The Family Unseen
— Mum, what’s that letter you keep hiding?
— Oh, it’s from the countryside, from Grandpa, — she waved a hand and continued preparing dinner.
— We have a Grandpa? You always said there was no one left on your side…
Mum paused chopping vegetables briefly, then resumed with twice the speed.
— Well, there is… so what? Years ago, they didn’t need me, and now I have to drop everything to help.
She began to cry, and I didn’t know what to say. In our family, her past was a hushed topic. All I knew was that Mum moved to the city right after school, worked, studied, lived in a dorm, and then I was born. My father left us before I was even born.
Mum harbored a grudge against her relatives. And I had no one to ask what truly happened all those years ago.
When evening came, and Mum was asleep, I quietly took the letter from her room and read it. The handwriting was neat and elegant, clearly not from an old, sick person. The letter said Grandpa was bedridden and in need of proper care and expensive medication. They asked Mum to let go of past grievances and pride because a person’s life was at stake.
There was no signature. I glanced at the address. This village wasn’t far from our city, a friend of mine had a country house a few miles from it. A chill ran down my spine… I often visited her, and Grandpa lived nearby all along. Why didn’t Mum tell me?
The next morning, I packed for university as usual, but also took some money and a change of clothes. I headed to the bus station.
Stepping off the bus, I took a deep breath of the crisp, clear country air, as pure as a tear. The journey to the old, leaning house wasn’t long, standing just a few yards from the bus stop. Opening the gate, I walked into the yard.
— Who are you here to see? — a voice called. Under an apple tree sat a woman in her forties, sorting freshly picked mushrooms.
— I’m here for Simon Andrews, he’s my grandfather.
— Ah, then you’re Shura’s girl, — she smiled — well, hello! Come on in, I’ll put the kettle on. Granddad dozed off after lunch. He’s feeling a bit better.
The cottage was cozy and smelled of pies. While the woman busied herself in the kitchen, I took a closer look at her. She resembled Mum strikingly: the same slanted eyes, pitch-black hair, even her speech carried a similar intonation. My eyes wandered to a portrait on the wall, a faded photograph of a smiling couple with two little girls who looked very much alike.
Catching my gaze, the woman said:
— That’s us with your mum and our parents. I’m Sophie, her sister and your aunt, — she smiled.
— Nice to meet you. Why haven’t I heard about you? Mum insisted we had no family.
She sighed, sat at the table, and began pouring tea into cups.
— Your mum holds a grudge against us. I was born frail, was often ill, our mum spent all her time in hospitals with me, naturally, our dad worked day and night to support us and pay for my treatment. Shura lived with grandma at first, then frequently stayed with neighbors. Naturally, most parental attention went to me. From a young age, she convinced herself nobody loved her, even when things improved. After graduating, Shura moved to the city, and we haven’t seen her since.
She sighed again and added.
— Drink your tea, you must be hungry from the journey. My kids will soon be home and devour everything. I’ve two: Alice and Leo, raising them on my own. They’ve long asked if there are more relatives, they’ll be thrilled…
That evening, I met Grandpa and my cousins. Everyone was so welcoming, and I finally understood what they meant by a big, close-knit family gathered around a table. I stayed for a few more days and bought the necessary medicines.
Mum called several times demanding I return home immediately, but I couldn’t leave Grandpa, and Auntie was stretched too thin to work and care for him alone.
— You’ll blow the budget, who’s paying for your education then? — Mum shouted over the phone — I did everything for you, stayed up nights raising you, and where are you now? With people who did nothing for us.
“Mum, what are you talking about? You didn’t even share your address for fifteen years… Strangers, family… He’s my Grandpa first. It’s time to let bygones be bygones… He needs care, attention. If you aren’t coming, I will. Besides, you’ve a wonderful sister and lovely nephews. You’re wrong, Mum…”
She hung up countless times, angry, redialed, but our conversations led nowhere.
After a week, I returned to the city to continue my graduation year, though my heart remained elsewhere.
The money I earned from posting ads and tutoring a few hours each week went to the countryside. But it was mere pennies…
My relationship with Mum felt strained, like taut strings. She even hid my passport once, trying to keep me in the city over the holidays instead of visiting the village.
The year flew by in a blur of chaos, worries, constant arguments, and disagreements.
With my diploma in hand, I packed up and left then and there.
In the village, Aunt Sophie helped me find a job at the local school, and life found its rhythm. Grandpa was on his feet, taking short walks in the garden, and he was so happy to see me. Yet, his eyes remained sad, waiting for his daughter…
September filled my life with bustle and joy. I had a class of first-graders who I adored, and I’d rush to work every day as if it were a celebration. Meanwhile, I noticed our history teacher seemed interested in me. He too had recently graduated from a city university and ended up in the village, like me, which was unusual, since most people are eager to go to the city.
“Amy, you shouldn’t ignore Alex,” my aunt would whisper — He’s a good guy, skilled, and he’s built such a lovely house. He didn’t stay in the city because his grandmother’s here all alone, being an orphan himself, so they live together.
Soon, Alex asked me out, and a romance blossomed. He became part of our family, Grandpa approved of him, and when Alex proposed, Grandpa gave us his blessing.
We set the wedding date for late April. I wrote to Mum well in advance. No reply came. I was hurt that on such an important day, she wouldn’t be by my side…
On the evening before the wedding, as Aunt Sophie, my two friends, and I were bustling in the kitchen, preparing for the festivities, there was a soft knock at the door…
I hurried to open it. Mum stood in the doorway. Seeing me, she broke into tears.
—I… I’m not here for long, just came to congratulate you…
I invited her in, but she hesitated. Right then, Aunt Sophie came rushing from the kitchen, and Grandpa, hearing our voices, appeared.
He embraced his daughter, and they stood together for a long while, wiping each other’s tears. Grandpa murmured something to Mum in a hush, and she wept…
For many years now, I’ve been living in the village, part of a big, loving family, with children growing up and still teaching primary school. Most importantly, I’ve found the family Mum once perceived as strangers. Mum didn’t leave afterwards, reconciling with her father and sister, and what happened in the past remains there, in the past…
