Blue Glass

Losing Screws

"You've done good for yourself, Lea," my mother said. "Who would have known such a useless girl like you would have managed to reel in such a rich love interest?"
If only she knew, I thought bitterly.
Me, my mother, and Svetlana were all standing around the phone table. My mother had a huge wad of marks in one hand that she continuously thumbed through like she couldn't believe she really held 50,000 marks in her hand.
"Just think of all the things I could buy for myself with this money," she exulted, lifting the wad up to the light of the chandelier above. "New dresses, shoes, purses, fragrances—"
"I've held up my end of the bargain," I said harshly, stopping her starstruck expostulating short. "Now you hold up yours and give me my letters back."
Her eyes narrowed. "Not so fast. I haven't tired of your beloved quite yet. I'll give them back once I have 100,000 marks here by next week."
What...?!
My blood turned to ice. My thoughts slowly congealed into loud, buzzing white noise. My hands began to shake as I clasped them before me in an attempt to appear unruffled by her demand.
It became all too clear just how big of a mess I had gotten myself into. My mother wouldn't stop until she had drained "Manfred's"—Heinrich's—bank account and squandered the money on the most trivial things imaginable. She would demand more and more outrageous amounts, and I was pretty sure she would reduce the grace periods between one deposit and another as time went on. And then, once there was no more money to give...
Manfred—
My head spun once, twice, again and again. My chest constricted tightly, so painfully that I nearly screamed in agony. My mother's befuddled face and Svetlana's horrified one blurred and swam before my eyes until they were nothing but blobs of color. Then the floor slid out from beneath my feet, and i was falling...

I opened my eyes, and saw that the pillow I had my head on was covered with a brown pillowcase. The pillowcases in my room were a powder white.
I shot up in bed so fast the vertigo that came with the sudden movement nearly knocked me out again. Looking around, I saw that I was lying in Svetlana's bed, the covers having been pulled up to my chin.
How did...?
This morning's events suddenly came rushing back to me like a torrential rain. I buried my face in my hands, the same overwhelming sadness and helplessness cloaking me all over again.
I didn't have any idea what to do other than call Heinrich and ask him for the last time for another loan. The first time I called him, he repeatedly told me that we were family and I didn't need to pay back a single Pfennig, but I got the feeling that he expected me to at least try to repay him.
My thoughts turned to my mother. The blood roared in my ears at the mere thought of her, smugly counting marks downstairs. Already the thought of killing her or at least seriously injuring her was becoming more and more appealing the longer I deliberated over it. How long would it be before I snapped and decided to put an end to her once and for all?
I gazed down at the patchwork quilt spread over me. It depicted animals, people, agricultural tools. Svetlana had told me once that it was all she had brought with her to Germany from Russia.
Svetlana.
My heart skipped a beat. She was most likely downstairs, doing chores. What if Heinrich were to call, and she answered? Not only would it dash my hopes of getting more money, but it would completely destroy my cousin's trust in me. That was one more thing to add to my growing pile of worries—a broken trust and a subsequently obliterated friendship. I couldn't let that happen.
I threw the quilt off of my legs and swung them over the edge of the bed. A wave of nausea crashed over me as I stood up, and I leaned heavily against the small table next to the bed until the feeling subsided. Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself and unlatched the door, peering down into the darkness of the set of creaky wooden stairs leading down into the living room.
From somewhere downstairs, I could hear Svetlana whistling, accompanied by the swish of a broom over wooden floor. My vision spun as I took one step. I shut my eyes and tried to stand still, but my head continued to whirl round and round, until I could no longer feel which way was forward, which way was backward, which way am I supposed to lean to fall to the left? To the right?
My surroundings slowly went from a multicolored blur to a calming, peaceful white—and then darkness, inky black and stifling.