She Trampled Across My Fate Like a Passing Rogue “Mum, if you don’t break things off with that brazen hussy, then don’t consider me your mother! That Nina is at least fifteen years older than you!” my mother repeated yet again. “Mum, I can’t help it! I wish I could…” I tried explaining. …Once, there was my darling girl, sweet little Lena, just fourteen: pure, modest, precious. When I first met her at a school disco, I was eighteen. Lena caught my eye—my heart ached for her! Through her friend, by hook or by crook, I managed to invite Lena out. Did she come? No! I became a hunter, determined to catch my prize. I got her number, kept calling, pleaded for a date. Finally, she gave in, but made sure I came to meet her mum for permission. Sweating and nervous, I stood at Lena’s door. Her mother turned out to be a good-natured lady with a sense of humour—and entrusted me with her treasure for two hours. We wandered the park, chatting and laughing—innocent as you please. But then Lena said, “Vova, I already have a boyfriend. I think I love him. But he’s a terrible player, I’m sick of catching him with other girls. I do have pride, you know. Why don’t we give friendship a try? Would you like that?” Eyebrows raised, I looked at Lena with even greater curiosity. She could seem so untouchable—or so in love. I was captivated. Time flew and I delivered Lena safely home. …As time passed, I couldn’t imagine life without her. Mum also fell for this “little ray of sunshine.” Lena often visited. Mum would share advice and teach her lady’s secrets. Now and then, they’d get to chatting and forget all about me. By the time Lena turned eighteen, we were talking about a wedding. No one—not me, Lena, nor our families—doubted it would happen. The wedding was scheduled for autumn. …Summer arrived. Lena left to visit her gran in the countryside. I spent the summer at our cottage, helping Mum in the garden. One day, while watering the tomatoes, I heard someone call, “Young man, may I have a drink of water?” Turning, I saw a woman around thirty-five, rather unkempt but with a fire in her eyes. I didn’t recall seeing her at the cottages before. Still, I couldn’t refuse. Pouring her a cup of well water, I handed it to her: “Here you go…” She drank with pleasure, sighing, “Oh, thank you, young man! Thought I would die of thirst. Here, I’ve got a little homemade cordial. Sweet stuff. Take it as a thank you. Don’t be shy.” And she pressed a bottle into my hand. I accepted, calling after her, “Thank you!” That evening, while eating alone (Mum had gone into town), I drank the cordial. If Mum had been home, she would never have let me touch it. Next day, the visitor returned. Her name was Nina, she said, from the nearby village. I invited her in—she’d brought more of that sweet cordial. I fixed a quick salad and sandwiches. We chatted over drinks, not noticing how the bottle emptied. Looking back, I curse myself for what happened next… Nina took charge, as if I were a schoolboy. I was helpless, lost in a fog. When I came round, Nina had gone. Mum stood over me, anxious: “Vova, what happened while I was away? Who were you drinking with? Why is your bed all ruffled, like a herd of horses ran over it?” she worried. I could barely open my eyes, my head spinning. I couldn’t explain. That evening, guilt set in—especially for my fiancée Lena… A week passed, and Nina came again. I was glad—even missed her a bit. Mum stormed out the door, hands on hips: “What do you want, woman?” I tried to calm her: “Mum, really—is that how you greet a guest? Maybe she just wants water. Why are you so hostile?” “A guest? That’s Nina the Tramp from the village! Every dog in town knows her! Goes round the dachas, seduces men! Disgraceful! After you, too—well, I won’t allow it! Get her out before it’s too late!” Mum raged. But it was already too late—Nina’s honeyed brew had enchanted me. I was tied to her with invisible strings. I forgot Lena completely. When I told Nina about my fiancée, she just said, “Come now, Vova—first loves aren’t real fiancées.” The wedding was called off. Mum called Lena over and told her everything. “Forgive him, dear—he doesn’t know he’s headed towards ruin. Don’t wait for him.” Lena soon married someone else. But Mum was determined to save me from Nina—she went to the draft office and asked them to send me to the army. So I was packed off to Afghanistan. I won’t describe what happened there—but I returned missing three fingers, just “a light wound”… My mind, of course, was badly affected. I became fearless and numb. Nina had waited for me—and we now had a son. Before heading to war I’d sown my “seed,” unsure I’d come back alive. While fighting, I dreamed of having five children one day. Mum still despised Nina, doted on Lena, and knitted socks and caps for her child—insisting that girl was my daughter. I would have been overjoyed, but alas… Lena got everything right—she would visit my mother, ask about me. Mother would shrug, “Oh, Lena, Vova’s still with that tramp. I doubt he’ll ever leave her. What he sees in her—I’ll never understand…” Years later, Lena told me my mother’s laments. Soon after, I took a job in the North. Nina and our three children came with me. Two more were born—but our five-year-old daughter died of pneumonia. The northern climate was cruel. We returned home, to cope under our own birches. More and more, I found myself longing for Lena, my forsaken bride. Mum gave me her number and even the address, but warned, “Don’t meddle in Lena’s marriage—don’t stir up trouble.” I phoned her—the reunion was instant. Lena had grown more beautiful. She invited me home, introduced me to her husband as an “old friend.” He trusted her fully, and left for his night shift, leaving us alone. There was half a bottle of champagne on the table, fruit—a daughter away with Grandma. “Well then, hello Vova! I know everything about you from your mum. How are things?” Lena sighed, looking deep into my eyes. “Forgive me, Lena. This is how it all turned out—nothing can change now. I have four children,” I stammered. “No need to change anything, Vova. We met, remembered our youth, and that’s enough. Only your poor mother—I feel for her. Be kinder to her,” Lena asked warmly. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Time hadn’t touched her—still as lovely as ever. Taking her hand, kissing it tenderly, I burst out, “Lena, I love you as I did when I was young. Our love just floated by. You can’t rewrite life—I’m sorry for everything I put you through!” “Vova, it’s time for you to go. It’s late.” Lena drew the line under our meeting. But could I just walk away like that? Overwhelmed by feelings, swept up by longing and reckless passion… …In the morning I slipped out—Lena fast asleep. We began a secret affair that lasted three years, until Lena’s family moved away and the connection was lost forever. …Nina and I divorced when our children grew up. My mother was right. A tramp is a tramp—she trampled over my fate, broke my heart. …No matter how long you boil water, in the end, it’s still just water. In the end, I had only one real child—my very first son… — She Walked Roughshod Over My Destiny: The Story of a Son Torn Between a Mother’s Warnings, a First Love, and the Allure of a Relentless Stranger

TRODDEN BY A ROGUE

Son, if you dont leave that brazen woman, you can forget you have a mother! Mum repeated endlessly. That Miranda is at least fifteen years older than you!

Mum, I canthonestly, I would if I could I tried to explain.

Back then, I had a sweet girl, Emily, just 14. Innocent, modest, the girl I dreamt of. I was 18, met her at a school dance, and she just captured me completely. Through her friend, I somehow managed to ask Emily out. Do you think she showed up? Of course not! Like a hunter, I trailed my prey. Got her home number, called her, pleaded for a date. Finally, she relentedbut with a condition: Come and talk to my mum, ask her yourself.

So there I was, sweating and blushing outside Emilys front door. Her mother turned out to be a real warm-hearted soul, full of wit. She entrusted Emily to me for two hours.

Emily and I strolled through the park, chatted, laughed. Everything was remarkably chaste. Suddenly, she goes: Tom, I have a boyfriend, I think I love him. But hes always out with other girlsfed up with finding him with someone new each time! Still, I do have some self-respect. Want to give it a try with me? Friends?

I raised an eyebrow, more intrigued than ever. Emily could play the innocent, yet have feelings already. I became even more taken with her.

The two hours whizzed by. I handed Emily safely back to her mother.

Over time, that girl really became my world. Mum was enchanted, too. Emily visited our house often. Mum started to teach her all the tricks of the trade. Sometimes, theyd natter away and forget I was even there.

When Emily turned eighteen, we finally started talking about getting married. None of us, not our parents either, had any doubts wed do just that. The plan was to wed in autumn.

Then summer arrived. Emily went off to her nans cottage in the country. I spent the summer at our familys allotment, helping mum with the garden.

One day, Im watering the tomatoes when I hear a voice: Young man, could I have a drink of water, please? I turn to see a woman, probably about 35, rather scruffy with wild hair and a glint in her eye. I had never seen her around the allotments before, but how could I say no? I poured her a cup of fresh well water.

She drank it eagerly and beamed, Thanks ever so much! I nearly died of thirst. Tell you whatheres a little something in return. Some lovely homemade cordial. Dont turn your nose up at it! She handed me a full bottle. Well, I couldnt refuse her kindness. I called after her as she wandered off, Thank you!

That evening, I drank the cordial at dinner. Mum was in town; I was alone at the allotment. Had she been there, shed never have let me touch that bottle.

Next day, my mysterious guest returned. We got talkingher name was Miranda. She lived in the next village. I invited her in, and she brought more of her sweet cordial. Threw together a quick salad, made some sandwiches, and before I knew it, wed finished the bottle in conversation. Years later, I still curse myself for what came next.

Miranda, like a cat with a mouse, knew just how to take charge. I became utterly under her spell; I wasnt myself, just drifting along in a fog.

When I came to, Miranda was gone. Instead, Mum stood over me, frantic: Tom, what happened while I was gone? Who were you drinking with? And whys your bed look like a herd of wild horses stampeded through?

I could barely open my eyes, mind spinning, hands shaking. I couldnt explain anything. By the evening, Id started to rememberand felt sick with guilt over Emily

Within a week, Miranda was back, and IGod help meI was actually glad to see her. Id even missed her. When Mum saw her at the door, she stormed out: What do you want, woman?

I tried to calm Mum. Shes just thirsty, probably. Youre not usually like this.

Thirsty? Thats Miranda-the-menace from the village! Even the village dogs know her! She struts about these allotments, seducing men. Disgraceful! After you now, toowell, not if I can help it! Out, before its too late! Mum was practically apoplectic.

Mum didnt realise it was already far too late. That honeyed cordial of Mirandas must have been some kind of witchcraft. I knew she wasnt for me, didnt even love her, but still I followed her around like a lost puppy.

Soon Id all but forgotten Emily. When I told Miranda about my fiancée, she just shrugged, First love isnt a real fiancée, Tom.

Our planned wedding fell apart. Mum invited Emily over and told her everything.

Darling, forgive my daft Tom. He cant see hes heading for disaster. He wont realise until its too late. Hell end up penniless with that woman. Go and build your futuredont wait for him, Mum pleaded.

Emily married someone else.

Meanwhile, my soft-hearted mumdesperate to tear me from Mirandawent to the army recruitment office and begged them to call me up at once. Id been deferred until then. So, they sent me off to Afghanistan. No words for what I went through thereI returned missing three fingers from my right hand. Just a scratch, they said.

My mind was thoroughly battered. I became fearless and numb. Miranda waited for me. We already had a little boy. Before departing for Afghanistan, knowing I might not return, Id decided to leave some legacy behinda son. Out there, I dreamed of having five children.

Mum still despised Miranda. She adored Emily, made little hats and mittens for her baby girl. For some reason, Mum was convinced Emilys daughter was mine. Part of me wished she was, but alas

Everything seemed to be going right for Emily. Shed often stop by my mums house to ask after me. Mum would sigh, Oh, Emily, Toms still with that rogue. I dont think hell ever leave her. Dont see what he sees in that woman

Years later, Emily told me of Mums laments.

By that time, Id taken a job up North. Miranda and our three children came with me. Two more little ones were born up theremy wish for five children finally realised. Tragically, our five-year-old girl died of pneumonia in that harsh climate. After that, we went back home; theres comfort in familiar fields, and old oaks see you through hard times.

I started to think of Emily more and morethe fiancée I lost. The ache was relentless. Found her number through Mum, who gave me her address but warned me not to disturb Emilys family. Dont go stirring up trouble, son.

I called anyway; we met straight away. Emily had only grown more beautiful, serene. She invited me in, introduced me to her husband as an old school friend. He was so confident in Emily, he headed off on his night shift, leaving us alone with the remains of some champagne and a bowl of fruit. Emilys daughter was at her grandmas.

So, Tom, hows life been treating you? she asked, piercing me with those eyes. I know everything from your mum, but tell me yourself.

Forgive me, Emily. Everything just happened this way. Cant change any of it nowfour kids, and all that, I stammered.

Thats fine, Tom. Weve met, weve reminiscedthats enough. Only, be gentler with your mum, she suffers over you still, she pleaded.

I gazed at Emily, unable to look away. Time seemed to have left her untouchedstill as lovely, still as captivating. I took her hand and kissed it softly.

Emily, I love youjust like when we were young. But our love passed us by. Cant rewrite our story now. Im sorry.

She smiled, gently, Youd better go, Tom. Its late. She was drawing a line under this chapter.

But how could I just walk away?

A tidal wave of feeling swept over mea wild longing, a deep ache. Id never felt anything like it.

In the morning, I slipped out while Emily slept peacefully.

After that we met in secret for three years. Then Emilys family moved to the suburbs, and our connection was broken forever.

Miranda and I divorced when the children were grown. Mum had been right all alongthat woman was nothing but a rogue, trampling over my life and breaking my heart along the way.

You can boil water forever, but itll always just be water.

And in the end, I had just one real family: my eldest son.