THE COUNTERPUNCH
“Sarah, who is that woman?” quietly asked Mark, so their fellow passengers wouldn’t overhear.
“Which woman?” Sarah tore her attention from her phone, where she was texting a friend.
“The one over there… by the last window. She keeps looking at us. Honestly, she’s staring shamelessly.”
Sarah rose slightly to get a view of the woman her husband was referring to and her expression changed immediately. Then she quickly composed herself, feigning indifference with a nonchalant shrug.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie,” Mark was annoyed. “I saw the way you reacted when you saw her. Who is she?”
“She’s my mother,” Sarah finally admitted, having made a snap decision that telling the truth would be better, just in case.
“Your mother?” Mark was taken aback. “You said you didn’t have a mother.”
“And I don’t…”
“I’m confused,” Mark scrutinized his wife’s face with curiosity. “Could you explain?”
“Let’s talk about it when we get home…”
“And you’re not even going to approach her? Does she live here, in London?”
“Mark, please, let’s discuss it at home,” Sarah pleaded, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Alright,” Mark muttered and turned towards the window, sulking.
Sarah didn’t comfort him. She was relieved to be left alone, at least for a while. However, peace was elusive as memories from her childhood floated to the surface of her mind…
***
Sarah didn’t remember her father, only her mother’s descriptions of him as a “terrible” person.
Yet her mother always insisted that Sarah was fortunate to have a wonderful person in her life – her stepfather.
Sarah remembered him well from the age of about eight, though she couldn’t understand what made him so wonderful. He was harsh, mean, and stingy. “Why does Mum love him so much?” Sarah would ponder from wherever she hid to avoid Uncle Peter finding her.
No, he never hit her or openly offended her. But he didn’t see her as a person either. He never called her by her name and treated her like she was invisible.
If he talked about Sarah to her mother, it usually went like this:
“The girl doesn’t know how to behave…”
“Your daughter is disturbing my peace…”
“Make her understand it’s too early to be going out with boys.”
“Have you seen her report card? Look! It’s embarrassing to have her live in my house!”
“In his house! Doesn’t he remember this is Mum’s and my flat?” thought teenage Sarah, who distinctly remembered moving into the flat with her mother after her grandma passed away.
One day, when her stepfather uttered his usual phrase for the thousandth time, Sarah couldn’t take it anymore and retorted directly:
“It’s not me but you who lives in our flat! If you don’t like it, leave! No one will cry!”
Her stepfather lunged towards her as if to silence her, but stopped at the last moment. He turned sharply towards her mother and spat through clenched teeth:
“Make sure I don’t have to see her again!”
Her mum grabbed Sarah by the arm, dragging her out of the room, murmuring, “Whatever you want, dear, everything will be as you wish…”
She always viewed him as untouchable, obeyed without question, served him, used a sugary voice, and seemed eager to please.
Why? Sarah couldn’t understand. But she was convinced that if her stepfather demanded it, her mum wouldn’t hesitate to kick her out.
“What do you think you’re doing?” her mum hissed at Sarah that day, “Don’t you dare talk to your father like that!”
“He’s not my father!” Sarah shouted back, “and he never will be!”
“That doesn’t matter! He feeds you, clothes you, and you’re just ungrateful!”
“I didn’t ask to be born!” Sarah cried through tears, “I didn’t ask to be raised! You should have given me away if it was such a burden!”
“You should have been!” her mother shot back, “but no one wanted you! And your father ran off as soon as you were born! You’ve ruined my life!”
Hearing those words from her mother, Sarah felt such hatred that she angrily pushed her mother aside and stormed out of the flat.
No one followed her. And during that week she was gone, no one asked where she was or what happened to her.
Sarah was fifteen then. What could she do? Nothing. Friends took turns sheltering her for a few days, but it didn’t solve the problem. She had to return.
With trembling hands, Sarah opened the front door…
“Here you are,” was all her mother said, “go to your room and stay there until I call you…”
“She must have talked him around,” thought Sarah and quickly slipped into her room.
From that day on, her stepfather never mentioned her again. Acted as if she didn’t exist, and naturally, her mum supported him: she didn’t call her to the table, didn’t show interest in her affairs, didn’t try to talk to her.
Sarah clearly realized they had already made some decision about her. They must be waiting for her to finish school…
And she wasn’t wrong. As soon as Sarah received her diploma, her mum hinted that it was time to prepare for independent life.
“When you turn eighteen, you’ll be out,” she stated before falling silent again.
Sarah thought it over and decided to pursue university. Firstly, she would relieve her family of her presence, and secondly, out-of-town students were offered dormitory accommodation. At least, for the next five years, she’d have somewhere to live…
Sarah didn’t get into university. Or rather, she did, but to a fee-paying course. She knew no one would fund her education but told her mum anyway:
“Mum, congratulate me, I’m a student.”
Her mum looked at her with disinterest. “And?”
“But tuition needs to be paid… Not much…”
“Don’t even think about it. Not a penny for your whims! Haven’t your stepfather and I spent enough on you? All you’ve done is make us anxious! Now, you expect us to pay for your education too?”
“I’m sorry. Of course, you’re not obligated,” Sarah replied. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“Exactly,” her mum said, “just find yourself a flat.”
“Mum, I can’t afford the rent…”
“Go get a job, then. You think you’re off to study. I’m giving you a month… then you’re out.”
“A month’s too short,” Sarah tried to soften her mum. “Can I stay with you at least six more months?”
“How long? Six months? No. I barely convinced your stepfather to tolerate you any longer. Besides, we’ve planned renovations. We want to turn your room into a bedroom. So – a month, no more…”
So Sarah rented a place. Though calling it an apartment was a stretch. A tiny lodge in a residential area, with no amenities and just a basic heating stove. But it was cheap…
When Sarah left home, her mother gave her a fork, spoon, plate, cup, kitchen knife, and a small saucepan. Then, hesitating, she added: one towel and an old set of bedding.
“Here, take this too,” she said, avoiding eye contact and handing Sarah a small packet, “good luck, daughter. I hope you grow up and understand me.”
“Thank you, Mum,” Sarah replied, “can I collect my winter clothes later?”
“Just don’t delay, or you might not find them…”
“You’d throw them out?”
“Not me, but your stepfather might. You know how he is.”
“I understand,” Sarah hugged her mother, “well, I’m off…”
And so, at eighteen, Sarah stepped out into her own life. With her mother’s blessing.
The money she received from her mother lasted until her first paycheck, although Sarah was frugal with every penny. She didn’t even use public transport, opting to walk to the factory where she worked.
Getting her first salary, she felt like a millionaire! She bought groceries in bulk, a bottle of cooking oil, and a whole sack of potatoes. She also needed shampoo, soap, and toothpaste…
After purchasing the essentials, Sarah calculated her remaining money and, setting aside a small sum in a nice envelope, decided she would slowly start saving for her own place.
She visited her mother about a month later, still hoping naively her mum might be happy to see her and to collect warmer clothes as summer had ended and autumn’s chill was settling in.
A young man opened the door.
“Hi there, wrong door?” he asked cheerfully.
“I’m actually here to see my mum,” Sarah replied, confused.
“A… You must be Sarah. Come in. Mum’s not in, but you can wait for her.”
“And I will,” Sarah stated decisively, heading into the kitchen.
The guy tried to chat with the guest, but Sarah gave him a look that quickly sent him scurrying away.
Her mother arrived home. She didn’t seem particularly pleased. When Sarah asked who the young man was, she answered, “That’s Sam, my husband’s son from a previous marriage.”
“And why’s he staying with you? I thought you were planning renovations.”
“He’s just here for a bit. Once he’s settled in the city and finds a job, he’ll move to a place of his own.”
“Got it,” Sarah said curtly, “I’ve collected my shoes and coat…”
“Take everything. Don’t leave anything behind. I’m tired of moving it around.”
“When did you get tired, Mum? I’ve only been gone two months.”
“Don’t be cheeky,” her mum was annoyed. “You came; take your stuff.”
“Are you not even going to ask how I’m doing?”
“I’m not interested,” Sarah’s mum clearly didn’t want (or couldn’t) have this conversation in front of Sam.
“Well, I’m not surprised,” Sarah started to take her leave.
“Shall I help you with that huge bag?” Sam popped up from nowhere, “how will you manage it alone?”
“I’ll manage,” Sarah replied before leaving the flat.
She visited again after a couple of months, this time for her warm jacket. Once more, Sam answered the door. Her mum was home this time. When Sarah inquired if Sam was still staying there, her mother snapped:
“That’s none of your business! He’ll stay as long as he wants! After all, he came to visit his father!”
“And I lived here with my mum,” Sarah remarked, “but that didn’t seem to matter much.”
“It’s not the same!”
“What’s different?” Sarah asked firmly, “What’s the difference?”
“I don’t have to answer to you!” her mother yelled. “This is my house, and I’ll decide who lives here.”
“Got it.”
“What’s got into you?!”
“That a complete stranger means more to you than your own daughter,” Sarah said with calm certainty, pushing her mother to the brink.
“I have no daughter!” her mother blurted out. “And Sam – he’s the son of the man I love! He’s more than a son to me!”
“Congratulations,” Sarah looked at her mum as if she were a complete stranger. “In that case, I have no mother.”
And she left.
Sure that it was for good.
For four years, Sarah didn’t show any sign of life. No calls, no visits.
And now this encounter…
***
As Sarah was caught up in her memories, her mother rose from her seat and approached her daughter.
Mark stood up, offering the woman his place.
“Hello,” Sarah heard that familiar voice she tried so hard to forget.
“Hi,” she barely managed to respond.
“Who’s he?” Her mother nodded toward Mark.
“My husband.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“We’re doing well, too. Your stepfather is working, and Sam’s found a girlfriend. Such a lovely, calm girl. The wedding is next month. I’ll be a grandma soon. Such happiness! We’ve decided to give the baby your old room. We’ve started the renovations. Bought the most expensive wallpaper, with a nursery theme. And we’re even looking into buying a cottage nearby. The baby needs fresh air and vitamins. We’re searching for something affordable but with a proper house and close to a river, or perhaps a lake…”
Sarah listened to this flood of words, struggling to understand why this stranger was telling her all this.
“And when did you get married?”
“Two years ago,” Sarah replied automatically.
“Thinking of kids?”
“Our son is almost a year old.”
“So, I have a grandson?”
“You?” Sarah finally turned to face her mother.
“Me,” her mum hesitated, “you’re my daughter.”
“You must be mistaken, woman. My mother passed away four years ago…”
Her mother’s face turned pale. She silently stood and headed for the exit.
Sarah turned back to the window; she felt no sympathy… for that woman.
Mark had been quietly observing both women, listening intently to their conversation.
And suddenly, it struck him: they were complete strangers!
He resolved not to pry about her past. For some reason, the thought of delving into it filled him with dread.
