Mom and sister settled in well: when grandma started getting in the way at their apartment, they evicted her to my place, and now that my sister needs a nanny for her child, they demand her back. It feels like they’re talking not about a living person, but about a piece of furniture.
My mom had me early, at eighteen. She wasn’t married, and she didn’t stay in touch with my dad afterward. A year after I was born, Mom found a new husband and moved to another city with him.
I was raised by my grandmother; my father helped occasionally, coming by until he moved somewhere far away.
Grandma tried her best to provide everything for me, although it wasn’t easy for her. Mom didn’t send money for my upkeep and didn’t think it necessary to visit. Sometimes she called, but mostly when she needed something.
‘You’re an orphan with living parents,’ Grandma would cry, stroking my head.
Mom returned from her second marriage when I was twelve years old. She came back with a daughter—my sister Maya, who was six. Mom had divorced her husband and had nowhere to live, so she came back. It became crowded in Grandma’s two-room apartment.
Grandma and I occupied one room, and the other was given to Mom and my sister. Though they called Maya my sister, it didn’t make me feel any more related to her, or to Mom for that matter. To me, she was just a stranger, an aunt with whom we didn’t get along.
Mom tried to discipline me, to assert her rights, telling me what to do, but I didn’t accept her. I only listened to Grandma, while Mom and I constantly fought and argued.
‘It’s all your fault! You spoiled her so she doesn’t listen to her own mother!’ she would yell at Grandma.
‘You’re not my mother! A real mother doesn’t abandon her children,’ I’d reply for Grandma.
We had these scandals regularly. Grandma asked me to be softer and not to fight with Mom, but I couldn’t do it.
When I finished the eleventh grade, I left home with mixed feelings of joy from no longer seeing my mother and sister, and sorrow for leaving Grandma, the only family I truly had.
After school, though I returned to my hometown, I lived separately. I got a job and rented an apartment. I tried to visit Grandma in such a way as to avoid crossing paths with my mother and sister.
It wasn’t difficult. Both were busy with their personal lives and only came home at night.
Two years later, my father died. I learned about it from Grandma. Some friend called her. He was buried in our town. It turned out I was his only heir, receiving a small one-room apartment.
I lived in it for a while, then sold it, took out a mortgage, and bought a two-room apartment. At twenty-five, I moved into my own two-bedroom apartment. Around the same time, my mother brought up a conversation.
It turned out that my sister decided to follow in Mom’s footsteps and at nineteen, she would already become a mother. Only, the father of her child decided to marry her. It seemed to me he was just pressured into that decision, but it was none of my business.
They told me this story because the sister’s fiancé didn’t have his own home, she didn’t want to live with her mother-in-law, and it would be very cramped in Grandma’s apartment if two more people appeared. Therefore, Mom appealed to my conscience and said that I should take Grandma in.
I flatly refused, because I didn’t plan to take Grandma from her apartment to my unfinished renovation just because my sister decided to reproduce and wants to do it in the most comfortable conditions.
Mom spoke ill of me, but I returned the favor. I felt no awe before this woman, no respect.
But in the evening, Grandma called me, her voice filled with tears, and asked me to take her in. She says it’s very hard for her to live there. Mom and sister are constantly fighting, yelling, and soon there will be another child and some random guy. I immediately went to pick up Grandma.
Mom and sister gave us spiteful looks as we left, but they had the sense to keep quiet, otherwise, there would have been a huge scandal, possibly even with a fight. I was very angry. Mom took advantage of Grandma’s kindness and evicted her from her own apartment.
Grandma and I gradually settled in, finishing the renovation, furnishing the apartment. They didn’t bother us, and we didn’t interfere with them. We generally tried not to think about Mom and sister. The topic was unpleasant for both of us.
But six months later, they reminded us of themselves. They started calling Grandma, talking about how they missed her, inviting her to see the great-granddaughter.
Very sweet, if not for the fact that they didn’t invite Grandma to the discharge, and she found out about her great-granddaughter’s birth after a congratulatory call from a neighbor.
Grandma got ready and went the next day to see the great-granddaughter. She returned somewhat thoughtful.
‘They’re asking me to come back… The granddaughter can’t cope with the child alone, she’s asking me to help.’
‘And what about the mother?’
‘She moved in with her man a week ago.’
Everything fell into place then. Sister needed help because Mom ran off to her next guy. Grandma was remembered right away, though in those six months, she hadn’t even called once to ask about her health. But as soon as trouble brewed, she turned to Grandma.
‘I refused. I won’t go. I’ll occasionally visit to help, but to move back with my things—no. They need me now, but later either the daughter will return from the man and it’ll be cramped, or I won’t get along with the son-in-law, or the child will grow up, and they’ll ask me to leave again. I’ll stay with you if you don’t kick me out.’
I won’t kick her out. She’s my closest and dearest person, the one who raised me. She won’t be wandering around with bags in her old age. Let Mom and sister figure out their own issues, and not bother us.”