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Friday, March 4, 2011
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Story #9 Through My eyes
It’s about my father…man whom I do not almost know…and really didn’t want to get familiar with to not long ago… There were few reasons for the curiosity..no, this is not a right word…wondering is better- it was as a light in a tunnel that was barely blinking since my childhood and suddenly lightened brightly in my mind- I understood what’s going on in my life with the men and why it’s going on nowhere. I was always thinking that I would be able to build my life despite my miserable childhood, but finally understood that I have lost a fight with the memories..with the pain…with my responsibilities to my children particularly of this missing person in my life- my father.
He wasn’t exactly missing…he was hidden in my mom’s phrases like ”You are stubborn as you father was” or “If you do not like here- go and live with your father!”..and she knew that I wasn’t invited to live with him. Little by little the pieces of the puzzle were collected and the picture of my parents lives was here, in front of my mind…and I didn’t like neither colors, nor expression of it…it was sad, on some places funny, but not balanced or harmonized at all… Am I have to show this puzzle at all? I decide to do so…to help myself to glue every piece together and, probably, show some other child with the similar faith that he or she is not alone with the same kind of thoughts as were mine.
As I remember myself I always was surprised that adults never take children seriously..never ask if they want to move to another city or what do they think of moving to another school? Never. Parents do live their lives and think of children as of toys- today Teddy Bear will sit on this bed, tomorrow- on the coach. And I was always thinking of myself when I grew up I would never do this to my children! Never. And I understood that this way it doesn’t work too. The true is somewhere at the middle I guess.
So, I was four years old when my parents divorced. Why? It was a very usual reason – my mom caught my father in cheating . They were students at that time in a city where I was born..big city in Siberia…she was a student in the University of Technologies studied how to treat the “soft gold”- one of the main sources of income in Russia- sable’s , silver fox’s and squirrel’s furs in the fur’s industry and he was planned to be an engineer in plane constructing and was in a basketball team for the University. These days …in sixties..young people usually met on the dancing places and my mom was very picky with the men, who were trying to ask her for dancing as mom’s girlfriend recall- everyone was dancing but she was waiting for the right man, so, she liked my father. He was handsome…tall…slim, wide shoulders…good looking young man..he was twenty as she was. They looked nice together- beautiful young couple. And they didn’t think twice I guess about been together- when my mom’s parents had a trip to the Black Sea for the vacation these two got married. That was a big kick on my grand’s self-respect- when they returned home they saw the pair of frightened doves sitting on the coach in the hall room in their house… Why they were frightened? It’s easy to answer- my grand father was an Aries …as you understand my point…he was a navel of our family’s world- everyone was listening to him and this tradition was found by his wife- whatever he said must be done. And here they were- the daughter and the …other student, who tried to ruin his world that hardly built: miserable childhood, medical school, the War, tuberculosis, barely survival, Police Academy, work as a Sheriff of the area equal by the size to the Europe, and, finally, colonel in the Department of Interior….having raising another child- second daughter, fifteen years younger than the first one…postponed because of the tuberculosis…parents had to be sure that the father is healthy enough to have a child… My grandfather was furious of this surprise and that my mom already was pregnant…How come they have done that much in only twenty days of parents’ missing?! So, they had it coming! Out! Both of them- out!
Here started new chapter of their lives…in a student’s dormitory for families. I remember everything from there…we were living in this big barrack on two floors made of planking-when walking the wood was cracking…it was a long corridor with the doors to many rooms..a lot of children running around, playing games, crying, laughing, riding three wheels bicycles…I had a bicycle, too..green one..with a small ribbed stripes at the back wheels axis -it was stolen later from our apartment; my sister managed to ride it a little, also she had been loving to hug me from behind staying at the stripes while I was riding… but it was later…my beloved sister has another father..not mine…
My mom never believed me that I ha had such an early memory to the moment when I described her the furniture in our room there, the huge wardrobe with a mirror in it- it was modern these days and, actually, it was very smart piece of decoration- you’ve got dressed and took a look at yourself in the mirror…and it was beautiful..made from real wood..not from some plastic, carton or glued filings…I also remember myself looking at the mirror while sitting in the metal bath tube placed at the middle of the room …my mom went to get some towels to take me off the tube, but I managed to fell with all the tube and the water was all around the floor..I remember her frightened face…and how we were trying to collect the water with the towels to not have a problem with the manager and the neighbors from the first floor…our room was on the second. Then I remind her a time, when she, my father and I were going somewhere with the train, had left it and by the an empty platform we were heading to the forest…I remember that I have got tired and my parents place me in a bid brown bag with two holders which they were carried between them by the holders…I remember the old bridge made from the wooden boards..some of them were missing so we can see the small river throw the holes…it was scary..I was sure that my parents in the ongoing fight between them could drop me in some of this holes…Siberian’s rivers are fast and icy cold…and I was always wondering how come in this clear, delicious, icy water could these creatures –fishes-survive? In Siberian streams there are no any plants could live but the fishes….fast in a fast fresh water on the pattern of light smooth pebbles at the bottom..you can see them running down there and think that you can catch some, but – no way…it only an illusion..the river is deep and the fishes are unreachable… When we got at the place- the final destination- they were three people there: the woman and two kids-older girl and younger boy, both of them older than I was…they were playing with the toy, a little ship with the PARUSAMI and a boy were blowing at them to move the ship in a water, NALITOI in a big pot where usually the dough were kneading. I also remembered that my father pushed my mom and she almost felt on the ground..I was that scared that I can’t take a breath to cry…I only was trying to take a breath…then suddenly my voice got out, I set on the grass and a stream of tears wet my face; I understood that something important in my life were happening..I only didn’t realize what is it..I was three years old…
My mother was stunned and said:”It was in your aunt Frida’s country home.” Since than she never doubt my memory.
Some other moments I remember I would never share with her for two reasons: my mom has a very convenient for herself memory that never excepts intimidating moments exist and I knew that it would be very painful for both of us because as much we were trying to escape from the past, as much we were diving there deeper…which we were scared of unconsciously. Like this period of our life related to my father. I was already four…we were still living in a dormitory, but have started seen my grandparents from my mom’s side; my father’s parents this time were busy with their problems- his father was relived from Stalin’s camp and been living in the village nearby lake Baikal as a fisherman and his wife had been going to see him. Actually, I have never seen my father’s father alive…he refused to return home after more than twenty years living at the lake Baikal and died later in my father’s home in Bratsk.
My mom was having difficult time having graduation coming: she was busy making her own projects, helping my father with his graduating project, having going to practice in a fur’s plant…she was busy. That night she went to her parent’s house to draw some project on a huge piece of paper that she carry in a huge tube with her and left me with my father home. I remember he taught me how to walk and run right- I had been walking with my toes looked at each other, so when running I frequently fell because of this. He explained me as a sportsman that it’s an art to run beautifully and fast in the same time; he showed how to put the feet with the toes look straight ahead, pushing he body forward… When a winter night came, my father told me go to the bed and sleep, so I did go. He put his short coat on, fur hat , hazel scarf , told me that he forgot to buy something and left. I was there- in a large cold room and the feeling that he never come back started filing my heart. Time was passing, I start trembling of fear…I was almost sure that I was left there and nobody will take me from that room; dark sky changed to gray, than to white, my father haven’t return. Suddenly I heard a key start scratching the door – I felt my heart huge and bitten that fast as I can’t breathe. It was my mom..I remember her black tight short dress and white mittens, made of rabbit’s fluff, her red knees under the thin stockings and her surprised look around the room. I even couldn’t get from the bed- I was tired to cry all night and my mom’s appearance didn’t promise any relieve- her frozen face and indifference toward me seems scary to me. “Where your Father is?” – she asked and I told her what’s happened last night. At the same moment my father came into the room…it’s really strange, but since that moment I do not remember anything... at all. I was trying to think about it- how come I remember everything to that moment and nothing then, but the truth is that my brain blocked this piece of time. What I remember next is my grandparents house and myself, hiding behind the curtain, looking through the window at my father staying in a drift snow, and my mom’s voice: ”I wont give him Ina – no walking, no talking- he doesn’t deserve this!”
They divorced and I was given to my mom- first of all, it is a custom in Russia moms to take care of the kids; on a second place, it was my father’s fault…he had a girlfriend.
What I understood much later, it was difficult time to both of my parents, but to me, as an adult person, it was fun to listen to my mom telling me some particular facts about that time. My father married his girlfriend because she told him she was pregnant, but when the child was born black skinned, my father understood that the woman was playing games with him and the love of her live wasn’t he, but some student from Ethiopia from the Polytechnic School. And it wasn’t all. This lady was asking my father for alimony and he understood that he is in trouble…So, there is no one could help him, but mom. And she did…she went to the court and witnessed for my “smart” father that at the time, when the child was approximately conceived, he was a good husband. So, he was saved, but humiliation for my mom was terrible.
Later on my mom married my sister’s father, great surgeon who’s drinking habit turned bad to him and little by little he have lost everything he had- a family, a daughter, and his profession…this will be a different story.
My father married a woman who gave him a son- he always dreamed about…named him in my name – Ilia and start sending me not only letters, but photos, too. Many photos with him and his son…here he is a baby and my father look at him in admiration..here he is a bigger boy..they are out at picnic…my father look at him with love…here he is a teenager riding ski with my father- he always liked sporting…here he is taller than my father- really tall- two meter and five centimeters …So, I was up to date with what my father and half brother are doing. What made me feel strange- my father never ask me about me…they were questions after starting the letter “Hi my dear Ina, how are you doing? I am sure that you are doing well. So, Ilia and I……” , but I felt that if I even tell something about myself it wouldn’t surprise or make happy my father- it was a one way conversation.
One day, when I was already divorced women with two almost grown sons, the telephone rung. It was my father’s cousin wife- we never were close, never kept our relationship alive, but she called me in America to ask what’s going on with my life, to say that she saw the pictures of my sons and how handsome they are- my father showed her these pictures, and so on. Suddenly, she asked me what do I know about my father’s life now. The answer was that everything seems well, Ilia and my father do work at the same place- as a professors in the same University…..Ilia has a girlfriend..they are going to marry. She was silent. Stunned. Then she told me the real story of my father’s life through the last decade. What happened is when Ilia was a teenager , he started having seizures- sudden loss of consciousness; taking him to the doctors didn’t help much- the symptoms weren’t leading to the any diagnosis. From the desperate traveling to the famous neurological clinics my father went to the polar side- he invited specialists in paranormal phenomenon home to measure the negative energy all over the place. I was listening to this woman and the pieces of a puzzle of unknown of questionable moments, described in my father’s letters , fell on their places. Despite of costly expenses on the telephone calls, he started calling me regularly, as never before…sometimes sounded to me drunk..alway telling that there are no any problems…or he has to ask Ilia what to do in this or that case…So, the impression of my father’s dependability on his son’s opinion was full…I never can understand why he is doing this….Now I knew…it was a reaction of a person who refuses to accept some facts and living in an imaginable world..his own…to protect his sanity from damage.
I also was thinking about God when I close the phone and the proverb that the God punishes us through loved ones have got the meaning since then.
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