INSTEAD OF WINGS, A BOOMERANG BEHIND MY BACK
Ill make you all regret this! Youll be sorry! my brothers wife yelled furiously.
For what, Laura? I paid you every penny. Whats the issue? My mum stood bewildered by her daughter-in-laws anger.
Wheres the proof you paid? Where are the witnesses? Did you sign anything? You still owe me and Sam for half of this flat! Laura blocked the doorway aggressively.
Well, Laura, off you go, and dont come back. I was there when the money was handed over. Is that good enough for you? Tell my brother helloand maybe he ought to rein you in a bit. Mum doesnt deserve this, I insisted, stepping in. Mum was powerless against Lauras tirade.
Youll live to regret this! Itll be too late when you do! Ill go to a witch and curse you all! Laura shrieked as she stormed out.
After Dad died, Mum sold her cottage in Devon and moved in with meinto my three-bedroom flat in Manchester. I was a widow then, raising my five-year-old son Oliver on my own. Mum was a comfort, and I welcomed her gladly.
Vera, would you mind if I gave half the money from the sale to Sammy? Hes still my son. Laura keeps nagging himsays hes useless and doesnt provide for the family, Mum asked me helplessly.
Oh, Mum, whats the problem? Of course you should give it to him! Its only fair, I agreed, meaning it sincerely.
We invited Sam and Laura over, passed the money to them, hand to hand. Now, two years later, Laura returns, demanding more money, threats and curses in tow. I ushered her out, closed the door, and erased Laura from my life. For years, we didnt speak to Sam or Laura. It was as if a black cat had walked between us, and then misfortune poured on us like an endless waterfall. We wandered through hard timesbad luck clinging to us while we chased hope.
Mum collapsed and took ill; I came down with something mysterious; Oliver broke out in terrible eczema. Trouble never left us. The flat was saturated with the smell of medicine. Everything seemed to break, fall, or get smashedclocks stopped inexplicably at midnight. As a police officer, I took early retirement, even though Id planned to serve longer. I had to look after Mum and try to heal Oliver. Our money just seemed to slip through our fingers.
I turned our flat into a violet sanctuaryAfrican violets everywhere. I grew them, propagated them, sold them at the local market. Those little flowers really rescued us from debt. People bought them gladly.
Relatives visited once a year, stayed for a week, brought us bags of worn but clean clothes, foodmeat, pasta, grains, flour We were always genuinely grateful, but after they left, the same old cycle resumed.
Hardship, illness, apathy.
To fight despair and dark thoughts, I planted a flower bed outside the front entrance. I sowed seeds in springsnapdragons, night-scented stock, marigoldssimple but beautiful. My little garden became my sole inspiration.
One day, Michael, my neighbour, walked by and sized up my modest flower patch. Good afternoon! Can I give you a bit for more flowers? Buy a bunch, make it the envy of the street.
I shrugged uncertainly, but Michael slipped some banknotes in my dressing gown pocket. Take it, our lovely gardener! Dont be shy. Youre making the neighbourhood beautiful for us all.
Lifted up, I bought exotic plants and bushes. My flower bed bloomed in a riot of coloursresidents gasped and marvelled at the stunning display.
Michael always paused to admire it. Only good people grow such thriving flowers.
Hed often treat me to chocolates, a sweet, or some ice cream. For you, Vera, for all your hard work.
His kindness warmed my heart, even though we were strangers.
Years passed, life improved bit by bit. Mum recovered, brightened, and Olivers skin healed. Suddenly, I felt like a woman in white lace, longing to love and be loved, forgetting my autumn years.
Oliver decided, watching his grandmothers struggles, to become a doctor. He was accepted into medical school easily, worked at the hospital, soon assisting in surgeries. Eventually, neighbours would ask Oliver for diagnoses, help with injections, or IV drips
He trained as a resuscitation specialist.
Together, we redecorated the flat. Oliver bought a used Volkswagen and planned to marry his colleague Emmaa cardiologist. All was calm and well.
Recently, Laura called with a hoarse voice, Hello, Vera. Can you visit me? Im in hospital.
I went to the ward. Laura lay gaunt and broken on her cot.
What happened, Laura? I asked, startled by her hollow look.
Here’s the story, Vera… Sam and I went walking in the woods. Found a human skull hidden in the grassbrought it home. Cleaned it, varnished it, made it an ashtray. Half a year later, your brother died in a car crash. Two months after that, our son suffocated in the garagedrinking with friends. Now Ive got pneumonia. God, why did we bring that cursed skull home? Thats when my troubles began, Laura wept bitterly.
No, Laura, it started when you sought out those dark witches and warlocks. The skull is just a symptom, I couldnt help but tell her. Shed brought too much misery to our family.
Youre right, Vera. I confess. I did curse you and wish ill. My anger was poisonnow Im left alone. Forgive me. Lets leave those childish quarrels behind. As a young woman, I felt wings behind me, now theres only a boomerang burning my back, Laura grew silent, thoughtful.
I told Oliver everything. He wasnt indifferent.
Mum, lets move Aunt Laura to my hospital. The care there is better. Shes still family.
All right, son. I forgave Laura completely. She deserved pity. She had lost her husband and son, left to bear her suffering alone.
Michael asked me to join our liveshe lived just upstairs. Vera, move in with me. Itll be more cheerful for us both. Youre a widow, Im a widowerwell have much in common. What do you say?
Yes, Michael, I replied, hardly believing my luck. Happiness had fallen from the skies, warming my soul at last.
Mum rejoiced for me: See, Vera, your fate was always nearbygradually it came closer, watched you, and now its yours. You have truly earned it.
Laura recovered quickly, wanted to visit us. Should I invite her? Ill discuss it with Oliver and MichaelI thought about Lauras request for days, weighing her sorrow against old wounds. The violets in my windowsill were flourishing, vibrant as hope itself. Michael found me staring out at the busy street one morning, hands cupped around a mug of tea.
Invite her, Vera, he said gently. Forgiveness is the last flower left to bloom.
When Laura arrived, her eyes were cautious, seeking reassurance. Oliver welcomed her warmly, offering her tea. Mum insisted she try a slice of homemade cake. Michael cracked a joke that made everyone laughLaura smiled for the first time in years.
We sat together, quiet at first, then sharing old memories, speaking honestly about regret and redemption. Laura cried, and I held her hand. There was a peace in letting go.
Later that evening, Laura lingered by my flower bed, running her fingers over the petals. Do you still believe in curses? she whispered.
Only in the kind you break by loving, I replied.
She nodded, tears shining in her eyes. I watched as she gazed up, seeing how the dusk painted everything in a forgiving violet. Mum hummed softly; Oliver called Emma and poked his head out, grinning; Michael handed Laura a small pot of African violets, For you, to start again.
For the first time, the wounds between us felt healednot erased, but transformed into roots supporting new blossoms.
Laura left that night, promising to visit again soon.
I looked around the table: Mum smiling, Oliver and Emma making plans, Michael touching my shoulder lightly. The air was filled with laughter and light.
Sometimes, life gives you wings. Other times, it hands you a boomerang. Either way, when it returns, you catch itand learn to soar in your own time.
The end.
