THE COUNTERSTRIKE
“Emily, who is that woman?” asked Mark quietly so their fellow passengers couldn’t hear.
“What woman?” Emily tore her eyes away from her phone, where she had been messaging her friend.
“That one over there… See, by the last window? She’s been staring at us the whole time. I’d even say she’s shamelessly gawking.”
Emily lifted herself slightly to catch a glimpse of who Mark was referring to. Her expression changed immediately, but she quickly composed herself, feigning nonchalance by shrugging her shoulders. “I have no idea.”
“Don’t lie,” Mark retorted irritably. “I could see you were taken aback when you saw her. Who is she?”
“She’s my mother,” Emily replied after a brief pause. She decided it was better to be truthful, just in case.
“Your mother?” Mark was shocked. “You told me you didn’t have a mother.”
“I didn’t lie…”
“I don’t understand,” Mark looked at his wife’s face inquisitively. “Care to explain?”
“Let’s talk about it at home…”
“What, you’re not even going to go over and talk to her? Does she live here in our city?”
“Mark, please, let’s discuss this at home,” Emily’s voice held a pleading note, and her eyes welled up.
“Alright,” muttered Mark, turning to gaze out of the window, clearly upset.
Emily didn’t bother to console him. In fact, she was relieved to be left alone for a while, even though her mind was anything but peaceful. Memories from her past came flooding back…
***
Emily had no recollection of her father. She only knew what her mother had told her: that he was a “terrible” man.
Her mother also used to say how lucky Emily was to have such a wonderful person in her life: her stepfather. Emily remembered him since she was about eight, though she never understood what was so wonderful about him. He was harsh, mean, and stingy. “Why does Mother love him so much?” young Emily would wonder, hiding somewhere to avoid Uncle Pete.
No, he never physically hurt her or openly insulted her. But he never treated her as a person either. He wouldn’t even call her by her name, treating her as if she were insignificant.
When he talked about Emily to her mother, it sounded something like this: “The girl doesn’t know how to behave…” “Your daughter disturbs my peace…” “Explain to her that hanging out with boys is too soon.” “Have you seen her report card? It’s embarrassing that she lives in my house!”
“In his house! What about the fact that this is our flat, mine and Mum’s?!” teenage Emily thought bitterly, always remembering how they moved into the flat after her grandmother passed away.
Once, when her stepfather repeated that line for the thousandth time, something snapped in Emily, and she blurted back, “It’s not me but you who live in our home! If you don’t like it, leave! No one will shed a tear!”
Her stepfather shot towards her, as if to silence her, but stopped himself at the last moment. He turned sharply to his wife and hissed through clenched teeth, “Make sure I don’t see her again!”
Mother took Emily’s hand, dragging her out of the room, saying, “Of course, dear, it’ll be as you wish…”
She always treated him like a deity, obeying without question, trying to please him in every way with a sweet voice.
Why? Emily couldn’t understand. But there was one thing she was sure of: if her stepfather wished, her mother would easily cast her out.
“What were you thinking?” Mum hissed at Emily that day. “How dare you speak to your father like that!”
“He’s not my father!” Emily cried out, “And he never will be!”
“That doesn’t matter! He feeds you, clothes you, and you… Ungrateful!”
“I didn’t ask to be born!” Emily yelled through tears, “I didn’t ask to be raised! You should have given me away so I wouldn’t be a burden!”
“I should have!” her mother threw back, “No one would take you! Your father bolted as soon as you were born! You’ve ruined my life!”
Hearing her mother’s words, rage filled Emily, and she forcefully pushed her away, then fled the flat. No one chased after her, and for the week she was gone, no one asked where she was or how she was doing. Emily was fifteen then…
What could she do? Nothing. Her friends took turns harboring her for a few days, but it was no solution. She had to return. With trembling hands, Emily opened the front door…
“Look who decided to show up?” her mother said, “Go to your room and don’t bother us unless you’re called…”
“She must’ve convinced him,” Emily thought and quickly slipped into her room. From that day, her stepfather behaved as if Emily didn’t exist. And, naturally, her mother supported his attitude: no dinner invitations, no interest in her activities, no attempts to hold a conversation.
Emily clearly understood that they had already devised a plan concerning her. They were simply waiting for her to finish school…
And she wasn’t wrong. As soon as Emily received her diploma, her mother hinted that it was time for her to prepare for an independent life. “Once you turn eighteen, you’re going to have to make your own way,” she declared and then resumed her silence.
After considering her options, Emily decided to apply to university. First, she would free her family from her presence. Second, out-of-towners were provided with dormitory housing, ensuring she’d at least have a place to stay for the next five years…
Emily didn’t get into university. Or rather, she did, but only for a program with tuition fees. Knowing no one would foot the bill, she nonetheless informed them, “Mum, congratulate me, I’m a student.”
Her mother looked at her blankly, “And?”
“Well, there’s this small issue — I need to pay fees for my studies.”
“Don’t even think about it. Not a penny for your antics! Haven’t we poured enough into you already?! And now we’re supposed to pay for your education too?!”
“Sorry. Of course, you shouldn’t,” Emily replied, “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“That’s right: you shouldn’t. You need to find somewhere else to live.”
“Mum, I have no money for rent…”
“Get a job instead of thinking about studying. I give you another month… then you’re out.”
“A month isn’t enough,” Emily tried to appeal to her mother’s empathy, “Could I stay with you for just another six months?”
“Six months? No way. I barely convinced your father to tolerate your presence. Besides, we have a renovation planned. We want to turn your room into a bedroom. One month, no more…”
So Emily rented a flat. It was a stretch to call it a flat. It was a small shed in a private sector, devoid of conveniences and with a furnace for heat. But it was cheap…
When Emily left her childhood home, her mother sent her off with a fork, spoon, plate, cup, table knife, and a small saucepan. Then she added: a towel and an old set of bed linen.
“Here, take these too,” she said, avoiding eye contact, handing Emily a small packet, “Good luck, my dear. I hope you grow up and understand me.”
“Thank you, Mum,” replied Emily, “May I come back later for my winter clothes?”
“Just don’t take too long, or you might not find them here…”
“You wouldn’t throw them away, would you?”
“Not me, but your father might not like it. You understand…”
“I understand,” Emily hugged her mother, “Well, I’m off…”
And so, at eighteen, Emily stepped into adult life. With her mother’s blessing…
The money her mother gave her lasted until her first paycheck. Emily scrimped every penny, even avoiding public transport, walking to work at the factory. When she got her first paycheck, she felt like a wealthy woman! She bought grains and pasta for the long haul, a bottle of cooking oil, and a whole bucket of potatoes.
She also had to purchase shampoo, soap, and toothpaste…
After buying all the essentials, Emily counted what was left and set aside a small sum in a pretty envelope, deciding that, little by little, she would save for her own home.
Emily visited her mother after about a month, still naively believing her mother would be pleased to see her. She also went to pick up her warm clothes as summer had ended, and autumn brought a chill.
A young man answered the door.
“Hey, wrong door?” he asked cheerfully.
“Actually, I’m here for my mum,” Emily said, surprised.
“Oh… You must be Emily? Come on in. Mum’s not here, but you can wait for her.”
“And wait I will,” Emily declared, heading to the kitchen.
The young man tried to engage her in conversation, but she shot him a look that sent him retreating. When her mother arrived, she showed no real happiness in seeing her. When Emily asked about the young man, her mother replied, “That’s Chris. My husband’s son from his first marriage.”
“And why is he living with you? I thought you were planning renovations.”
“He won’t be here long. Just getting settled in the city, finding work, and then he’ll move into a rented place.”
“I see,” said Emily coolly, “I’ve taken some shoes and a coat…”
“Take everything. Don’t leave anything. I’m tired of moving it around.”
“When could you have gotten tired, Mum? I’ve only been gone two months.”
“Don’t be cheeky,” her mother snapped, “You’re here now, just take everything.”
“Are you not even going to ask how I’m doing?”
“I’m not interested,” her mother said curtly, clearly unwilling (or unable) to talk in front of Chris.
“You’ve surprised me once again,” Emily said, heading for the door…
“Want me to carry that? How are you planning to haul such a big bag?” Chris offered, appearing from nowhere.
“Somehow,” Emily replied curtly and left the flat…
A couple of months later, she returned for her winter coat. Chris answered the door once more. This time, her mother was home. When Emily asked, “He’s still here?” her mother erupted:
“That is none of your business! He’ll live here as long as he pleases! After all, he came to see his father!”
“And I lived here with my mum,” Emily dropped, “But that didn’t seem to save me.”
“Don’t compare! It’s different!”
“How different?” Emily asked firmly, “What’s the difference?”
“I owe you no explanation!” her mother shouted, “This is my house, and I’ll decide who can stay!”
“Understood.”
“What do you understand?!”
“That a complete stranger is more important to you than your own daughter,” Emily said with such calm certainty that it unhinged her mother.
“I have no daughter!” she yelled, “And Chris is the son of the man I love! He means more to me than a son!”
“Congratulations,” Emily said, looking at her as if she were someone else’s mother, “In that case, I have no mother.”
And she left.
Convinced it was forever.
For four years, Emily made no contact. No calls, no visits.
And now, this unexpected encounter…
***
While Emily was lost in her thoughts, her mother rose and approached her. Mark stood, giving up his seat.
“Hello,” Emily heard the familiar voice she had struggled to forget.
“Hi,” she managed to reply.
“And who’s this?” her mother nodded towards Mark.
“My husband.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“Everything’s going well with us, too. Dad’s working, and Chris has found a lovely girl. Very sweet, calm. The wedding is next month. You know, I’m going to be a grandmother soon. Such joy! We’re dedicating your old room to the baby. Renovations are underway. We got the finest nursery wallpaper. And Dad and I have decided to buy a cottage, somewhere not too far. Fresh air and vitamins for the child are essential. We’re looking for something affordable with a house that’s livable and a nearby river or lake…”
As Emily listened to this stranger, who by all intents was now a stranger, she wondered why this woman was telling her all this.
“When did you marry?”
“Two years ago,” Emily replied automatically.
“Are you planning on children?”
“Our son is nearly a year old.”
“So, I have a grandson?”
“You?” Emily turned to face her mother for the first time.
“Me,” her mother faltered for a moment, “You’re my daughter.”
“You’re mistaken, ma’am. My mother died four years ago…”
Paled, her mother stood and made her way to the exit in silence.
Emily turned back to the window, feeling not a shred of pity for… this woman.
Mark had been quietly observing them both, listening. There was a sudden realization: they were complete strangers.
And he resolved not to ask his wife about her past. It somehow felt too daunting to uncover…
