We Refused to Let Our Daughter Back Home — But why wouldn’t you let her in? — Veronica finally asked the question that had haunted her most. — You always let her in before… Her mother gave a bitter smile. — Because I’m scared for you, Nicky. You think we don’t notice how you shrink away when your sister barges in at night? How you hide your textbooks so she won’t ruin them? She looks at you and gets angry. Angry because you’re normal. You have another life ahead of you, and she drowned hers at the bottom of a bottle… Veronica hunched her shoulders over her open textbook — in the next room, the storm was starting all over again. Dad hadn’t even taken off his coat — he stood in the hallway clutching his mobile, yelling. — Don’t give me that nonsense! — he roared into the phone. — Where’s all your money gone? It’s only been two weeks since payday! Two weeks, Larissa! Tanya poked her head out from the kitchen, listened to her husband’s shouting, then asked, — Again? Valeriy just waved his hand and put the phone on speaker — at once, they heard sobbing. Veronica’s older sister could have softened a stone, but her parents had grown calluses after so many years of torment. — What do you mean, “he kicked you out”? — Valeriy began pacing the narrow hallway. — He’s right. Who would put up with your constant “states of nothingness”? Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re thirty, and you look like a battered stray. Veronica cracked her bedroom door open a couple of centimetres. — Dad, please… — the sobbing suddenly stopped. — He left all my things in the stairwell. I’ve got nowhere to go. It’s pouring out, freezing… can I come to you? Just for a few days to get a bit of sleep. Mum jerked forward, reaching for the phone, but Valeriy quickly turned away. — No! — he snapped. — You’re not setting foot here. We agreed last time, didn’t we? After you pawned the TV when we were away at the cottage, the door to this house was closed to you! — Mum! Mum, talk to him! — the phone screamed. Tanya covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders trembled. — Larissa, how could you… — she just said, not looking at her husband. — We took you to the doctor. You promised. The last treatment — they said it would last three years. You didn’t even make it a month! — Those “treatments” are rubbish! — Larissa snapped, her tone flipping from pitiful to aggressive. — They just suck money out of you! I’m suffering, can’t you see? Everything inside is burning, I can’t breathe! And you’re harping on about a television… He’s more sorry for it than me! I’ll get you a new one! — With what money? — Valeriy stopped, staring at a spot on the wall. — What money, when you’ve squandered every penny? Your mates lent it to you again? Or did you haul something more of his out of the flat? — It doesn’t matter! — snapped Larissa. — Dad, I’ve got nowhere to stay! You want me sleeping under a bridge? — Go to a shelter. Go anywhere, — his voice was cold and low. — But you’re not coming here. If I see you outside, I’ll change the locks. Veronica sat on her bed, knees hugged close. Usually, when her sister drove their parents into a rage, the anger would ricochet to her. — What are you doing just sitting there? On your phone again? You’ll turn out just like your sister, useless! — the same phrases she’d heard for three years. But tonight, nobody shouted at her. Nobody picked on her. Dad hung up, took off his coat and both parents went to the kitchen. Veronica crept softly out to the hallway. — Val, you can’t just turn her out like that, — her mother pleaded. — She’ll be lost. You know what she’s like when she’s… like that. She’s not herself… — Am I supposed to be responsible for her forever? — Dad slammed down the kettle. — I’m fifty-five, Tanya. I want to come home and just sit in an armchair. I don’t want to hide my wallet under a pillow! I don’t want to hear neighbours complaining about her showing up with a bunch of shady men and causing trouble! — She’s still our daughter, — Mum said softly. — She was a daughter until twenty. Now she’s just sucking the life out of us. She’s an alcoholic, Tanya. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want it. She likes this life. Wake up, find a bottle, and forget it all! The phone rang again. The parents hesitated, then Dad picked up. — Hello. — Dad… — it was Larissa, again. — I’m at the station. The police are walking around. If I stay, they’ll pick me up. Please… — Listen carefully, — he cut her off. — You’re not coming home. End of story. — So what then, should I just kill myself? — a pitiful threat in her voice. — Is that what you want? The morgue calling you next?! Veronica froze. This was Larissa’s “ace” when other tricks failed. It used to work: Mum would cry, Dad would reach for his heart, and her sister would get money, a bed, a meal, a clean-up. Not tonight. — Don’t threaten us, — Dad said. — You love yourself too much for that. Here’s what will happen… — What? — hope flickered in Larissa’s voice. — I’ll find you a room. The cheapest on the edge of town. I’ll pay one month’s rent. Give you some food money. That’s it. After that — you’re on your own. Find a job, get your act together and you’ll cope. If not — you’re back on the street and I won’t care. — A room?! Not even a flat? Dad, I can’t be alone. It’s scary. And what if the neighbours are dodgy? How am I supposed to manage with nothing? I’ve not even got bedding — that… so-and-so’s kept everything! — Your mum’ll pack bedlinen. We’ll leave it with the concierge. Pick it up outside. Don’t come up. I’ve said enough. — You devils! — screamed Larissa. — Your own daughter, kicked out! You’ve got your three-bed flat, and I’m meant to scurry around like a rat?! Mum finally lost it and grabbed the phone. — Larissa, that’s enough! — she yelled, Veronica jumped. — Dad’s right! It’s your last chance. Room or the street. Decide — tomorrow we won’t even do that! Silence on the line. — Fine, — Larissa muttered. — Just send me the address. And some money — to my card, right now. I’m hungry. — No money, — said Dad. — I’ll buy food and leave it in the bag. I know “what” you’ll spend it on. He hung up. Veronica decided it was time. She entered the kitchen, pretending she’d just come for a drink. She braced herself for a cascade of frustration — Dad would criticise her T-shirt, Mum would complain she didn’t care, was wandering around the house in the middle of a crisis… But her parents didn’t even turn. — Veronica, — said her mother quietly. — Yes, Mum? — In the wardrobe, top shelf, are some old sheets and pillowcases. Could you get them, please? Pack them into the blue holdall from the cupboard. — Okay, Mum. Veronica went off to do it, emptying out the old bag. She wondered how Larissa could possibly cope alone. The last time she’d cooked, she nearly ruined the kitchen. And… the drinking… Veronica knew her sister wouldn’t manage even two days. Back in her parents’ bedroom, Veronica climbed up for the linen. — Don’t forget the towels! — called Dad from the kitchen. — Already packed, — Veronica replied. She saw him gather coats, the bag and food bundles, and disappear without a word. He was clearly off to find that “hole” for Larissa. Veronica went to the kitchen, where her mum sat motionless. — Mum, do you want a pill? — she asked softly. Mum looked up, her voice flat. — You know, Nic… when she was small, I thought she’d grow up to be my helper. That we’d chat about everything. Now I just hope she remembers the address. Just makes it there… — She’ll manage, — Veronica squeezed her mum’s hand. — She always pulls through. — Not this time, — Mum shook her head. — Her eyes are different. Empty. Like there’s nothing left but the shell. I know you’re scared of her, too. Veronica was silent. She’d always thought her parents didn’t care how afraid she was — too busy saving “lost” Larissa. — I thought you didn’t care about me, — she whispered. Mum stroked her hair. — We do care. We just have no strength left. Like they say on airplanes: put your own mask on before the child’s. We’ve spent ten years trying to put the mask on her. Ten years, Nic! Priests, clinics, expensive courses, you name it. Now, we’re suffocating ourselves. A ring at the door. Veronica jumped. — Is that her? — she asked, fearful. — No, your dad’s got the keys. It’ll be the food delivery. Veronica opened the door to the courier, carried heavy bags to the kitchen, and unpacked grains, tinned food, oil, tea, sugar — nothing extraneous. — She won’t eat this, — she said about the buckwheat. — She likes ready meals. — If she wants to live, she’ll learn to cook, — Mum said with sudden determination. — We can’t baby her to the grave. An hour later, Dad returned, worn out. — Found it, — he growled. — Keys’re with me. The landlady’s a retired teacher — very strict. Says if she smells a whiff or hears a noise, Larissa’s out. I told her — do it at once. — Val… — sighed Mum. — What? No more lying. She deserves to know. He grabbed the bag and food, heading out. — I’ll leave these for the concierge. I’ll call her, tell her where to find them. Veronica, lock up behind me and if the phone rings, don’t answer. Dad left. Mum locked herself in the kitchen and sobbed. Veronica’s heart ached. How did it come to this? Her sister just drifting from one drink to the next, tormenting everyone… *** Her parents’ hopes were dashed — a week later, Valeriy got a call. The landlady had thrown Larissa out with the police’s help. She’d brought three men back and partied all night. Still, the parents didn’t abandon their daughter — Larissa was taken to a locked rehabilitation centre. They promised a year would change her. Maybe, just maybe, a miracle will happen…

Not Allowed Home

Why didnt you let her in? I finally asked my mother, the question Id been holding in for so long. You always used to before

Mum gave a bitter little smile.
Because Im afraid for you, Victoria. Do you think we dont see how you shrink into the corner when your sister traipses in at all hours? How you hide your schoolbooks so that she wont ruin them? She looks at you and shes angryangry because youre normal. Youve got another life ahead of you, and she drowned hers in drink years ago…

I hunched my shoulders, staring at my open textbook, as another row began in the next room.

Dad hadnt even taken off his coat. He stood in the middle of the hall, clutching his mobile, shouting down the line.

Dont try and pull the wool over my eyes! he bellowed. Wheres it all gone? Its only been two weeks since I was paid! Just two weeks, Lisa!

Mum poked her head into the hall, listening to Dads rant. Then she asked quietly,
Again?

Dad just waved her off and switched to loudspeaker. From the phone came sobbing and wailing.

Lisa, my older sister, could have made a stone feel sorry for her with her whining.

But after years of suffering, Mum and Dad had built themselves a thick skin.

What do you mean, hes thrown you out? Dad said, striding up and down the narrow hallway. Good for him. Whos going to put up with you being in that state forever? Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror? Youre thirty and you look like a battered dog.

I gingerly cracked my bedroom door, peering out.

Dad, please Lisas crying abruptly stopped. Hes chucked my stuff into the stairwell. Ive nowhere to go. Its cold and raining out. Can I come home for a few nights? Just to get some sleep.

Mum jerked forward as if to grab the phone, but Dad turned away sharply.

No, he said, his voice like steel. Youre not setting foot in this house. We had a deal, didnt we? After you pawned the telly while we were away, that was itthe door is closed to you.

Mum! Mum, please, say something! Lisa cried.

Mum covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking.

Lisa, how did it come to this Mum said softly, not looking at Dad. We took you to the clinic. You promised. They said the last treatment would last three years. You didnt even make a month!

All those fancy procedures are rubbish, Lisa snapped, her mood flipping from pitiful to furious in a heartbeat. They just want to bleed you dry. Im suffering! I feel like Im burning inside, like I cant breathe! And youre talking about a television. You care more about that than me! Ill get you a new one!

With what money? Dad stopped and stared at a spot on the wall. What money, when youve wasted every penny? Or did you borrow off those friends of yours again? Or help yourself to something else from that boyfriends flat?

It doesnt matter! Lisa shouted. Dad, Ive nowhere to live! Do you want me to sleep under a bridge?

Go to a shelter. Go wherever you like, Dads voice was cold and calmworryingly so. But youre not coming here. If I see you hanging about the door, Ill change the locks.

I sat on my bed, hugging my knees.

Usually in moments like these, when Lisa had driven Mum and Dad to white-hot fury, the anger would ricochet onto me.

What are you doing just sitting there? On your phone again? Youll turn out just like your sister! Things Id grown used to hearing these last three years.

But tonight, theyd forgotten about me.

No one yelled at me, no one snapped. Dad put down the phone, finally took off his coat, and both my parents went to the kitchen.

I crept into the hallway.

You cant just abandon her, Alan, Mum was trying not to sob. Shell be lost, completely lost. You know how she gets when shes like this. She cant control herself.

Am I supposed to control her then? Dad banged the kettle onto the hob. Im fifty-five, Diane. I just want to come home and sit down in peace. I dont want to hide my wallet under my pillow. I dont want grumbling neighbours telling me she was seen outside with dodgy blokes, mouthing off at them!

Shes still our daughter, Mum said softly.

She stopped being a daughter at twenty. Now shes just a burden dragging the life out of us. Shes an alcoholic, Diane. You cant help someone who doesnt want it. She likes this life. Wakes up, finds a bottle, drinks herself numb.

The phone rang again.

My parents stopped dead, then Dad answered.

Yes?

Dad It was Lisa again. Im sitting in the train station. The police are patrolling. If I stay, theyll arrest me. Please

Listen carefully, Dad cut her off. You are not coming home. Period.

So youd rather I kill myself then? Her voice was loaded with accusation. Is that it? Want the morgue calling you up?

I froze. This was Lisas trump cardshe always played it when nothing else worked.

It always used to do the trick. Mum would start sobbing, Dad would clutch at his chest, and theyd let Lisa stay, give her money, feed her, clean her up.

But not tonight.

Dont threaten, Dad said calmly. You love yourself too much for that anyway. Heres what Ill do.

What? Lisas voice flickered with hope.

Ill find you a bare room, right on the edge of town. Ill pay one months rent. Ill give you a bit of money for groceries. Thats it. After that, youre on your own. Find a job, sort yourself outyou can live. If notafter a month, youre out on the street and its not my problem.

A room? Just a room, not a flat? Dad, I cant do this on my own. Im scared. What if the neighbours are nasty? How can I rent without anything? I dont even have any bedding; he kept it all!

Mum will pack you some sheets and bring it to the caretaker. Pick it upyoure not coming upstairs, I warned you.

Youre youre monsters! Lisa screeched. Kicking your own daughter out! Into some hovel! You get to sit in your nice three-bed while I skulk in corners like a rat?!

Mum couldnt take itshe grabbed the phone.

Lisa, thats enough! she shouted so fiercely that I jumped. Dads right! This is your one chance. Either take the room or its the street. Decide now, because tomorrow hes not even paying for that room.

There was silence on the other end.

Fine, Lisa muttered at last. Send me the address. And can you send me some money on my card? Im starving.

No chance, Dad replied flatly. Ill buy you food and send it in a bag. I know exactly what youll spend food money on.

He hung up.

I thought it was time to appear. I slipped into the kitchen, pretending I only wanted a drink.

I waited for the usual torrent of their pent-up irritation: Dad criticizing my scruffy jumper, Mum rebuking me for not caring about anything, for drifting around the house as if nothing was wrong.

But my parents didnt even turn their heads.

Vicky, Mum said quietly.

Yes, Mum?

There are some old sheets and pillowcases on the top shelf in the cupboard. Could you get them down for me and pack them in that blue holdall from the box room?

Alright, Mum.

I went to do as she asked. I found the bag and emptied out a load of junk. I couldnt help wonderinghow was Lisa going to live on her own? She couldnt even cook pasta, and her habit

I knew she wouldnt last two days without a bottle.

I returned, hauling myself onto a stool to fetch the linen.

Dont forget towels! Dad called from the kitchen.

Ive already packed some, I called back.

I saw him pull on his shoes and head out, not saying a word. Off, no doubt, to find the hovel.

I went back into the kitchen. Mum hadnt budged from her chair.

Mum do you need a tablet? I asked softly, coming closer.

She looked up at me.

You know, Vicky, she began, her voice dull and flat, when she was little, I thoughtone day shell help me with everything. Well talk about all sorts together. And now I just sit here hoping she remembers that room address, that she at least makes it there.

Shell make it, I said, perching on the edge of a chair. She always finds a way.

She wont, not this time. Mum shook her head. Her eyes are different now. Empty. Like theres nothing inside and all she needs is another fix. I see how much youre afraid of her.

I fell silent. Id always thought my parents didnt notice my feartoo absorbed in saving Lisa.

I thought you didnt care about me, I admitted, barely more than a whisper.

Mum reached out and stroked my hair.

We do care. Were just spent, Vicky. You know the saying on airplanes? Put your own mask on first before helping your child. For ten years we tried to put the mask on her. Ten years, love. We tried everythingdoctors, healers, expensive clinics. In the end, we nearly suffocated ourselves.

There was a ring at the door. I jumped.

Is that her? I asked, terrified.

No, your fathers got the keys. Must be the grocerieshe ordered some in.

I answered the door, and the delivery man handed over two heavy shopping bags. I brought them into the kitchen and unpacked themrice, tinned food, oil, tea, sugar. Nothing extra.

She wont touch any of this, I commented, pushing aside a pack of porridge oats. She only wants ready meals.

If she wants to live, shell have to cook, Mum said sharply, some of her old resolve back in her voice. Weve spoilt her long enough. Pity will see her into an early grave.

An hour later, Dad returned, looking beyond exhausted.

Found one, he muttered. Here are the keys. The landladys a dragonretired teacher. Told me first whiff or noise and shes out, no argument. I told her, Chuck her out straight away if you need to.

Oh, Alan Mum sighed.

What, Diane? Time to stop fooling people. She needs to know.

He grabbed the bag of linen, the shopping bags, and headed out again.

Ill drop these with the caretaker. Ill call Lisa, tell her where to get them. Vicky, double lock the door behind me. If the home phone rings, dont answer.

Dad left, Mum locked herself in the kitchen and sobbed.

My heart clenched painfully. How could it be? All that drinking, she wasnt even livinga shadow haunting us all, giving Mum and Dad no peace

***

Our hopes didnt come offa week later the landlady called Dad and said shed had to throw Lisa out, with the police. Lisa had brought three men back to the room for an all-night binge.

But my parents still couldnt abandon herLisa was sent to a rehab centre, a strict, secure place that promised to cure addictions in a year.

Maybejust maybethere was still hope for a miracle.