You Are No Longer My Daughter

Youre not my daughter anymore.
He was a mysterywho he was, where he came from, unknown.
Im ashamed of you.
Move into Grandmas house and live like an adult.
Own up to your actions.
Olga, did you hear?
Theyve sent people on a business trip to help us.
Shall we go to the club tonight? said a satisfied Masha, flopping into a chair.
Masha, what are you saying?
And what about Vladikwho will I leave him with?
Should I take him? Olga laughed.
And if I ask Aunt Lyuba? Masha asked cautiously.
Olga waved helplessly.
What?
She still cant forgive me for giving birth to a son.
She wanted me to marry Andriy, but I went to the city instead.
I didnt get in, but I came back with a belly.
She was angry with me all year, only two months ago did she start talking again.
So, go with someone.
Maybe youll get lucky and find someone.
Masha sighed.
Alright, Ill go with Tanya.
Tomorrow Ill tell you everything.
Olga put her son to sleep, then stepped onto the porch.
Music thumped from the house.
Wrapped in a shawl, she imagined everyone dancing and having fun.
Masha must have slipped on her tiger dress again.
Olga smiled softly, looking like a tiger caterpillar in it, sighed sadly, and went to bed.
At dawn, Masha burst in.
As if on cue, Olgas mother arrived as a guest.
Olga put a finger to her lips, but there was no stopping Masha.
Its a shame you werent here yesterday.
There were some boys.
One of them, Vova, walked me home.
Hes chatty and funny.
Im going on a date today, Masha blurted in one breath.
Olgas mother asked with disapproval, Hes probably married?
Masha shrugged, I didnt check his passport.
If he is, at least theres something to remember.
Ah, girls, what are you doing?
Andriy is a perfect groom.
I missed my chance at happiness, but you, Masha, can still turn his head, Aunt Lyuba enthused.
Come on, Aunt Lyuba, what are you saying?
Who needs him?
His mother, too.
God forbid such happiness! Masha exclaimed.
She turned to Olga: There was a guy, couldnt take my eyes off him.
All the girls were enchanted.
He hung around with friends then left alone, didnt even ask anyone to dance.
Then something unexpected: Aunt Lyuba mused, Olga, you should also go to the club.
Ill sit with Vladik.
Maybe youll meet someone serious and reliable.
Vladik needs a dad.
Dont pick married menthey can smell a lonely woman.
Got it?
Olga, stunned by her luck, nodded, kissed her mother, then muttered, Go away, you clingy.
Olga, in her best dress, laughed with friends, remembering carefree times.
Look, hes back again, the girls whispered.
Olga glanced his way, her legs trembling.
She quickly turned and whispered to Masha, I think Ill go home.
Vladik is probably crying without me.
She was surprised.
Olga, what?
You just left the house for a dance and now youre running home?
You didnt even dance once.
But Olga answered firmly, Im leaving.
And Vova will come to you anyway.
You wont be bored without me, and headed for the exit.
Someone grabbed her hand at the door: Care to dance, miss?
Olga tried to pull away, I dont dance.
The suitor persisted, Just one dance, please.
She finally turned; her heart leapt.
It was the same boy, a chance encounter that would change her life forever.
He didnt recognize her.
Her heart fluttered, and she smiled, Alright, just once, Im in a hurry.
He spun her around.
Your husband must be worried? he asked.
Olga replied dryly, Im not married.
He winked, So I have a chance? he teased.
Olga stepped back, Dont even hope, and fled the club.
On the way home she wept, remembering him forever, as if shed fallen in love instantly, though he never realized.
Later, on a train, they met again.
She was returning home, dejected after failing exams; he was traveling to visit his parents.
Seeing her gloom, he tried to cheer her up.
My name is Maxim.
Mom calls me Max, nephew calls me Masya.
Pick what you like.
Olga smiled, Masya sounds better.
He extended his hand, Were almost introduced.
And you are, beautiful creature?
She replied, Olga.
Maxim nodded seriously, I thought so.
A royal name.
She told him, word by word, about her failed institute exams and her mothers future reminders.
Prepare over the winter and try again, Maxim advised.
Olga brightened, I hadnt thought of that.
Thanks.
He gazed at her thoughtfully, Youre welcome.
Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?
Olga blushed, Just me, dont exaggerate.
Thanks anyway.
Maxim moved closer, But its true, and kissed her unexpectedly.
Olgas head spun.
The next moments were both embarrassing and sweet.
Maxim left early, promising, Ill definitely find you.
Only later did Olga realize, with regret, that he hadnt even asked for her address.
Soon she discovered she was pregnant, and her mother, disgusted, declared:
Youre not my daughter any longer.
Who he is and where he comes from is unknown.
Im ashamed of you.
Move into Grandmas house and live like an adult.
Take responsibility for your deeds.
Before giving birth, Olga took a job at a library, working up to maternity leave.
When she left the maternity ward, Masha met her; her mother didnt come.
Five months after Vladiks birth, Olgas heart finally gave out and she appeared.
This isnt our kind, she judged.
She began visiting more often, bringing toys for her grandson.
Why so early? her mother asked.
Nothing interesting there.
Hows Vladik?
Mother smiled, Your child is sleeping.
Since youre here, Ill go home.
Olga closed the door behind her and tried to fall asleep, only managing to do so at sunrise.
Drowsy, she fed her son, who refused his porridge.
If you dont eat, you wont grow like your fatherstrong and handsome.
Is that about me?
Flattering.
Is that what you think of my son? a voice called from the doorway.
Olga handed him a spoon.
You?
How?
From where? Maxim grinned.
I told you Id find you.
I didnt know Id have a son in the meantime.
I was so dazzled I forgot to ask where you lived.
Perhaps fate decided were meant to be, he said, making a funny face at Vladik.
The boy laughed brightly.
In the morning, Olgas mother caught her happy with a stranger carrying a contented son on his shoulders.
Is that him? she asked.
Yes, Olga replied with a joyful smile.
Mother approached Maxim, extending her hand.
Im Lyubov Georgievna.
Ill keep a close eye on you as husband and father.
Maxim shook her hand solemnly, Understood.

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You Are No Longer My Daughter
Min man började komma hem sent varje dag – först trettio minuter, sedan en timme, sedan två. Han gav ständigt nya ursäkter: möten som drog ut på tiden, köer, jobb i sista minuten. Han höll mobilen tyst, åt lite och gick direkt in i duschen och la sig, utan att prata. För första gången på våra femton år tillsammans började jag räkna timmarna i smyg, inte för att kontrollera utan för att han aldrig förr haft sådana vanor. Tidigare sms:ade han alltid när han lämnade jobbet. Nu – inget. Ringde jag, svarade han inte eller ringde tillbaka mycket senare. Han kom hem med röda ögon, kläderna luktade cigarettrök – ändå röker han inte – och han såg utmattad ut på ett sätt som hans jobb inte kunde förklara. En kväll frågade jag rakt ut om han träffat någon annan. Han nekade, sa att han bara var trött och att jag överdrev. Bytte snabbt ämne och gick och la sig. Så fortsatte veckorna. En dag gick jag tidigare från jobbet utan att säga något. Jag gick till hans kontor och väntade. Såg honom komma ut som vanligt, ensam och tyst. Han körde inte hemåt utan svängde av in på en bakgata som jag kände väl. Något stämde inte. Han körde in på Skogskyrkogården. Han parkerade vid vägen. Jag parkerade längre bort och följde efter till fots. Jag såg honom ta en påse från baksätet och gå långsamt fram till en grav, där han satte sig på knä. Han tog blommor ur påsen, torkade av gravstenen med skjortärmen och satt länge stilla. Det var hans mammas grav. Hon hade gått bort för tre månader sedan. Jag visste att han brukade besöka den. Men inte att han gick dit varje dag. Jag stod på avstånd och såg honom sitta, prata tyst med sig själv, gråta så att tårarna rann öppet. Han gick först därifrån när det började skymma. Han märkte aldrig att jag varit där. Den kvällen kom han hem sent, som vanligt. Jag sade inget. Nästa dag var han sen igen. Och nästa. Jag följde efter honom två gånger till. Varje gång gick han till samma plats, lämnade blommor och stannade länge. Hemma började jag lägga märke till små saker – blomemballage, kvitton från blomsterhandeln intill kyrkogården. Inga misstänkta sms. Ingen annan kvinna. Inget märkligt. En vecka senare berättade jag för honom att jag hade följt efter. Han blev inte arg. Han höjde inte rösten. Satte sig bara vid bordet och sa att han inte visste hur han skulle berätta att han gick dit varje dag; att det kändes som att något hemskt skulle hända om han slutade, att han kände sig tom efter mammans död och behövde prata med henne, be om förlåtelse för sådant de aldrig hann reda ut. Efter det har han aldrig mer varit sen utan att säga varför. Ibland går vi dit tillsammans. Ibland går han ensam. Det var ingen otrohet. Det var inget dubbelliv. Det var sorg, buren i tystnad. Och jag upptäckte den när jag följde efter honom, trodde jag skulle hitta något helt annat.