against my will, needing to care for my bedridden mom and treat my son intensely. Money started slipping through my fingers.
I turned my flat into a haven of violets, growing and selling them at the market. These little flowers saved us from debt. Relatives visited once a year, staying with us for a week, giving us their worn but clean clothes, and bringing food—meat, pasta, grains, flour. We were grateful beyond words. When they left, the cycle began anew.
Poverty, illness, apathy.
To lift my spirits and drive away negative thoughts, I made a small flowerbed outside. In spring, I planted simple seeds: snapdragons, flowering tobaccos, and marigolds. It became my only source of inspiration.
One day, my neighbor Michael passed by, glanced at my modest flowerbed, and said, “Good day, neighbor! Can I offer you some money for flowers? Buy more, make everyone envious.”
Uncertain, I shrugged. Michael left some money in my robe pocket, saying, “Take it, dear gardener! Don’t be shy. You’re making beauty for all of us.”
Inspired, I bought exotic flowers and shrubs. My flowerbed blossomed into a riot of color. Neighbors gasped at its beauty.
Michael often stopped by, admiring it, “Only someone with a good heart could grow such magnificent flowers.”
He frequently gifted me chocolates and ice cream, saying, “This is for you, Vera, for your tireless efforts.” I appreciated the attention from a stranger.
Years passed, and life gradually improved. My mother recovered, Edward’s skin cleared up, and I felt like a woman ready to love and be loved, unbothered by the autumn of my life.
Edward, having watched his grandmother’s struggles, decided to become a doctor. He was admitted to medical school with ease, working in a hospital alongside his studies. Soon, he started assisting in surgeries, and soon neighbors relied on him for diagnoses, injections, and drips.
Edward specialized in critical care.
My son and I did some renovations in the flat. Edward bought a second-hand car and planned to marry his colleague, Emma, a cardiologist. Life was calm and well.
Laura called recently, her voice hoarse, saying, “Hello, Vera. Could you visit me? I’m in the hospital.”
I went to the address. Entering the ward, I found her bed.
“What happened, Laura?” I was surprised at the sight of the frail woman, her eyes vacant.
“Here’s how it happened, Vera… Alex and I found a human skull in the woods while walking. We brought it home, cleaned, varnished it, and made it into an ashtray. Six months later, your brother died in an accident. Two months after that, our boy suffocated in the garage while drinking with friends. And here I am with pneumonia. God, why did we bring that cursed skull home? That’s when our misfortune began,” Laura sobbed bitterly.
“No, Laura, it started when you went seeking out dark sorcerers and witches. The skull was just another chapter,” I couldn’t help but say. She had brought so much harm to our family.
“You’re right, Vera. I confess. I cursed you, let my anger spread like black tar. It left me lonely. Forgive me. Let’s forget those foolish quarrels. In my youth, I had wings; now there’s a boomerang sticking in my back. I feel its burn,” Laura was despondent, reflective.
I told Edward everything. He was sympathetic, “Mom, let’s move Aunt Laura to my hospital. She’d get better care there. She’s still family.”
“Let’s do it, son,” I completely forgave Laura. She deserved pity, left alone to grieve, having lost both son and husband.
Michael proposed we combine our lives. He lived a floor above.
“Vera, move in with me. We’ll enjoy life together. You’re a widow; I’m a widower. We’ll have plenty to talk about. Agreed?”
“Yes, Michael,” I could hardly believe my unexpected happiness. It felt like a gift from the heavens, warming and brightening my soul.
Mom rejoiced for me, “See, Vera, your fate was near, inching closer, watching over you. You earned this happiness.”
Laura is recovering quickly and wants to visit. Should I invite her? I’ll discuss it with Edward and Michael…
