A COUNTER-STRIKE
“Jane, who is that woman?” Michael whispered quietly so their fellow passengers wouldn’t overhear.
“Which woman?” Jane looked up from her phone, where she had been texting a friend.
“Over there… see, the one by the last window, staring at us. I’d even say she’s shamelessly glaring.”
Jane rose slightly to catch a glimpse of the woman Michael was talking about, and her expression changed immediately. She quickly masked her reaction, shrugging her shoulders indifferently.
“I don’t know her,” she said.
“Don’t lie,” Michael said angrily. “I saw how your face changed when you saw her. Who is she?”
“That’s my mother,” Jane admitted after a pause. For a moment, she decided it was better to tell the truth, just in case.
“Your mother?” Michael was astonished. “You always said you didn’t have one.”
“I don’t…”
“I don’t understand,” Michael scrutinized Jane’s face with curiosity. “Can you explain?”
“Let’s talk about it at home…”
“And you’re not even going to go over to her? Does she live here? In our city?”
“Michael, please, can we talk about this at home?” Jane pleaded, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Alright,” Michael said briskly, turning to look out the window. He felt offended.
Jane didn’t bother to comfort him. She was grateful to be left alone, at least for a little while.
But there was no peace to be found. Her mind raced back to memories of her childhood…
***
Jane couldn’t remember her father. All she knew, from what her mother told her, was that he was a “terrible” person.
Her mother always said that Jane was lucky to have a wonderful person in her life: her stepfather. Jane remembered him well from the age of eight, but she couldn’t see what was so wonderful about him. He was rough, mean, and stingy. “Why does Mom love him so much?” young Jane often wondered, huddling in a corner to avoid being found by Uncle Peter.
No, he never hit her or openly insulted her, but he didn’t treat her like a person either. He never called her by name, looking at her as if she were invisible.
When discussing Jane with her mother, his words would be something like:
“The girl doesn’t know how to behave…”
“Your daughter is disturbing my peace…”
“Tell her she’s too young to hang out with boys.”
“Have you seen her grades? I’m ashamed that she lives in my house!”
“In his house! What about it being mine and Mom’s apartment?” teenage Jane often thought, remembering how they moved into the flat after her grandmother passed away.
Once, when her stepfather repeated his usual claim, Jane couldn’t hold back and told him directly:
“It’s not I, but you who live in our house! If you don’t like it, leave! No one will cry over it!”
Her stepfather rushed at her as if to silence her, but stopped abruptly. He turned sharply to her mother, saying through clenched teeth:
“Make sure I never see her again!”
Her mother took Jane by the arm and led her out of the room, placating him with the words:
“Of course, darling, everything will be as you wish…”
Her mother always looked up to him as if he were a deity, obeyed him unquestioningly, and catered to him in a saccharine voice, trying to please him in every way.
Why? Jane couldn’t understand. She was sure that if her stepfather wished, her mother would easily throw her out.
“What makes you think you can talk to me like that?” her mother hissed at Jane that day. “Never speak to your father like that!”
“He’s not my father!” Jane screamed, tears streaming down her face. “And he never will be!”
“That doesn’t matter! He feeds, clothes, and provides for you, and you’re just ungrateful!”
“I never asked to be born!” Jane shouted through her tears. “I never asked to be raised! You should have given me away to someone!”
“I should have! But no one wanted you! And your dad ran off as soon as you were born! You ruined my life!”
Hearing those words, Jane felt such an intense hatred that she pushed her mother aside and ran out of the apartment.
No one chased after her. No one wondered where she went during the week she was gone.
Jane was fifteen then…
What could she do? Nothing.
Friends took turns housing her for a few days each, but it didn’t solve her problem. She had to return.
With trembling hands, Jane opened the front door…
“So, you’re back?” was all her mother said. “Go to your room and don’t show yourself until I call you…”
“She must have convinced him,” Jane thought, quickly slipping into her room.
From that day on, her stepfather acted as though Jane didn’t exist.
And her mother, of course, supported him in this: she didn’t call Jane to the table, didn’t care about her affairs, and made no attempts to talk to her.
Jane understood clearly: they had made some decision concerning her. They were probably only waiting for her to finish school…
And she was right. As soon as she received her diploma, her mother hinted that it was time for her to prepare for an independent life.
“As soon as you turn eighteen, you will strike out on your own,” her mother declared before retreating into silence once more.
Jane thought it over and decided to apply to university. First, it would spare her family from her presence, and second – university students from out of town were given accommodation. At least she’d have a place to live for the next five years…
Jane didn’t pass her exams. Or rather, she did but was accepted into the tuition-based program. She knew no one would pay for her education, but she still informed her mother:
“Mom, guess what, I got into university.”
Her mother looked at her indifferently.
“And?”
“But there’s a tuition fee… Not a lot, though…”
“Don’t even think about it. You won’t get a penny for your nonsense! Haven’t your father and I invested enough in you already? And all you do is stress us out! And now we should pay for your studies?”
“I’m sorry. Of course, you shouldn’t,” Jane replied. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Exactly: you shouldn’t have. Start looking for a place for yourself.”
“Mom, I don’t have the money to pay for it…”
“Get a job. Here’s me being generous, giving you another month… After that, you’re on your own.”
“A month isn’t enough,” Jane tried to garner some sympathy. “Can I stay with you at least for six months longer?”
“Six months? Absolutely not. I barely managed to convince your father to tolerate your presence. Besides, we’re planning renovations. We want to turn your room into a bedroom. You have a month, no longer…”
So Jane rented a place. Calling it an apartment would be a stretch. A tiny temporary structure in a residential area. No amenities. With a stove. But it was cheap…
When Jane left her family’s home, her mother gave her a fork, spoon, plate, cup, table knife, and a small saucepan. She thought for a moment and added: a towel and an old bedding set.
“Take this too,” she said, avoiding eye contact and handing Jane a small bag. “Good luck, dear. I hope you grow up and understand me.”
“Thank you, Mom,” Jane replied. “May I pick up my winter clothes later?”
“Just don’t take too long, or you might not find them here…”
“Would you throw them out?”
“I wouldn’t, but your father might not like it. You know how it is…”
“I understand,” Jane embraced her mother. “Well, I’m off…”
So, at eighteen, Jane began her independent life.
With her mother’s blessing…
The little money her mother gave her lasted until her first paycheck. Jane was frugal with every penny, even walking to the factory to save on transportation.
After receiving her first paycheck, she felt like a millionaire! She bought grains and pasta in bulk, a bottle of cooking oil, and a whole bucket of potatoes.
She needed to buy shampoo, soap, toothpaste, too…
After buying all the necessities, Jane counted her remaining money and put a small amount aside into a lovely envelope. Even if it was little by little, she planned to save for better housing.
She visited her mother about a month later, thinking (naively) that her mother would be happy to see her and to collect her winter clothes. Summer had ended, and the weather turned autumnally chilly.
A young man opened the door.
“Hey, you must have the wrong door,” he said cheerfully.
“Actually, I’m here to see my mom,” Jane was taken aback.
“Oh… You must be Jane? Come in. Mom’s not here, but you can wait for her.”
“Sure, I’ll wait,” Jane decisively walked into the kitchen.
The young man tried to make conversation, but Jane’s glare made him retreat quickly.
Her mother arrived shortly after. She wasn’t particularly welcoming. When Jane asked about the young man, her mother replied:
“That’s Alex. Her husband’s son from his first marriage.”
“Why does he live with you? You said you were planning renovations.”
“It’s temporary. He’s getting settled in the city and then he’ll find his own place.”
“I see,” Jane said, her voice icy. “I grabbed my boots and coat…”
“Take everything. Don’t leave anything behind. I’m tired of moving your stuff around.”
“When did that happen, Mom? I’ve only been gone two months.”
“Don’t be cheeky,” her mother snapped. “You’re here, take your things.”
“Aren’t you going to ask how I’m doing?”
“I’m not interested,” her mother said bluntly, clearly unable (or perhaps unwilling) to have this conversation with Alex present.
“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,” Jane said as she headed to the hallway.
“Need some help with that big bag?” Alex popped up from somewhere. “How are you going to manage it?”
“I’ll manage,” Jane muttered as she walked out the door…
A couple of months later, she returned for her winter coat. Once again, Alex opened the door. Her mother was home this time. When Jane asked:
“Is he still living here?” her mother exploded:
“That’s none of your business! He’ll stay as long as he wants! He’s here for his dad!”
“And I was here with my mom,” Jane couldn’t help but say. “Yet somehow, that didn’t save me.”
“Don’t compare! This is different!”
“What’s different?” Jane asked firmly. “What’s the difference?”
“I don’t owe you any explanations!” her mother shouted. “This is my home, and I decide who lives here.”
“I see.”
“What do you see?!”
“That a stranger is more important to you than your own daughter,” Jane said with such calm certainty that it enraged her mother even more.
“I don’t have a daughter!” her mother declared. “And Alex – he’s the son of the man I love! He’s like a son to me!”
“Congratulations,” Jane looked her mother up and down as if she were a stranger. “In that case, I no longer have a mother.”
And she left.
Convinced it was for good.
For four years, Jane neither called nor visited.
And now, this unexpected encounter…
***
While Jane was lost in her thoughts, her mother got up from her seat and approached her daughter.
Michael rose, giving her his seat.
“Hello,” Jane heard the familiar voice she had tried so hard to forget.
“Hi,” she managed to reply.
“Who is he?” her mother gestured towards Michael.
“My husband.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“We’re doing well too. Dad’s working, and Alex has found a girlfriend. She’s a lovely, quiet girl. The wedding’s next month. You know, I’m soon to be a grandmother. Such happiness! We decided to give the baby your room. We’ve started the renovations. Bought the most expensive wallpaper with nursery patterns. And we’re planning to buy a vacation home. Somewhere nearby. The baby needs fresh air, vitamins. We’re looking for something affordable but with a livable house and a river or lake nearby.”
Jane listened to her mother’s barrage of words, utterly bewildered as to what purpose this stranger of a woman had for telling her all this.
“And how long have you been married?”
“Two years now,” Jane replied automatically.
“Thinking about children?”
“Our son is almost a year old.”
“So, I have a grandson?”
“You?” Jane finally turned to face her mother.
“Me,” her mother faltered momentarily. “You are my daughter, after all.”
“You must be mistaken, ma’am. My mother died four years ago…”
Her mother turned pale, stood up silently, and walked to the exit.
Jane turned to look out the window; she felt no pity for… this woman.
Michael had been quietly watching the whole exchange, listening intently.
He suddenly realized: they were complete strangers!
And he decided that he wouldn’t pry into his wife’s past. He suddenly feared looking into that abyss…
