Give Me a Chance At Romance
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“The world is wide, but my heart has its boundaries. I will not leave this house to go on pilgrimage until there comes a time when all of the people are dead or all of the men in my life have gone,” she said.
I looked at her and smiled because she was right: The world is wide, but it’s not that wide! I’m going to take this chance, even if only for one night!” she cried as she stood up. “And you must promise me something else.”
My eyes widened with excitement. I didn’t know what she meant, though; so I took hold of her hand, and we both walked into the room together. She went straight to the wardrobe where I kept my sewing machine. She pulled out her little sewing kit and began taking pins from its box.
She put them back after she finished. Then she sat down on the floor to prepare herself. When she had finished putting all the pins back inside her pocketbook, she got off the chair, closed the door behind us, then lay down flat on the bed with her legs folded underneath her body like a mat.
We were alone now. There was no one but her and me, but we weren’t in any danger of being discovered; for our parents never left us home alone, and I had a key to open every lock in the house. I couldn’t get up, though, until I found a way to let myself out of this house… But how could I escape?
What would I do once I reached the street? And if anyone did see me, they would just think me mad and leave me be. No one cared about me except my mother, who would come for me in the morning and bring me back here.
It seemed impossible to believe I’d escaped from my home by magic. I tried to imagine myself outside the door, running away into the streets of the city. It didn’t seem possible, either. How much time had passed since then? Had I been asleep the whole time?
Or did she really save me—me, a girl who had never seen the city before—from being caught in such a terrible storm? All that happened was that she had taken my hand when I was ready to flee, and together we escaped through the window.
But now she wasn’t there anymore.
“Oh, please don’t look so scared!” My mother laughed. “You’re making such a fool of yourself.”
She was right: I had been terrified. That’s why I turned pale and ran toward the mirror hanging on the wall. I wanted to see her—to make sure she was there.
“What are you doing?” she asked. Her hair was loose over her shoulders; her face shone with sweat from the summer heat.
Her appearance reminded me of some story or other. She wore a long, simple white dress, which made her seem more beautiful than ever. And I realized I hadn’t stopped to think, and that I should have been surprised, but instead I felt a warm sensation in my stomach.
I could not help thinking of her: My mother, the girl who had saved me from being caught by my father… My mother! A stranger had entered the room, but she was really my mother!
As if she knew what I was thinking, she laughed again. Her smile made everything seem so natural; it was as if we had been waiting for each other all our lives.
A strange light filled my eyes, but I was too happy to mind. I was still holding onto her hand and staring at her face when she spoke: “Are you ready, my dear?”
“Yes,” I said, trying to answer her question.
But then I remembered.
That day was a long time ago, and it’s not likely that I will see her again. And yet this is the first time I’ve thought about how I might see her again.
When I opened my eyes, I saw someone standing next to me.
“You’ll see your mother soon,” my mother whispered. “Just close your eyes.”
I closed my eyes.
“Do you know who you want to see most?”
“I want to see my mother,” I replied.
So, for all these months since then, I have waited for her. In the dark, I had been waiting for my mother; waiting for her touch; waiting for her kiss; waiting to be held in her arms and told, “Welcome home.”
***
“How is the weather outside?” I asked. I knew the answer already, but I still wanted to hear her say it.
My mother laughed softly. “Not good.”
It was snowing hard. The sky was clear enough in the day’s morning twilight to tell me it had just rained, and when I looked out at the streets from my bedroom window, I saw that there were puddles everywhere, and there were also piles of wet clothes left out to dry on the balcony.
It was cold today; the wind was blowing hard and made the trees shake. We had been talking about the weather. I heard her laugh again.
“The rain has cleared the air a little bit, but now it’s raining again.”
“Oh,” I sighed.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Your father is going to pick you up tonight—we’re both meeting him.”
“Yes…”
There was something wrong with what she said. It didn’t sound like an answer to my question.
But I could only say one thing, even while I smiled—and that was, “I’m hungry.”
And that’s all there was to my reply. But I couldn’t sleep. I lay in bed and thought about what she had said. It seemed to me that there was an implication in her words, but I couldn’t quite make sense of it. What was she laughing about? I felt a sudden chill and looked out the window.
I could barely see the ground through the misty air. Even the moonlight seemed dimmer than usual; the snow glimmered silver in the shadows. The streets were covered with water.
My mother had been smiling at me as she answered me. “Yes—but you can eat first.”
She looked so young. How much time must have passed since I saw her last? I stared at my sister and couldn’t stop thinking of her as my mother. Her beauty was so radiant that it brought tears to my eyes. I tried to imagine what kind of life she led. Did she work somewhere?
Did she live in town or in the country? And where did my father go every night? When I thought about it, I was afraid to close my eyes. My heart beat faster, and my palms grew damp. There was no doubt about it: I would never see her again.
My mother’s face was so soft and gentle. As I listened, I could hear the same sweet melody in my head. Her voice sounded like music. I wanted to ask her to sing me to sleep. So, I nodded.
“All right, Mama,” I whispered, but she only smiled, shaking her head slightly.
The moment she said it, though, she let go of my hand and stood up.
“We must go now,” she said, taking my arm and pulling me to stand beside her. Her eyes were shining brightly, but I could still feel something sad and distant in them.
“Mama—”
But before I could finish speaking, she took my hand and kissed me on the forehead. Then she turned away and walked to the door, her back straight and her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
“Let’s go!” she called out to us as she opened the front door. The cold wind blew into the house and made her shiver. She went to the kitchen and poured herself some tea. I followed behind her, holding tight to my blanket. We sat down in two chairs set by the window.
My mother’s hair hung down across her face like a veil. She sipped her tea and waited until we had finished our meal before she spoke again. Then she gave me a hug and said, “Come on,” and led us into the hall.
“Are you warm enough?” I asked my mother.
Her eyes were bright, though a slight tremble betrayed her.
“Yes, yes…” she assured me. “Go get dressed,” she said to me in reply. “We’re leaving. You will come with us.”
I was frozen to the marrow as she looked at me; her gaze was so intense. Then she took my hands in hers and held them gently as if she were caressing me. It was then I realized I hadn’t spoken to her yet.
“You’ll be fine,” she said. Her tone was reassuring. “It will soon be spring. I will always be with you.”
She looked straight at me with her eyes full of warmth, and as I stood looking up at her, unable to move, she squeezed my fingers tighter. For just a second, she hesitated before opening the door and stepping out into the night.
“Come along now,” she told me. “We’ll meet your father outside.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you home.”
My mind was reeling.
“Home…?” I repeated stupidly.
I couldn’t understand what she meant when she said “home.”
But I had no choice but to do as she said.
***
After walking for ten minutes, we turned off the street and walked into the woods. The snow had stopped falling, and the moonlight shone through the branches. I could hear the sound of running water and the rustling of the trees in the wind. I could smell the fragrance of pine needles and wildflowers from somewhere nearby.
There was a small stone bridge near the entrance where the path branched off into two directions. As we approached, I saw a light burning inside—it was coming from an iron lantern hanging from a tree branch. A few feet farther on was another lamp, hanging from its own tree. I knew this place very well. It was a secret place between our house and my school.
My mother’s car was parked by one of the lamps. She drove past a few other cars and turned onto the road that would take us back toward the house. I watched my mother drive. Her hair fluttered lightly, and she wore her usual blue jacket with a white fur collar.
Her hair had gotten longer since the last time I saw her. But even more beautiful than ever, she sat hunched over the steering wheel.
As we passed the house, my mother got out of the car. I followed her lead and got out too. I tried not to stare at my mother, but I didn’t think about anything else either. I could see the same house standing there just as I remembered. We reached the front door and my mother rang the bell. She knocked three times, and then the door opened a crack.
“What is it?” Mrs. Mittermeier asked suspiciously. She peered into the hallway before opening the door wide, but her eyes grew wider when she saw the two of us standing there. “Who’s this?”
“I want you to take care of the young lady, please,” my mother said to her.
“Oh…” Mrs. Mittermeier frowned when she heard my name. “But who are you? How did you know that Miss Kostan has returned?”
“You’ll see. Take good care of her.”
“Of course, I will,” she responded, but her eyes were wary.
“Goodnight, Mama!” I cried and ran up to her. When I hugged her, she put her arms around me tightly. I couldn’t help noticing how she felt. This time, she was wearing gloves, and it was harder to tell if it was really my mother or not. My mother let go of me after a moment and looked at me with concern.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure she can get back in touch with you once she gets used to her new life here.”
My mother’s face twitched.
“She is home now. Let’s hurry back and talk,” my mother said. And when she said that, I finally understood what she meant by “home.” She was going to take me away from the Mittermeiers. I knew this was true because she had been talking about it all along, but for some reason, I’d never thought much about it until today.
“I’ll stay with you,” I whispered to her.
My mother shook her head slowly, and I knew that even if I wanted to stay with her, she wouldn’t have allowed it. She was leaving for the airport right away, and I had no choice but to go along. I couldn’t say goodbye to my father; he would miss us if he came home late.
She was about to open the door and leave when she suddenly turned to me and said: “You will make friends easily, won’t you? And you will find someone who likes you.”
My mother smiled gently, and I stared up at her as I nodded. My mother pulled me close and gave me another hug.
I was left alone with Mr. Mittermeier and my sister in the hall while my mother drove off in the car. We went into the room, where a warm fire burned in the fireplace. He looked at me, confused. My mother was already in bed waiting for us. We exchanged greetings and then sat down by the fire to wait until my mother came back.
The clock struck midnight when she arrived back home, and I was so tired that I fell asleep.
The End