THE ECHO OF THE PAST
“Who is that woman?” whispered David to Claire, ensuring the other passengers couldn’t hear him.
“Which woman?” Claire looked up from her phone where she was texting her friend.
“Over there… Do you see? By the last window, she keeps staring at us. To be honest, she’s shamelessly gawking.”
Claire stood slightly to see the woman David mentioned, and her face instantly changed. Then she quickly masked her emotions, shrugging her shoulders to feign indifference. “No idea.”
“Don’t lie,” David sounded frustrated, “You changed completely when you saw her. Who is she?”
“She’s my mother,” Claire admitted after a brief hesitation. She decided it was best to be truthful, just in case.
“Your mother?” David was astonished. “But you always said you didn’t have a mother.”
“I don’t…”
“I’m confused,” David searched Claire’s face for answers, “Care to explain?”
“Let’s talk about it at home…”
“Aren’t you going to talk to her? Does she live nearby? In our city?”
“Please, David, let’s discuss this at home,” Claire pleaded, tears welling in her eyes.
“Fine,” David turned towards the window, clearly hurt.
Claire didn’t try to console him. She was relieved to have been left alone for a moment. But solace was hard to come by. Memories from childhood began to flood her mind…
Claire never knew her father. According to her mother, he was a “terrible” person.
But her mother always said Claire was lucky to have a wonderful stepfather in her life. Claire remembered him from when she was about eight. She didn’t understand what was so wonderful about him though.
Rude, malicious, and greedy. Young Claire often wondered why her mother adored him. She’d hide in corners to avoid him.
He never struck her or openly insulted her but regarded her as insignificant, never calling her by name.
When talking to his wife about Claire, his comments went something like this:
“The girl doesn’t know how to behave…”
“Your daughter disturbs my peace…”
“Explain to her it’s too soon to hang out with boys.”
“Have you seen her report card? Look at it! I’m ashamed she lives in my house!”
“In his house? Isn’t this our flat from when grandma passed?” Claire thought during her teenage years. She vividly remembered moving there with her mother after her grandmother’s death.
One day, when her stepfather repeated himself for the thousandth time, Claire snapped and told him directly, “It’s you living in our house! If you don’t like it, leave! No one will cry over it!”
Her stepfather rushed towards her, as if to silence her, but suddenly stopped. Turning sharply towards his wife, he forced through gritted teeth, “Make sure I never see her again!”
Claire’s mother dragged her out of the room, saying, “Of course, dear, we’ll do as you wish…” She always obeyed him, serving him reverently, and strived to please him for reasons Claire couldn’t fathom.
Claire was sure that if he wished, her mother would easily throw her out of the house. “What are you thinking?” her mother hissed at Claire that day. “Don’t speak that way to your father!”
“He’s not my father!” Claire shouted back, “And he never will be!”
“That doesn’t matter! He feeds, clothes, and shelters you, and you… Ungrateful!”
“I never asked to be born!” Claire cried through tears. “I didn’t ask to be kept! You should’ve given me to someone else to avoid the burden!”
“You’re right!” her mother retorted, “No one wanted you! And your father left as soon as you were born! You ruined my life!”
Hearing this, Claire felt overwhelming hatred and pushed her mother aside, sprinting out of the flat.
No one chased after her or checked on her the week she was gone. She was only fifteen at the time… What could she do? Nothing.
Friends took turns housing her a few days each, but it didn’t solve the problem. She had to return.
With trembling hands, Claire opened the door…
“Back, are you?” was all her mother said. “Go to your room and stay put until I call you.”
“Must have convinced him,” Claire thought, quickly sneaking into her room.
From then on, her stepfather acted as if she didn’t exist. Her mother supported him, never inviting Claire to meals, asking about her, or conversing with her.
Claire understood they’d made a decision about her, likely waiting for her to finish school…
And she wasn’t wrong. As soon as Claire graduated, her mother hinted it was time she prepared for independence.
“As soon as you turn eighteen, you’ll fend for yourself,” she declared, then fell silent again.
Claire decided to apply to university. Not only would she free her family from her presence, but students from other towns were provided accommodation. At least for the next five years, she’d have a place to live…
But she didn’t get into university. Or rather, she did, but only the tuition-based program. She knew her family wouldn’t pay for her studies, but she still informed them:
“Mum, congratulate me, I’m a university student.”
Her mother looked at her indifferently. “And?”
“There’s a fee for the courses… It’s not much…”
“Don’t even think about it. You won’t get a penny for your antics! Isn’t it enough what your father and I invested in you?! You’ve only given us grief! Now you want us to pay for your education too?!”
“Sorry. Of course, you shouldn’t,” Claire replied. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Exactly: you shouldn’t have. Start searching for a flat.”
“Mum, I can’t afford to pay for one…”
“Get a job then. You’re not going to simply study. You have a month… After that, you’re out.”
“A month isn’t enough,” Claire tried to sway her mum for more time, “How about at least another six months with you?”
“Six months? No. I barely convinced your father to tolerate your presence this long. We’re planning a renovation. We want to turn your room into a bedroom. A month, no more.”
And so Claire rented a flat. It could barely be called that. A tiny shack in a private sector, lacking conveniences, with a stove. But it was cheap…
When she moved out, her mother handed her a fork, spoon, plate, cup, knife, and a small pot. After some thought, she added a towel and an old set of bed linen.
“Here, take this too,” she said, avoiding Claire’s eyes while giving her a small packet. “Good luck, my child. I hope you’ll grow up and understand me.”
“Thanks, Mum,” Claire replied, “I’ll pick up my winter clothes later?”
“Don’t delay, or they might not be here…”
“Would you throw them out?”
“I wouldn’t, but your father might not like it. You understand…”
“I understand,” Claire embraced her mother, “Alright, I’m off…”
Thus, at eighteen, Claire embarked on her independent journey, with her mother’s blessing.
The money her mother gave lasted until her first paycheck. Claire was frugal, didn’t even use public transport, and walked to the factory where she worked.
With her first salary, she felt like a millionaire! She stocked up on grains, pasta, some cooking oil, and a whole sack of potatoes.
There were toiletries to buy as well: shampoo, soap, toothpaste…
After buying essentials, Claire counted her remaining money and tucked a small amount into a pretty envelope, deciding to gradually save for a place of her own.
About a month later, Claire visited her mother—to catch up (still naively believing her mother would be happy to see her) and to retrieve her warm clothes as autumn was turning chilly.
A young man opened the door.
“Hey, mistaken the door?” he asked cheerfully.
“I’m here to see my mum,” Claire replied, flustered.
“Ah… You must be Claire? Come on in. Mum’s not here, but you can wait for her.”
“I will,” Claire decisively headed to the kitchen.
The guy tried to chat, but Claire’s glare made him quickly withdraw.
Her mother returned, showing no real excitement. When Claire asked about the young man, her mother replied, “That’s Jake. Stepdad’s son from his first marriage.”
“Why is he living here? You planned on renovating.”
“He’s just here for a bit. Looking for work and then he’ll move to private quarters.”
“Got it,” Claire said, gathering her shoes and coat.
“Take everything. No point in leaving anything. Tired of shifting things around.”
“Mum, I’ve only been gone two months.”
“Don’t get smart,” her mother snapped. “You’re here—take it all.”
“Aren’t you going to ask how I’m doing?”
“I don’t care,” her mother seemed unable (or unwilling) to converse with Jake around.
Claire, unsurprised, headed to the hallway…
“Need help carrying your big bag?” Jake appeared. “How will you manage?”
“I’ll figure it out,” Claire said, stepping out of the flat…
In another couple of months, she returned for her winter coat. Again, Jake opened the door. This time, her mother was home, and when Claire questioned, “He’s still here?” her mother snapped:
“None of your business! He’ll stay here as long as he wants! He’s come to see his father!”
“And I lived here with my mum,” Claire remarked, “yet that didn’t save me.”
“Don’t compare! It’s different!”
“How so?” Claire asked firmly.
“I’m not accountable to you!” her mother shouted, “This is my house, and I will decide who resides here.”
“Understood.”
“What do you understand?”
“That a stranger means more to you than your daughter,” Claire said calmly, which infuriated her mother further.
“I don’t have a daughter!” she shouted. “And Jake is my beloved man’s son! He’s more family than you!”
“Congratulations,” Claire replied, looking at her mother as if she were a stranger. “In that case, I have no mother.” She left, sure it was for good.
For four years, Claire vanished from their lives. No calls, no visits.
And now, this encounter…
While Claire was lost in her memories, her mother approached and sat next to her. David stood up, offering his seat.
“Hello,” Claire heard the familiar voice she tried hard to forget.
“Hi,” she managed to say.
“Who’s that?” her mother nodded towards David.
“My husband.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“We’re doing well too. Dad’s working, and Jake found a girlfriend. Really nice and calm. The wedding is next month. I’m going to be a grandma soon. Such happiness! We’re planning to turn your room into the nursery. Started redecorating. Bought expensive wallpaper with a children’s theme. We’re looking for a country house nearby—fresh air is good for the baby. Needs to be affordable, with a nice little home, preferably by a stream or lake…”
Claire listened to this woman, who was essentially a stranger, and couldn’t fathom why she was telling her all this.
“You’ve been married long?”
“Two years,” Claire replied automatically.
“Thinking about kids?”
“Our son is almost a year old.”
“So, I have a grandson?”
“Do you?” Claire finally turned to her mother.
“I do,” her mother faltered, “You are my daughter.”
“I think you’re mistaken, lady. My mother passed away four years ago…”
Her mother went pale, silently rising and heading for the exit.
Claire turned to the window; she felt nothing for… this woman.
David, having watched and listened, realized that they were essentially strangers.
And he decided he wouldn’t press Claire about her past. Somehow, the thought of delving there terrified him…
