Mama and Papa had been fighting more than usual lately. They might start arguing because of a note that fell out of Papa’s pants pocket when Mama was doing the laundry. Or because he came home late, and she demanded to know where he’d been. Papa never answered her questions or apologized, just tossed out some sarcastic remark. That would really set Mama off, and soon accusations would be flying. She would spew the names of various women, and each time they fought, a new name would be added to the list. Papa’s response, however, never varied. Cunt.
And within minutes, Mama would surrender in defeat. I could never understand why her anger would disappear at that moment. Couldn’t figure out why she would capitulate like that. But that’s what happened. My mother devoted her days to helping others, mostly women, stand on their own two feet and confront deceitful spouses, who were sometimes also abusive. People who knew my mother described her as strong, competent, and reliable. No one knew that, in her own home, she showed a completely different side of herself. No one knew but me, that is. And Ruth.
“Mama!”
I stepped forward and knocked impatiently on the door frame.
“Mama, aren’t we going? Come on!”
We took the bus to the station in town. That was where we’d catch the regional train to Grandma’s. Mama sat silently on the seat next to me, staring out the bus window at all the greenery. I tried talking about various topics, like my latest bike ride or a program I’d seen on TV, but I could tell she just wasn’t interested, and soon I fell silent too.
At the station Mama looked up at the board listing arrival and departure times and frowned. She muttered something about delays, so we rolled our suitcases over to a bench and sat down to wait. We spent the rest of the afternoon sitting there. Our train was delayed three times, and each time, Mama stood up to voice her frustration before compliantly returning to the bench. I thought it was the same pattern as when she fought with my father, but I didn’t say that out loud.
Finally, an announcement was made: all southbound trains were canceled for the rest of the evening due to a downed electrical line. We got our money for the tickets back and were offered reservations on one of the early departures the following morning. The bus ride home was even more silent, if that was possible. By the time Mama stuck her key in the lock and opened the door to our apartment, she’d hardly said a word to me. I wondered whether she really wanted to take me with her to see Grandma anyway. Maybe she would have preferred to go alone. That’s what I was thinking as we stepped into the front hall. But I soon had other things to think about.
There were no lights on in the apartment, and at first, I thought Papa wasn’t home. But then I heard a sound. Tense whispering and excited giggles. I looked at Mama standing next to me and saw her body stiffen. She’d heard it too.
“Hello?” she called out. “Is anyone there?”
Then Mama did something so unlike her that my throat closed up. Normally, she insisted that everything be nice and neat, but now she marched straight in without taking off her shoes. I knew something was wrong, terribly wrong. Her footsteps echoed off the parquet floor. The next second, something white fluttered at the other end of the apartment. A woman’s naked body came rushing out of the living room, heading for the bathroom. I managed to glimpse a big rear end, shaped like a full moon, before it disappeared with the rest of the woman. The bathroom door slammed shut, and I heard it lock from the inside.
Mama squared her shoulders and paused for a moment. Then she continued to the living room and looked in. I was still standing on the doormat and couldn’t see what Mama saw, but I heard what she said.
“You bastard!”
She took me over to Ruth’s. We already had our suitcases packed, and she dragged them along as we stormed out of the apartment. Nobody followed us; nobody tried to call us back. Despite pulling both suitcases, Mama was practically running. I was tired from the bus rides, not to mention sitting in the train station all afternoon, so I had a hard time keeping up. Besides, I was hungry. I begged her to slow down several times, but she never did.
As soon as Ruth opened the door, Mama burst into tears. Ruth motioned for us to come in and didn’t seem the least surprised by my mother’s reaction. Maybe she’d been through this before, on occasions when I wasn’t there. Ruth led us into the kitchen, pulled out a chair for Mama and then sat down too. I hesitantly looked around the apartment for something to occupy me, but I saw only books, crocheted tablecloths, and dried flowers. It occurred to me that Ruth was alone. Clearly no husband or children lived here. Just Ruth and two cats.
I played with the cats for a while, until they’d obviously had enough. Then I went back to the kitchen, where Mama and Ruth were emptying the dishwasher.
“But I still don’t understand it,” said Mama in despair. “How could he? How the hell could he?”
She handed some plates to her friend, who put them away in the cupboard. Ruth seemed a little stern, almost disapproving. She probably thought it was time for us to leave her alone. I suddenly felt completely exhausted. But it wasn’t just my body that was tired, it was all of me. I was worn out, sick of being dragged around.
“Mama, I want to go home.”
She didn’t answer. Didn’t even turn around. She just raised her hand and waved me away. As if she were swatting at an insect. Under normal circumstances, that would have been enough for me to give up and retreat, but I wasn’t thinking the same way I always had before. Things looked different now. I stared at my mother’s back. I was her child, and I was hungry and tired, but she didn’t seem to care. She didn’t care at all.
“I want to go home now!” I repeated, louder and more insistent.
She still didn’t turn around. Merely glanced over her shoulder to let me know that we were going to stay awhile longer. And she kept on talking to Ruth. I don’t know what it was, but at that moment, I felt something stab inside me, something that felt like a sharp spear. Before I knew it, I went over to Mama and yanked on her sweater.
“Right now!” I shouted.
Ruth pressed her lips together, in what was presumably an attempt to smile, with a faint, accusatory twitching at the corners of her mouth.
“Now, now, now!”
When Mama finally looked down at me, her face was stony. She pulled out of my grasp.
“Listen to me, Greta. We’re staying here until I say it’s time to go. Do you understand?”
Then she turned her back on me again, shutting me out. It was a familiar situation, but this time I had no intention of quietly complying. I was going to make my mother listen to me. I wasn’t going to settle for anything less than her full attention. The first time the words slipped out, they were so quiet I hardly heard them myself. When I said them again, I made a great effort to enunciate each word, feeling them rise up from my stomach and spill, full force, out of my mouth.
“You cunt!”
Everything stopped. Even time seemed to stand still. The words seemed to linger in the room, hovering over us for a moment. Only afterward did they seem real. Mama and Ruth stopped talking so abruptly that it was like someone had flipped a switch. As if in slow motion, Mama spun around to look at me. I saw her hand reach out, saw it come whistling through the air. And even before it struck my cheek, my face burned like a thousand fires.
All three of us stared at each other. None of us said a word. Ruth’s hand fluttered up to her mouth. Finally, Mama cracked, falling to her knees in front of me and wrapping me in her arms. It probably took no more than a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity before she made an effort to bridge the distance between us. The words poured out of her so quickly that I felt dizzy just listening to them.