36
My mother is getting ready in front of the mirror and I watch her affectionately. She’s come back to me.
“Come on,” she urges me to get out of bed. “If you have nothing to do, you can clean the house.
“Okay,” I reply and jump out of bed. The terrible day has arrived, but I won’t be paralyzed by fear. We’re together and we’re stronger than ever.
“When are they supposed to come?” I ask from the bathroom.
“They said I have until midnight,” she answers calmly.
“Midnight,” I mutter to myself in disgust. I’ve turned into the Cinderella from hell. All the damn events happen at midnight.
“I'll be back at noon,” she calls, and I hear the front door close. I make myself a cup of coffee and two slices of toast. I don’t really have an appetite, but I’m not in the mood for my mother’s lectures and I know that this will be a long day. I turn on my cellphone and hear the continuous beeps telling me that I have new messages. I go through the messages from the last twenty-four hours – they are all from Liam:
Elena, where are you?
Call me.
Whatever happened, I’m here to help you.
Answer your fucking phone already.
If you’re trying to drive me crazy, you’ve succeeded. Call me ASAP.
The truce ended today.
Let me know that you’re alive.
Suddenly, I notice a message from Professor Sawyer:
Elena, I’ve gone to the conference. I’ll see you when I get back.
Collision of worlds , I think in frustration. And now neither of those worlds is mine. I’m caught in between . I refuse to leave heaven, but I won’t give up hell.
I turn off the phone and turn on my laptop. “I love you, Johanna!” I shout and hug the computer when I see she has sent me more summaries and yesterday’s work. I concentrate on my studies for hours until the door opens, and my mother announces she is back.
“Have you eaten?” she peeks at my computer screen.
“Yes,” I reply proudly.
“Are you still busy with that nonsense?” she boils water in the kettle and hangs up her purse. “I'll never understand your choice of your major.” She makes herself a cup of coffee. “All those strange formulas. What will you be able to do with it when you graduate? You are so clever. Why didn’t you study business, or medicine, or law?”
“Mom, we’ve had this discussion so many times,” I answer calmly, as I continue to read through the summaries. “I love it, I’m good at it and I hope one day you’ll come to a ceremony where I'll get my doctorate. Maybe when I’m a professor, you’ll finally be proud of me.”
“I'm proud of you already,” she says immediately, and I look at her suspiciously. “Don’t look at me like that,” she laughs. “I suppose I have to complain about something all the time, but I really am proud of you.” She turns back and starts preparing a salad. “I tell everyone that my daughter is a physics genius. I even did some research on the internet.”
“You did?” I feel like I am talking to a stranger.
“Yes, I did,” she smiles at me proudly. “I was interested in the practical aspect of your studies in today’s world.”
“And what did you find?” I find it hard to believe that this is really my mother talking.
“Oh, well, I can’t remember,” she giggles. “All sorts of things that I didn’t really understand. But I did understand one thing,” she turns serious. “That there is a chance that my daughter will go down in history books.”
“Mom,” I scratch my head in embarrassment. “I don’t know if that will happen—”
“It will if you want it enough,” she says, and puts a pot of water on the stove. I know how much you want it.” She sighs.
I’m speechless. On the one hand, I’m so happy she acknowledges me. On the other hand, I really don’t understand why she behaved the way she did all those years.
After lunch she goes to the bedroom and I return to my computer. I feel such rare calm that I wish time could stop.
“You shouldn't be sitting in front of your computer for so long,” I hear her scolding me and I turn it off.
She comes closer and I look at her. She showered, immaculately dressed and wearing makeup. “Let's drink some coffee, and then you'll help me clean the house,” she says as she fills the kettle. There’s a loud knock on the door and she turns to me in terror.
“It’s only seven p.m.,” I whisper. “Maybe it’s not them.”
“Nobody else comes to see me here.” She puts the kettle down and starts walking to the door. “You have to hide. I won't be able to watch them threatening you,” she whispers firmly.
“Mom, I’m not leaving you alone with them!”
“Elena, you will do as I say.” She signals me to enter the small bathroom across the front door. I shake my head no and grimace in annoyance, but she signals that I should remain quiet and ushers me into the bathroom. She makes sure that the bathroom's door is closed, and I kneel down and peek through the keyhole.
When she straightens up and opens the door, I’m convinced that she’s the bravest woman I have ever met.
Three young men burst inside and she’s pushed against the wall. They look younger than me, but their expressions are evil and hateful.
“Where’s our money, Mama?” one of the men, who has a snake tattooed on his arm, places his hand around her neck. I clench my fists and struggle not to leave the room.
“I have until midnight,” she replies calmly.
“So the box with our cash is on its way?” another man asks sarcastically and kicks her legs. I stifle a shout, but she doesn’t even blink.
“Look, I've thought about it,” her voice is steady, even though the man’s arm is still wrapped around her neck. “There is not a chance that I will be able to get the whole amount by midnight. But if you kill me, you’ll never get it—”
“What did you say?” the man holding her neck slaps her hard, and I put my hand on the door handle. She shakes her head as if she's watching me and I let go of the handle, trembling.
“I was going to say that if you agree to let me make payments, you will receive all the money. It will take some time, but—”
The guy slaps her again and the third one, who was standing by the door until now, punches her in the stomach. She groans in pain and shakes her head again. Tears fill my eyes and I realize that if I’d thought I was in hell before, I was wrong. This is hell and there is nothing worse.
“She thinks we’re a bank?” one of them asks and laughs and his friends join in. My stomach boils, I feel sick, and I put my hand on my mouth.
“I already have some.” Their laughter doesn’t seem to affect her. “Here, I’ll get it for you.” The man takes his arm off her neck and she disappears from my sight. When she returns she gives them a wad of bills. “There is 2,000 dollars here and I will give you more each month.”
The guy with the snake tattoo takes the money, looks at it, and then slaps her hard again. She sways but stands up straight again.
“You’re a little confused, Mama. This is nothing, this is just part of the interest.” He holds her against the wall by her neck and looks at his friends with an evil expression. “I have an idea,” he says, smiling and revealing a gold tooth. “If she doesn’t get the money by midnight, we’ll take her to Carlos’s cave. I hear they like older women there. He’ll give us a good price for her. Who will look for that old bitch?”
“I am not old,” she says, offended. I can’t believe that she chooses to answer them about something as stupid as that.
“You don’t look too bad, Mama.” He puts his other hand on her chest, and I feel my stomach turn. “But in Carlos’s cave you’re old.” All three laugh and I close my eyes and pray for the nausea to subside. “In other words, an old bitch.” He takes his hand away from her chest and wipes it on his shirt. “We’re men of our word. You have until midnight to get the money or we’ll drag you by that long hair and get our money from Carlos. Remember that once you go in there, the only place to go after that is the graveyard.” They laugh again, and after each of them gives her one more humiliating slap, they leave and slam the door.
I turn around to the toilet, raise the lid and vomit. I stand up heavily and walk out to the hallway, where my beautiful, classy mother is lying on the floor, groaning in pain and crying.