Ugo's memories.

María.

I remember watching María at our family dinners. Sometimes she would look sad or tired, sometimes just numb or angry. I wasn't surprised, she was encircled by men of any age. Grandfather, Paul, Valentyn and me.

She never ate much and everytime grandfather made any kind of sudden move, she slightly flinched. Quietly the whole time, she sat there, drowning in her thoughts and inner fears.

That was the first time I felt deeper, if any kind of connection with her. We both were abused, we both were broken deep down. Of course that didn't excuse her actions and why she did the same to her kids as her father did to her. That made her the same as him, she didn't learn.

No one paid attention to her, they only saw her as a stupid woman. Which she wasn't. Grandfather's walls were full of mother's diplomas and certificates. She was clever, smart and pretty. My mother was extraordinary. Yet she didn't understand feelings. She didn't understand why she deserved the pain or why she was never enough. And she had no one to ask.

She looked at me. Right into my eyes, hers were green and teary. I expected her yelling at me and probably slapping me, but none of that came. A tear rolled down her cheek, she stood up and left the room. No one said a word and I didn't have the confidence to go after her.

I learned to read María's emotions from her eyes and that night it yelled with pain. Silent 'Help me', I knew it, I felt it as it was my own. The pain which connected us was strong and yet she wouldn't learn from it.

same goes for saturdays, the days she took a shower or bath. At least that's what she told us. She wouldn't come out for at least 3 hours, but when she did, she was pale and her eyes looked dead. I was afraid to ask anyone, so I took the matter into my hands and I let my cutiosity consume me.

I opened the door slightly and saw her lying in the bathtub. The water looked very hot, I could see steam coming out of it. She didn't seem to mind, yet she was doing something I didn't understand. Her hands were wrapped around her throat tightly, eyes shut. I thought it was a way to help her relax, even tho she looked more in pain than ever.

That's how I learned how to fall asleep on bad and sad days. I choked myself till I wasn't sleeping. I was becoming María, her neck stigmas were mine too. She didn't notice, of course. I learned many great things by watching my mother, some she didn't notice, some she punnished me for.

Cutted arms? beating with a spoon. Trying out her clothes? hair shaving. Wanting affection? kick in the tummy. Not doing chores? slap. Not cooking? another slap. Never.Fucking.Enough.
"You're no fucking good, Ugo!"
Oh, couldn't you tell that it was well understood?

I was okay, I didn't know any better. No idea how to ecape, how to get help. Just red marks all over my body and heart full of pain. That's how I remember María, the woman who taught me how to exist.