Just a couple of hours ago my daughter had gone out to meet her boyfriend’s parents in a state of euphoria. Sophie returned much earlier than I’d expected, and from the look in her eyes, she was in a very different mood.
– Why didn’t you tell me anything? – Shouted daughter. – Why am I being told by strangers that I’m not the one their son should be with?!
Sophie threw her sandals into the corner, collapsed on the couch, and burst into tears. I tried to calm her down, but my daughter threw my hand off and didn’t want to communicate. Finally, the sobbing stopped, I brought water, sat Sophie down next to me, and asked:
– What’s wrong?
– Paul’s parents spoke very badly of you, and said that a mother like you could not have raised a normal daughter. What were you hiding from me? After all, they know it all!
I hugged my daughter, and began my confession. I had to go back to those years, when after school I found myself in a student dormitory in another city, and I saw all the freedom one could imagine. My studies were quickly overshadowed, after the first session I had problems with passing my tests, my grades were dotted with “failures,” and I still could not stop having fun around the clock. I started with alcohol, and gradually moved on to the “serious” moments, as my seniors said. Weed became my motivation for life, and without a few cigarettes of marijuana I soon had no idea how to get through the day. The day changed to night, discos, people’s apartments also flashed like in a kaleidoscope…
One day I woke up because it was hard to breathe. I could hardly open my eyes, and saw a room in which the sleeping bodies of strangers were lying asleep. I staggered to the window, opened it, and was refreshed by the cold autumn air. I looked around the room one more time, and realized that I had reached the bottom, and I had to do something about it, so as not to break through it and go even deeper…
The front door was unlocked. On my way out, I ran into my neighbor, obviously eavesdropping at the threshold. Glancing at me, the elderly woman went on the attack:
– How much longer! It’s been no peace for a day now, I’m going to call the police!
I apologized and hurriedly retreated down the stairs.
I had nowhere else to go. Being expelled from the institute entailed eviction from the dormitory, to come to my parents in such a state I could not, and there was only one thing to do – a specialized hospital.
The admissions office was surprised that I came alone, unaccompanied by relatives. After talking to the narcologist, I understood that a difficult course of rehabilitation was ahead of me, signed all the papers and checked myself into a room.
The six months of nightmare dragged on endlessly. My roommates were constantly changing, there were people who were both quite normal and had also decided to recover from addiction and others who provoked me to take a dose, giving me “just what I needed” even in the hospital.
I managed to stay away. When I was discharged, the doctor looked at me respectfully and wished me good luck.
I did not manage to find a normal job right away. My appearance and “previous history” did not work in my favor. I had to start with a yard broom and garbage cans. A big plus was the room in the dormitory allocated to me as a janitor.
In time I managed to get a job at the post office, where I met one of our drivers, with whom I gave birth to Sophie. Our relationship was good until my husband found out what I used to be. Supporting his fellow drivers was more important to him than his daughter and me. The only decent thing he did was to leave me his one-bedroom apartment, with the condition that he give up child support. The situation was desperate, so I agreed.
It was hard to raise my daughter alone, but I managed to get by, working part-time or full-time. Sophie had grown up smart, often helped me deliver newspapers and pensions, was a good student, and when she met Paul after school I was glad she had someone in her life who could take care of her.
And then there was this scandal. Apparently, the parents boyfriend through a “word of mouth” learned about my difficult youth, and tried to set my son to leave Sophie.
Thank God, my daughter’s future husband turned out to be a real man. Literally the next day he came to us with a large traveling bag and a bouquet of flowers:
– “Aunt Mary, will you throw me out? I decided before the wedding to move in with you, because it had become difficult to communicate with my parents …
I heard Sophie sobbing behind me, and I smiled at my future son-in-law:
– Where do you want to go? Come on, have a seat, someone is waiting for you …
The daughter threw herself on Paul’s neck, and then dragged him into the room.
In a small room, but not in offense – I moved to the couch in the kitchen, and the youth settled in our only room.
Paul’s parents changed their attitude toward Sophie, and, by extension, toward me. They gave the keys to the apartment to the young couple on their wedding day, of course there was some awkwardness in communication, but when our first grandchild arrived we established a good rapport. I did not remember that unfortunate meeting between my daughter and them, and they, in turn, made amends with their attention and care for the young family.
I must have been guilty of putting Sophie in a very difficult position, but Paul came to the right conclusion, for which I am very grateful.
