“Well, I’ll see you all off this earth! You’ll regret it!” screamed my brother’s wife, fiercely.
“But why, Laura? I gave you the full amount. What’s the issue?” my mother couldn’t understand why her daughter-in-law was threatening her.
“And where’s that written that you gave the money? Where are the witnesses? A receipt? You still owe us for half of this flat!” Laura insisted, standing in the doorway.
“Listen, Laura. You should just leave peacefully. I was a witness when the money was handed over. Is that satisfactory? And send my regards to my brother. He should reign you in. Don’t come here again,” I had to intervene in the tense situation. My mother was vulnerable.
“You’ll regret this, it will be too late! I’ll go to a witch and curse you!” Laura shouted as she left.
After our father passed away, our mother sold the family home in the countryside and moved in with me in my three-bedroom apartment. I was already a widow at that point, raising my five-year-old son, George. I was happy to have mother stay with us.
“Vera, would you mind if I gave half of the money from the house sale to Alex? He’s still my son, and Laura’s been giving him a hard time, claiming he’s not supporting the family properly,” Mum pleaded with me.
“That’s no problem at all, of course, give it to him! It’s only fair,” I thought so too.
We invited Alex and Laura over, handed over the money directly. Then, two years later, Laura demands more money, threatening and cursing us.
I showed her out, shut the door, and put her out of my mind. We didn’t speak to my brother or Laura for years after that. It was like a black cat had crossed our paths. Since then, it felt like we were cursed, dealing with one endless problem after another.
Mum became bedridden, I fell ill with an unknown ailment, and George developed chronic eczema. The place smelled of medicine, and everything seemed to break or fall apart. Our wall clock stopped at night. As a former police officer, I had to take early retirement when I had to care for my bedridden mum and treat my son intensively. Money inexplicably slipped through our fingers.
I remember I turned my apartment into a house of violets, growing and selling them at the market. Little blooms that saved us from debt, people eagerly bought them.
Once a year, relatives would visit, staying for a week, gifting us worn but clean clothes and bringing groceries like meat, pasta, grains, and flour. We were grateful for everything. After they left, it was back to the same grind: poverty, illness, and apathy.
To keep from despairing, I created a flower bed near the entrance in spring. Simple flowers like snapdragons, stock, and marigolds grew there, but it was my only source of inspiration.
One day, our neighbor, Michael, passed by and, after admiring my modest garden, said, “Good day, neighbor! May I offer you some money for more flowers? Buy more of them, make everyone envious.” Unsure, I shrugged. Michael slipped the money into my robe pocket saying, “Please, take it, our dear gardener. You’re making beauty for everyone.”
Inspired, I bought exotic flowers and bushes. My garden flourished in a riot of color. Neighbors “oohed” and “ahhed” at the paradise of floral beauty. Michael often stopped to admire the garden, saying, “Only a good person could make flowers flourish like this.”
He’d often bring me chocolates and sweets, “These are for you, Vera, for your tireless efforts.” I appreciated the attention from a stranger.
Over the years, life slowly started to improve. Mum, after treatment, regained her spirit. My son’s skin cleared up. I felt like a woman awakening to love again, paying no mind to my age.
George, inspired by his ailing grandmother, decided to become a doctor. He easily got into medical school and worked at a hospital, soon assisting in surgeries. Neighbors would often seek his help for diagnoses, injections, and drips. George became a specialist in emergency medicine.
Together, we spruced up our apartment. George bought a second-hand car and planned to marry his colleague, Anna, a cardiologist. Life was calm and good.
Recently, Laura called, her voice hoarse, “Hello, Vera. Could you visit? I’m in the hospital.”
I went to the address she gave. Entering the communal ward, I found Laura’s bed.
“What happened to you, Laura?” I was surprised by her worn appearance. There was emptiness in her eyes.
“Here’s what’s been happening, Vera… We were walking in the woods and found a human skull, brought it home, cleaned it up, varnished it, turned it into an ashtray. Six months later, your brother died in an accident. Two months after that, our son died of carbon monoxide poisoning in the garage after drinking with friends. I’m sick now – pneumonia. Why did we bring that cursed skull home? That’s where my misfortune began.” Laura wept bitterly.
“No, Laura, it started when you went to those black magic witches. The skull was just a consequence,” I couldn’t help myself from saying it. She had brought too much misfortune to our family.
“You’re right, Vera. I confess. I did curse you and wish you ill. My anger poured out like black tar. In the end, I’ve condemned myself to loneliness. Forgive me. Let’s forget about our foolish quarrels. In my youth, I felt like I had wings, and now there’s a boomerang lodged in my back. I feel its sting,” Laura said, subdued and reflective.
I told George everything. He showed concern, “Mum, let’s move Aunt Laura to my hospital. She’ll receive better care. She’s not just anyone.”
“Yes, let’s do that, son,” I had fully forgiven Laura. She needed kindness, as she had no one left. She had lost both her husband and son.
Michael proposed we join our lives. He lived a floor above us.
“Vera, why don’t you move in with me? It’ll be nicer to while away the time together. You’re a widow, I’m a widower. We’ll have plenty to chat about. Will you agree?”
“Yes, Michael,” I couldn’t believe my unexpected fortune. It was like happiness had fallen from the sky, warming my soul.
Mum was happy for me, “See, Vera, your fate was always close, hovering nearby. You deserved this happiness.”
Laura is making a swift recovery and asks to visit. Should I invite her? I’ll discuss it with George and Michael…
