I should get out now. I started turning on all the lights, then went to open the shutters. The weather was mild, so I left the windows wide open, to purify my environment.
Calling this home was pretentious. For years I hadn’t bought anything. It was all the same as when I rented. It was better not to own anything, better not to become too attached to things, soon we would have to leave them all.
The refrigerator was desolate. I would have to get food. There was a Chinese takeaway down the road, but I loathed that kind of food. All too fried for my taste. I didn’t want to encourage them.
I went into the bedroom to change. There, the smell was even worse. I pulled off the bedspread and sheets, although no one had used them. It’s better to have fresh linens. Too bad in the closet there was also a musty smell. Maybe it was a smell I had brought back with me. The smell of death.
I hated that house, but I wouldn’t be here much longer. It was already time to find another job. Once in a while I took a few days off between, but I was soon bored. I could afford it, basically I was doing well. But how do you put something aside when you have a daughter who bled you to death with her drugs? Even on the job she caused scenes. And what scenes they were! A couple of jobs she’d made me lose.
She would come here. It had been a couple of weeks. By now the money had to be gone. She had a sixth sense about knowing when she could see me. Perhaps she read the obituaries.
It was better to buy food, so if she came she didn’t miss dinner. I splashed a spray lavender, to hide the odors. I gave in, I consumed half a bottle. Who knows how long it had been there, maybe it was expired. It seems certain things do not last, but in truth the end time comes for everything.
She hated it here. I began to hate it too. The smell seemed even more oppressive, I had the feeling of being in a cemetery. I should have put the clothes before they absorbed the stench too.
I couldn’t do it. I only had time to drag the bags in the room when I heard the key turn in the lock. I was sure I had taken hers away, but she must have additional copies. I did not like her to come and take drugs there while I was away. Sooner or later she would find trouble.
I tried to ignore it, I did not want to argue. She fumbled a lot, did not yet know my lock, or she was too stoned to remember it.
«You’re here! This is the third time I’ve come to see you».
I hated that plaintive voice, drove me crazy.
«Why don’t you buy a mobile phone, like everyone else? At least I’d know where to find you».
The reason was obvious. There was just no one I wanted to talk to. Even though I wanted to say so, I did not answer.
«I got you something at the restaurant on the corner. I thought you’d be too tired to go out».
Those takeaway boxes were not at all inviting, but I said nothing. Her fake kindness was a harbinger of trouble. I would not let her off so easily.
«Right, I’m tired. I do not want to talk. I’m going to sleep now».
«Don’t be stupid. Let’s eat first».
Tamara was twenty-five, but anyone would have thought her ten years older. The drugs have that effect. She was like an anorexic mannequin with long hair to her shoulders, never washed. At least that was my impression. Doe eyes, even from when she was a baby, looked haunted now. As if she’d been thrown away!
I looked for money at the bottom of the bag.
«No, you don’t! My treat».
Definitely I would not get away free. I calculated the cost of dinner and multiplied by ten.
«There’s no need!», she said, putting the money back.
Translated: do not hope to get away with so little.
«Let’s eat».
Without her, I wouldn’t have made it. I had already passed hunger. The fiction had to continue. «How are you?», I asked.
«I have a new job», she lied.
That I knew. She had not worked a day in her life.
«Tell me what you want and get it over with. I really need to rest».
She didn’t take offense. «Always the same. I said I found a job. You don’t care?».
«So you’re not here for money?».
«You’re my mother, we are a family. We can’t just talk?».
We were no longer a family, after Diego was gone. He was smart. He understood that in this house we were all dead and separate. He had gone.
«I do not have anything to say».
«I do. There are so many things I want to talk about. What happened while you were gone. Things… about my life. You don’t care?».
«I do not care anything about what you do, I thought I was clear last time».
«Stop», she struggled to hold onto a mask of respectability, but every moment it became heavier to carry. «Always the same, I can’t stand you anymore».
From the pulpit came the sermon. «Aren’t you tired of making up stories? I don’t care what you need because I know already».
«Give it to me, then, if you know everything».
Lying and stealing was her normality, even fucking if she had to. Everything was legal when it came to procuring drugs. There was a time when I was also accused of this, but it had been quite a while. I was not always there for her. I had to work, but that is not a fault. It isn’t when you are a single woman with two children and penniless. Too easy to blame me.
«I can’t stand your presence, try to be quick».
We had reached the climax, the mask was gone. «Bitch! Always a bitch! And I still come here».
It was pathetic, if she kept coming she had a thousand good reasons. They were still in my wallet, but not for long.
«How much do you need?».
She wanted to overdo it. «Do you think that money solves everything? You ruined my life».
«Stop talking nonsense, if you make me angry you are the first to lose out».
«You never loved me! You never wanted me! For you there was only Diego».
Here we go again. She would make the worst of it, it was inevitable. Yet she persisted. Ensure that I felt guilty, she was my daughter after all, I had brought her into the world. But there was no way to keep her quiet.
«Do not overdo it!».
«Diego! Diego! Diego! Do you hear me? The name means something to me, even if you don’t like it! He’s up and gone away».
My failure as a mother? He was the good son and also started with nothing. But he was not so condemning and had done well.
«I do not want to talk about this, can’t we stop here?».
«Of course, he was a saint, you do not want to listen to reason. I could tell you what kind of shit he was, but you would not believe. You do not want to hear. You never believe what I say».
To do so would have been crazy. That sewer of a mouth only spewed lies. «Just tell me what you want and that’s it. Try not to piss me off, otherwise you will not see anything».
«I have to tell you? Why must I tell you? Why must I always be the one to ask? You’re my mother! Why don’t you take the first step? Why don’t you offer?».
Even that was a known score. «When I do it’s always too little».
«Because you’re stingy! You’d let me starve».
Sometimes I’d even thought about it. When death came, hitting people who did not deserve it, hadn’t hurt anyone. When I found myself on the street, without a job. Then I wondered: why them and not Tamara? Why was she spared? It was not fair. Then sometimes I regretted those thoughts, but always they returned.
«I’m tired!», I shouted. «I’m really tired! I’m sick. I’ve been back just a few minutes and this is what I come back to in my own home».
«It is also my home».
«Not at all! Your junk can go too».
«Bastard!».
Technically she was the one with no father. I had never married. Not that it made any difference. «So you do not want anything? I’ll just go?».
She exploded. «Bastard! Bastard! And to think that I still care about you».
Th
e Chinese food packs went to decorate the kitchen wall, one after the other. I managed to resist. I was too strong, I got a lot exercise. She was fragile, and she would be broken.
«That’s a smart move», she said.
She wanted me to blow up There was a masochistic streak in my daughter. To be appreciated she had to be slapped. That day I did not do it. Sooner or later, the neighbors would call the police, it had already happened. Who knows who did it.
«What do you care? You hate this house».
I had to clean myself up. And I also missed dinner. «Next time, spare me, do not bring anything. It’s less work for me».
«Why do you always have to be so hateful? What have I done?».
She had destroyed her life and she knew it. Or maybe not. Maybe I’d already destroyed that life myself. «Get out of the way».
Now it was up to me to make a big scene. She stood there, I crossed the hall and went into the bedroom. Hers was gone. The one she had shared with her brother until he escaped. I had turned it into a closet to be sure she wouldn’t try to return.
I slept in a double bed again, even though I hadn’t shared it with a man for fifteen years. It was a constant reminder to avoid making the same mistake again. The bare mattress was more squalid than ever, much like my existence. I took the sheets and began to make the bed.
Tamara came back. «You can’t get away with that! You’re sending me away?».
I tried to ignore her, to turn off that annoying noise. Why did it have to happen to me? Diego could not stay an only child?
«I’m talking to you. Do not turn your back».
After that, the anger tears. Tamara was like that. Perhaps it’s normal behavior for those in her state. But they were simulated feelings, my daughter was not able to experience something real.
«I’m listening. You can go on for hours».
«I had so much to tell you! Things are going well, I really found a job I like, I’m trying».
I was not going to fall for it again, but I could not keep quiet. «So you do not need the money?».
«For the job no, of course. They said they’d pay me. It’s for…».
«No more, say no more».
«But you have to know».
«You think I’m an idiot? Keep treating me like I am! Do you want money? You can’t do without that shit? I don’t care, kill yourself! Take it until you burst, I do not care».
She grabbed the double meaning. «So you’ll give it to me?».
I was not so sure, she pissed me off. That lack of spine was odious, she would come crawling again very soon.
«No, not for just anything».
«Mom!», she screamed.
What a hateful word, I did not want to hear it. «Please leave now».
«You can’t!».
«Come back tomorrow, and try to get by. Do not shoot that crap. For tonight I’ve already given enough, you can survive».
«But it’s nothing! How can you think…».
«For a dose enough, even two. Forget it».
«I’m not a drug addict! Why do you always bring this up? If I ask you for money you always have to think about that».
The outrage was building, the slap was getting closer. I had to shut her up.
«I’m sick, go away».
«You do not care any more? And what about me? Look what happened to me! A shit mother who doesn’t care about me! Who only knows how to criticize, who won’t even try to understand».
I tried to scream just as loudly as her. «Tamara, I hate your voice! It’s obscene to me and I do not want to hear it! Shut up and get out of my way».
«Bitch! Every time I come you’re even more bitchy».
She began to repeat herself and entered into an endless loop of insults and complaints. I tried to stop the inevitable.
The slap left her speechless, even though it was not the first one I’d given her.
«You hit me!», she rasped.
I had not yet started, one could consider it a pat. «I’ll do worse if you do not go».
Her range of insults was very limited, but she was never very smart. With the second blow I did not restrain myself.
«Go away!», I shouted. «I can not stand to see you! I do not want you here».
She had full knowledge of the danger, I had only anger. «I hate you! You destroyed my life!», she shouted, and as always she followed with a destructive action.
She grabbed a candlestick placed on the dresser and threw it. She had the good taste not to throw it directly at me because basically I was her bank. She threw it too hard though, and struck the wall close behind me.
«Disgraceful!», she shouted.
She quickly backed off. «I didn’t mean… I swear I didn’t mean…».
By now the damage was done. The wall was ruined. One of the throws had also made a hole. The plaster was gone. I had to call a mason to repair and paint it. I’d postponed it this many years. Maybe a picture would have been enough to hide this one.
Now she feared for her life. «I do not…».
It was time to stop, I could not stand her presence. I retrieved the wallet from the bag and took out the money. «A thousand Euros, all I have. Do not ask for anything else. I do not want to see you anymore, for at least a couple of weeks. If you come I’ll slam the door on you, you understood me?».
No one expected it. It was me that I was hurting. He had to be a little pleased, very soon I would not care anymore at all. Maybe then I would find the strength to put my threats into practice.
She did not trust me, was afraid to get too close. She was right, I barely held back my desire to slap her again. I resolved the problem by throwing the money on the floor.
She ran to pick it up, I was too close. Then I turned and went to check the wall. I did not care about the candlestick, I had always detested it. Never lit a candle. But the wall yes, it was a big mess.
«So I’m going».
She was fast to pick the money up, the floor was clean. Yet she stayed. «Bye, Mom».
Did she expect me to invite her to stay? She was dead inside and all that mattered were the shit drugs. She was too weak to resist.
«You have the last of it. I was not joking».
«Yes, yes, don’t worry. Thank you».
«Go now. I’m tired».
I had calmed down, but I would never be able to relax as I had before.
«I’ll take care of myself, do not worry».
I would have to take the keys, but I was sure that she had others. It would not do any good. Fortunately there was no money at home nor anything else of value to steal. She had already done her best to make a clean sweep.
I waited to hear the door close and when it happened I breathed a sigh of relief. It was over for now, but it would never end.
Only with death.
2
I could not sleep.
The fault was not only Tamara’s, her scenes I was used to. It was the smell that haunted me. The smell of death. How many times had I smelled it, even before it actually arrived. It was inside me now.
Had my hour arrived? Was I the only one to know it? Had it moved into me like a virus?
I could no longer stay in bed, I got up and opened more windows, even though the temperature had dropped. Maybe it was the lavender, a bit ‘of fresh air would have it wiped out.
I stood looking out a few minutes, but there was not much of a view to look. The houses opposite were dark, there was no one up in these wee hours. The road was dismal, the lights turned off from time immemorial. Not even passing cars.
When I began to feel cold I went back to bed. Was it time to change jobs? I was tired of seeing the old die. But no other job would pay me as much and I had to support Tamara, a bottomless pit where all my money disappeared. I had already given up private facilities, nothing helped. She would run away, and in any case just come out and start again. More money down the drain.
It would have been nice if I had been able to escape. Pack my bags and disapp
ear into thin air. Without me Tamara would die. Was it better that way?
She was not Diego. She would not disappear overnight, without even leaving a note. He would never be separated.
I understand, really. Even total abandonment. Diego was strong, did not want to get stuck again. He is pursuing his plans, whatever. At least I had a clever son. Even if I had lost him.
No, you could not go on like this, it was even worse. It was not a brilliant idea.
I stood up again. I was exhausted, I needed to sleep. I closed the windows but got no peace. The smell was deposited around me, I could not sleep there. Maybe it was just my fixation.
I went into the kitchen to make coffee. I sipped, to make it last as long as possible. Already in the hallway I smelled it. It seemed doubled. The smell of death.
I checked the room. A dead rat, maybe. Dead of hunger, loneliness. Yes, it had to be so, there was some dead animal, it was not my imagination.
I started looking. I checked under the bed and even in the closet. I moved the dresser. There were not many spaces in which to hide, but I found nothing. Yet the smell persisted.
At certain points it was stronger. Opposite the bed, it came from there. But there was nothing, just a wall. The wall where Tamara had thrown the candlestick.
Fuck! Was there a dead rat in there?
My nose was not lying, I got close enough to be sure. It was the hole, that miserable little hole of just one centimeter. It was not just plaster, she had crumbled brick. It was enough to touch him because of the fallen concrete. A catastrophe!
Were there also mice that were in the den walls in that shack? It was about time to look for another accommodation. A smaller house, less to clean. Meanwhile what should I do? Sleep was impossible in those conditions.
Plug the hole, it was obvious. I tried, but I didn’t have the right material. I pulled on an old handkerchief, but the situation grew worse, the gap widened. I had to do something.
Lizzi Bizzi and the Red Witch Page 70
