We Didn’t Let Our Daughter In: — But why didn’t you let her in? — Veronica finally voiced the question that had been haunting her. — You used to, always… Her mother gave a bitter smile. — Because I’m scared for you, Nicky. Do you think we don’t see how you cower in the corner when your sister barges in after midnight? How you hide your textbooks so she doesn’t ruin them? She looks at you and she’s angry. Angry because you’re normal. You’ve got another life ahead, and she’s already drowned hers in a bottle… Veronica shrank into her chair, frozen above her open textbooks — next door, the shouting had started again. Dad hadn’t even taken his coat off — he stood in the hallway, phone gripped tight, shouting. — Don’t try and spin me a story! — he roared. — What did you waste it all on? It’s only been two weeks since payday! Only two weeks, Larissa! From the kitchen, Tania peered out. She listened to her husband’s monologue for a minute, then asked, — Again? Valery just waved her away and put the phone on speaker — instantly, the sobbing came through. Veronica’s older sister was a natural at wringing pity — even from stone. But after years of torment, her parents had grown armour. — What do you mean “he threw you out”? — Valery started pacing the narrow hall. — He did right. Who’d put up with you being in that state all the time? Have you even looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You’re thirty and look like a battered dog. Veronica carefully cracked open her door just a little. — Dad, please… — the sobbing suddenly stopped. — He threw my things out into the stairwell. I’ve got nowhere to go. It’s raining out, it’s cold… Let me stay with you for a few days. Just to get some sleep. Mum lunged forward, wanting to grab the phone, but Valery turned away sharply. — No! — he cut in. — You’re not coming here. We agreed last time, remember? After you pawned the TV while we were away at the cottage, you’re barred from this house! — Mum! Mum, talk to him! — the phone shrieked. Tania buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. — Larissa, how could you… — she said flatly, not looking at her husband. — We took you to the doctors. You promised. They said the last treatment would last three years. You didn’t even make it a month! — Those treatments are rubbish! — Larissa snapped, her tone shifting from pitiful to vicious. — They just want your money! I feel awful, don’t you get it? Everything inside me’s on fire, I can’t breathe! And you’re on about the television… That’s what you care about! I’ll get you a new one! — And how would you pay for it? — Valery stared at the wall. — With what money? Blew it all again, didn’t you? Begged more off those mates of yours? Or nicked something from that boyfriend of yours? — Doesn’t matter! — Larissa shouted. — Dad, I have no place to go! You want me living under a bridge? — Try a shelter. Go where you like, — his voice was chillingly calm. — You’re not coming here. I’ll change the locks if I see you at our door. Veronica sat on her bed, hugging her knees. Usually, when her sister pushed her parents to breaking point, their anger ricocheted back at her. — Why are you just sitting there? On your phone again? You’ll turn out useless like your sister! — words she’d heard for three years. But today, they’d forgotten all about her. No one yelled, no one nagged. Dad cut the call, hung up his coat, and both her parents moved to the kitchen. Veronica crept carefully into the hall. — Val, you can’t, — her mother pleaded. — She’ll end up lost. You know what she’s like… when she’s like this. She can’t even control herself. — And do you expect me to control her? — Dad slammed the kettle down. — I’m fifty-five, Tanya. I just want to come home and sit in my chair. I’m tired of hiding my wallet under the pillow! I’m tired of neighbours complaining they saw her in the stairwell with unsavoury types, or that she mouthed off at them! — She’s our daughter, — mum whispered. — She was our daughter up to twenty. Now she’s just draining the life from us. She’s a hopeless drunk, Tanya. That can’t be cured unless she actually wants it. And she doesn’t. She likes living this way. Wake up, find a little bottle, polish it off and pass out! The phone rang again. The parents went quiet, then Dad answered. — Hello. — Dad… — Larissa again. — I’m sitting at the train station. Cops are walking around, they’ll pick me up if I stay. Please… — Listen carefully, — Dad cut her off. — You’re not coming home. That’s it. — So I should just top myself? — there was a challenge in Larissa’s voice. — Is that what you want? A call from the morgue? Veronica froze. This was Larissa’s classic. When nothing else worked, she’d play this card. It used to work. Mum would break down, Dad would clutch his chest, and soon there’d be money, food, or a place to stay. But today Dad was having none of it. — Don’t threaten, — he said. — You care too much about yourself for that. So. Here’s what we’ll do. — What? — there was hope in Larissa’s voice. — I’ll find you a room. Cheapest I can, on the edge of town. I’ll pay for the first month. And buy you some groceries. That’s all. After that—you’re on your own. Get work, sort yourself out, you’ll be fine. If not—you’re out on the street and I won’t give a damn. — A room? Not a flat? Dad, I can’t do it alone. I’m scared. And the neighbours could be awful. I haven’t even got bedding, that bastard kept everything! — Mum’ll pack some sheets. We’ll leave them with the warden for you. Don’t come up to the flat, I warned you. — You’re heartless! — Larissa screamed again. — Kicking your own daughter out! Into some dump! You’re in your big flat and I’m left to skulk like a rat? Mum couldn’t take it, grabbed the phone. — Enough, Larissa! — she yelled so loud Veronica jumped. — Your father’s right! This is your only chance. Room or street. Decide now, because tomorrow you won’t even get the room! There was silence. — Fine, — Larissa muttered at last. — Send me the address. And some money… my card, now. I’m starving. — No money, — Valery cut her off. — I’ll get the food and give it to you in a bag. I know what you’d spend cash on. He ended the call. Veronica figured now was the time. She went to the kitchen, acting like she wanted a drink. She braced herself for the usual blast of pent-up resentment. Dad would look at her t-shirt and tell her she looked scruffy. Mum would complain she didn’t care—the family had problems and she didn’t even notice. But neither parent even looked at her. — Veron, — mum called softly. — Yes, mum? — In the cupboard, top shelf, there are some old sheets and pillowcases. Pack them into that blue bag in the closet, okay? — Sure, Mum. Veronica set about her task. She wondered: how will Larissa manage? She can’t even cook pasta. And her habit… Veronica just knew her sister wouldn’t last two days sober. She came back into her parents’ room, climbed a stool, pulled out the linens. — Don’t forget towels! — Dad called from the kitchen. — Already packed them, — Veronica called back. She saw Dad go to the hallway, put on his boots and leave, saying nothing. Guess he’s off to find that “dump,” she thought. Veronica went into the kitchen. Mum was still sitting, unmoving. — Mum, want me to get your tablets? — Veronica asked quietly. Mum looked up. — You know, Nick… — she started in a hollow tone. — When she was little, I thought she’d be my helper when she grew up. We’d talk about everything, just us. But now I just sit here and hope… she doesn’t forget that address. Just—makes it there… — She’ll make it, — Veronica perched on the chair. — She always lands on her feet. — Not this time, — mum shook her head. — Her eyes are different now. Empty. Like there’s nothing left inside, just a shell that needs that poison to keep going. And I see how you’re afraid of her… Veronica was silent. She’d always thought her parents had never noticed her fear, too caught up saving “lost cause” Larissa. — I thought you didn’t care about me, — she whispered. Mum stroked her hair. — We do care. But we can’t go on. You know how, in planes, they say put your oxygen mask on first, then your child’s? We spent ten years putting her mask on. Ten years, Nicky! We tried clinics, churches, specialists. And we almost suffocated ourselves. The doorbell rang. Veronica flinched. — Is it her? — she asked, frightened. — No, Dad’s got the keys. Probably grocery delivery, he ordered some bits. Veronica opened the door. The delivery man handed over two heavy bags. She unpacked them on the kitchen table: pasta, tins, tea, oil, sugar. The basics. — She won’t eat this, — Veronica said, putting aside the packet of buckwheat. — She only eats ready meals. — If she wants to live, she’ll cook, — her mum snapped, old firmness in her voice. — We’ve spoiled her enough. Our pity’ll be the death of her. An hour later, Dad came back. He looked like he’d worked three back-to-back shifts. — Found it, — he announced. — Keys are here. Landlady’s strict, retired teacher. Told me straight: the first smell of drink or a single row, she’s out without a word. I told her, “Throw her out right away if you have to.” — Oh, Valery… — mum sighed. — What? No point lying. She deserves to know. Dad grabbed the bag and groceries, headed out. — I’ll leave them with the warden. I’ll text her the address. Veronica, lock up tight behind me. Don’t answer the phone if it rings. Dad left, and Mum went and cried, locked in the kitchen. Veronica’s heart ached. How can it be? She doesn’t live, just stumbles from drink to drink, and won’t let Mum and Dad live either… *** Their hopes were dashed — a week later, Valery got a call from the landlady: their daughter had been chucked out with the police after bringing three men to the flat for an all-nighter. Once again, the parents couldn’t abandon her — Larissa was sent to a rehab centre. A secure one, where they promised to cure even the worst. Maybe, just maybe, there’s still hope… ***(Adapted for an English cultural context and idioms, while retaining names, details, and specifics of the original.)***

Didnt Let the Daughter Cross the Threshold

– Why didnt you let her in? I finally asked my mum a question that had been tearing at me all day. You always used to let her in before

Mum gave a bitter little smile.
– Because Im afraid for you, Alice. Do you think we dont notice how you shrink into the corner every time your sister bursts in at all hours of the night? How you hide your textbooks so she doesnt ruin them? She looks at you and gets angry. Angry because youre normal. You have a future ahead of you hers drowned in a bottle ages ago.

I hunched my head over my open book, just as an argument flared up again next door.

Dad hadnt even taken off his coat yet. He was standing in the hall gripping his mobile, shouting.

– Dont try your lies on me! he roared down the line. Two weeks, Mary! Two weeks since you got paid, and wheres it all gone?

Mum, Janet, poked her head around the kitchen door. After a moment of listening to Dads tirade she asked:

– Again?

Brian just waved his hand in the air and turned the speakerphone on. On the other end, the sobs began.

My older sister Mary had a way with tears she could wring pity from a stone. But our parents, after so many years, had grown a thick skin.

– What do you mean, hes thrown you out? Brian started pacing the narrow hallway. Too right he has! Who would put up with this never-ending drunken mess? When was the last time you looked at yourself? Youre thirty and your face looks like youve lost a dog.

Carefully, I edged my bedroom door open just a crack.

– Dad, please The crying suddenly stopped. Hes put my things out in the stairwell. Ive nowhere to go. Its cold and raining. Please, can I come back? Just for a couple of nights. I only need to sleep.

Mum jerked forward, wanting to grab the phone, but Dad turned away sharply.

– No! he said flatly. Youre not coming in. We settled this last time. After you pawned the telly while we were at the cottage the doors shut to you!

– Mum! Mum, tell him! Marys wails came through the phone.

Janet covered her face in her hands and her shoulders shook.

– Mary, how could you she said, voice dull, not even looking at Dad. We took you to the doctors. You promised. That last treatment was meant to last three years, they said. You didnt even make a month!

– Those treatments are useless! Mary snapped back, her sobbing instantly turning to anger. They just want your money! I feel awful, you know? Like Im burning up from the inside! But youre going on about the telly… Hes welcome to it! Ill buy you a new one!

– With what money? Brian suddenly stopped and stared at a spot on the wall. With what, after youve blown the lot? More loans from your mates? Or did you steal something else from that boyfriend of yours?

– Doesnt matter! Mary shouted. Dad, Ive got nowhere to live! Do you want me sleeping under a bridge?

– Go to a council shelter. Go wherever you like, Dads voice was chillingly calm. Youre not coming here. Ill change the locks if I see you near the house.

I sat on my bed, knees hugged to my chest.

Usually, when my sister pushed my parents to breaking point like this, the anger ricocheted off me.

– Why are you just sitting about? On your phone again? Youll end up just like your sister, a waste of space! Those words, spat over the last three years.

But tonight, no one even noticed me.

No shouting, no snapping. Dad hung up, took off his coat, and both parents drifted to the kitchen.

I emerged cautiously into the hallway.

– Brian, you cant Mum was saying, voice shaking. Shell be ruined, completely lost. You know what shes like when shes like that.

Shes out of control.

– And Im meant to control her? Dad slammed a kettle on the hob. Im fifty-five, Janet. All I want is to sit in peace in my armchair after work. Not hide my wallet under the pillow! Not listen to the neighbours complain about her hanging around the stairwell with all sorts and mouthing off!

– Shes our daughter, Mum said, almost whispering.

– She was our daughter till she was twenty. Now, shes just sucking the life out of us. Shes a hopeless case, Janet. You cant fix someone who doesnt want to be fixed. She likes living this way: wakes up, finds her bottle, glugs it down, and forgets about everything.

The phone rang again.

They both went very quiet. Then Dad answered.

– Yes?

– Dad Mary again. Im sitting at the train station. The police are making rounds. Ill get picked up if I stay.

Please

– Listen carefully, Dad cut her off. You are not coming home. Thats final.

– So what then? You want me to top myself? Marys voice turned hard. Is that it? Want the coroner to call you up from the morgue?

I froze. This was the card Mary always played when every other argument failed.

It used to work. Mum would break down sobbing, Dad would clutch at his chest, and theyd send her money, let her stay, feed and clean her up.

Tonight, though, Dad wasnt having it.

– Dont threaten, he said quietly. You love yourself too much for that. This is what will happen.

– What? There was a glimmer of hope in Marys tone.

– Ill find you a room. Cheapest I can manage, on the outskirts. Ill pay a months rent. Give you some money for groceries. Thats it. After that, youre on your own. Get a job, get your act together, youll be alright. If not youll be out on the street, and I wont care.

– Just a room? Not a flat? Dad, I cant live alone. Im scared And who knows who the neighbours are. How am I meant to rent with nothing? He kept all my bedding!

– Your mumll pack some sheets in a bag, leave it with the concierge. Collect it yourself. Youre not coming in, I warned you.

– Youre monsters! Mary screamed. Your own daughter, cast out like a rat! Youve a three-bed house and you want me to scuttle in some hole!

Mum snapped and grabbed the phone.

– Mary, thats enough! she shouted so loud I flinched. Your fathers right. This is your one and only chance. Take the room or take the street. Decide now tomorrow, even the room will be gone!

Silence from the other end.

– Fine, Mary mumbled at last. Send me the address. And can you transfer some money? Im starving.

– No money, Dad replied, and his voice was steel. Ill buy you food and leave it with the bedding. I know what food youll spend money on.

He hung up.

I figured it was time to move. I wandered into the kitchen, pretending I only wanted a glass of water.

Most times, this is when Id get the brunt of everything built up; Dad would look at my sleep shirt and call me a slob. Mum would say I didnt care that with all theyre going through, I just drifted about like nothings wrong.

Tonight, they didnt even look my way.

– Alice, Mum called gently.

– Yeah, Mum?

– In the top of the wardrobe the old sheets and pillowcases. Put them in that blue holdall in the cupboard, would you?

– Alright, Mum.

I set to it, shaking out the dusty bag, folding all the tired linen.

I couldnt understand how Mary was supposed to manage on her own. She couldnt even boil pasta. And that habit of hers

I knew she wouldnt last two days without drink.

Back in their room, I clambered onto a stool, reaching for the towels.

– Dont forget towels! Dad called.

– Already packed them, I said.

I watched as Dad pulled on his shoes and left with barely a word, off most likely to find that hole for Mary.

I walked into the kitchen. Mum sat as she had been, unmoving.

– Mum, do you want a tablet or something? I asked quietly, stepping closer.

She looked up, eyes tired.

– You know, Alice she began, voice oddly flat. When she was little, I thought shed be my help. That wed talk about everything. Now now I just hope she can remember the address of that room. I just hope she makes it there

– Shell manage, I said, perching at the edge of the chair. She always finds a way.

– Not this time, Mum shook her head. Her eyes are different now. Empty. Like theres nothing left inside but the craving.

She paused. I see the way youre frightened of her

I was silent. Id always thought they never noticed how scared I was, always so busy trying to save lost cause Mary.

– I thought you didnt care about me, I whispered.

Mum stroked my hair.

– We care, but weve got nothing left. Like on a plane fit your own mask first, then the childs. We tried for ten years to fix her. Ten years, Alice. We tried therapy, treatment, folk healers, expensive clinics. In the end nearly suffocated ourselves.

A buzz at the door. I jumped.

– Is it her? I asked.

– No, your dads got the only spare keys. Food delivery, maybe. He ordered groceries.

I answered the door. The delivery driver handed me two heavy bags.

I unpacked them in the kitchen: oats, tinned soup, oil, tea, sugar. No treats.

– She wont eat this, I said, putting the buckwheat to the side. She only wants ready meals.

– Shell cook if she wants to live, Mum replied sharply. For a moment, her old spirit flared. No more coddling. Our pity will kill her.

An hour later, Dad was back, looking as if hed worked a triple shift.

– Sorted, he told us. Got the keys. Landladys a strict old schoolteacher. Said one whiff or hint of trouble and out she goes. I told her, Just throw her out.

– Brian Mum sighed.

– No point lying to people. Let her know what shes in for.

He grabbed the packed bag and groceries and headed for the door.

– Ill leave everything with the concierge. Ill ring Mary and tell her where. And Alice lock the door, all the locks. If the landline rings, dont answer.

He left, and Mum collapsed in the kitchen, sobbing.

My heart ached. How had it come to this? Mary wasnt living just barely existing between binges, and dragging my parents down with her

***

My parents hopes didnt last the week. A call from the landlady Mary had let three strange men into her room and partied til dawn. The police sent her packing.

Even then, Mum and Dad couldnt leave her on the streets. Mary was sent off to a rehab centre strict, high security, a years treatment promised for hopeless cases.

Who knows, maybe this time a miracle really will happen

Diary reflection:

Its a strange thing, feeling both relief and guilt. Tonight I realised my parents always did care, even when it felt like theyd forgotten I existed. Their strength finally broke and maybe now, finally, with everyones boundaries set, we might all learn how to live for ourselves, even in the shadows of someone elses storm.