The first morning rays of the summer sun peeked cautiously through the windowpane of the room, as if afraid to disturb the sweet moments of someone’s sleep. The women were indeed still asleep. Only the old woman lying by the window had been awake for a long time. Memories from the past gripped her heart with pain and warmed her soul. Vera smiled at times, then wiped away an unbidden tear.
Why did it happen that, on the threshold of her nineties, she became unwanted by anyone? Her heart ached most for her daughter, for Ellen. No matter what had happened, Vera was ready to forgive her only daughter. She could live out her days in this nursing home for the elderly. How many years, or perhaps months, or even just days, did she have left? She only wished that Ellen would visit her at least once. Vera would then ask her daughter for forgiveness, though she herself didn’t know for what. That was all the old mother wanted now. And then she could calmly await death. But for now, only God saw how she suffered, how she agonized over the estrangement from her own child. She told her roommates nothing, for who needed someone else’s sorrows? Everyone here had their own story, because no one ended up in a nursing home out of a good life.
At six years old, Vera lost her mother. Her older brother was ten at the time, and her younger sister was just two. All the burdens fell on their father’s shoulders. When the war began, the Germans took her brother. No word of him ever came. Her father went to the front and never returned. Vera, still a child, was taken to dig trenches. A mine exploded nearby once. Those closer to it died instantly, but a shard hit Vera in the tailbone. That’s when her troubles began. The wound festered, and though she was treated, the relief was only temporary. Sick or not, she had to work. She needed to live somehow. Alone in this world, like a lone finger.
She first got a job on the railway, but the heavy physical labor drained her strength completely. Then she found work at a factory. It wasn’t easy there either, being disabled. Some friends knew of her misfortune and advised her not to tell anyone. No one would marry her. But Vera knew that love didn’t care about such things. And then her fate found her. Robert was ten years older. But he was kind, caring. He held a managerial position at the factory but never boasted about it. The young couple lived in harmony. Yet, for some reason, God didn’t send them children for a long time. Vera worried terribly that her husband might find another woman. Robert reassured her, saying whatever would be, would be—he wouldn’t leave her because he loved her.
These memories now warmed the old woman’s soul. Vera also recalled with fondness the time when she finally became pregnant. How overjoyed Robert was when he heard the happy news! He even cried. How he worried about his wife, how he cared for her. Soon, their daughter Ellen was born. She grew up smart, obedient, and did well in school. Without any trouble or connections, she got into college. There she met her destiny. Her son-in-law, Steven, was very much liked by her parents. They welcomed him as their own son.
Steven often had to travel for work. That’s when Vera began to notice that her daughter frequently came home from work tipsy. At first, the mother was too ashamed to say anything, but then she gathered the courage. Ellen blushed, burst into tears, and promised it wouldn’t happen again. But it didn’t last long. When Steven returned from his trips, Ellen was the model wife. But once, during another of his absences, she got so drunk she could barely stand. Again, Vera tried to shame her daughter, but this time Ellen snapped back sharply that it was none of her business.
The mother kept silent. Her daughter was her own flesh and blood—whom could she tell? She tried to ensure neither the neighbors nor her son-in-law noticed anything. She hoped it would pass. When Ellen got pregnant, everything did seem to fall into place. How Vera rejoiced! She even forgot about her own ailments. Then the young couple had a boy. A year later, another. The grandparents were overjoyed with their grandsons. It seemed there could be no greater happiness in life.
But trouble never sleeps. Robert suddenly died of a heart attack. Vera thought she wouldn’t survive the loss. And after some time, Ellen started drinking again. She drank more and more often. Steven forgave his wife each time, thinking she’d come to her senses. But she didn’t. Worse, she found a lover, another alcoholic, and kicked Steven out of the house.
From then on, Vera’s life became unbearable. When Ellen and her new partner came home and caused a scene, Vera would take the children and escape through the window. Thankfully, the apartment was on the first floor. There was no hiding it—neighbors saw everything. More than once, they said:
— Vera, call the police, because she’s gone too far.
But the mother couldn’t fathom turning her own daughter over to the police. Yet one day, when Ellen, her partner, and their rowdy friends went too far, the neighbors called the authorities themselves. Even now, Ellen is convinced it was her mother who did it. Vera would have endured anything to spare her child the shame. She’d never have aired their dirty laundry, as they say.
Then Ellen decided to have her mother committed to a psychiatric hospital. Though a drinker, she was cunning and thought she could pull it off without a hitch. But it didn’t work. So Vera suggested to her daughter that they split the apartment, promising to take her two grandsons to live with her.
— You live as you please. Maybe one day you’ll wake up, — she told her daughter.
— Why split it? You’ll die soon anyway! — Ellen shot back.
Ellen doesn’t work anywhere. Her ex-husband pays her substantial alimony, and she drinks it away. Vera endured for years. More than once, a drunken Ellen would burst into her mother’s room, yelling, even hitting the old woman. Then the older grandson installed a lock on his grandmother’s door. Often, Vera couldn’t even go out to eat, fearing her daughter’s wrath. More than once, Ellen, in her frenzy to get to her mother, hacked at the door.
When the grandsons grew up and started earning their own money, Vera herself asked to go to the nursing home. Here, she’s doing well, and compared to the hell she lived through, it’s practically paradise. But her heart still aches for her own child. She wants nothing from her daughter—let her live as she chooses. The only thing the old woman desires is that Ellen not hold a grudge against her. Vera feels no guilt.
— Everything I have, our apartment with my husband, I’m leaving to my daughter, — the woman says. — Some suggested I find caregivers to look after me until I pass. But how could I take the roof from over my own daughter’s head?
The sun’s rays now boldly streamed through the window. The women in the room were still asleep, but Vera quietly wiped away a tear. She’s been feeling poorly lately, but she holds on. She must hold on. Because she desperately wants to reconcile with her daughter.
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