The phone rang at three in the morning. My mother stood at the doorstep looking like someone ready to do anything. In her eyes burned a fire of despair mixed with her usual authoritarianism. She had come to take away my new life and give it to someone who, in her opinion, deserved it more. But this time, I was ready to fight back.
Life teaches us to appreciate change. Sometimes, it’s enough to alter your route home or try an unfamiliar dish to feel how the world becomes wider. These tiny shifts prepare the ground for truly significant transformations in our fate.
For a long time, I believed my existence would forever be stuck within the same confines. One room, the same days, the same faces. But recently, something happened that turned my reality upside down — I became the owner of a two-room apartment. An event that might seem ordinary to others became a true turning point for me.
My grandmother provided financial support. Since infancy, she surrounded me with care and understanding. When I failed on the ice rink, falling during figure skating performances, it was she who encouraged me. Grandmothers have an amazing gift — they stay close even when the closest friends turn away.
It was she who instilled in me the ability to hope. Without her, my childhood would have turned into emptiness. Summer months at her country house, walks through the garden, trips to the pond — all this created a rich palette of memories worthy of a whole book.
By the way, why not write it? I have time, my income allows it, and the spacious apartment inspires creativity. I will definitely repay my grandmother’s kindness — I will do a major renovation in her house as soon as I can.
Of course, she insists she doesn’t need anything. But isn’t that what all older women say? Lately, I’ve felt an unprecedented surge of energy. Every morning I want to throw a housewarming party. Acquaintances congratulated me, and I felt awkward — after all, I personally hadn’t achieved anything; it was all thanks to my grandmother’s generosity.
However, not everyone was happy for me. My mother, as usual, grumbled something displeased into the phone and didn’t even bother to come see my new home. From early childhood, she harbored resentment toward me. She focused all her attention on her younger daughter, Liza, who, by the way, was not very happy about it.
In my own family, I felt like a stranger, which, as is known, is a heavy burden. If it weren’t for the winter and summer holidays at grandmother’s, I would have completely gone wild. Mother only cared for my sister. She only noticed me when she needed someone to vent her anger on. She had this need — to yell as naturally as breathing. Without it, she couldn’t. But raising her voice at my sister, even when she really misbehaved, was unacceptable. It was “unpedagogical”! Who knew how it would affect her psyche? But I could be yelled at as much as she wanted. Mother had no doubts about this. And it wasn’t a one-time thing — this defined my entire childhood. Nonstop yelling. That’s what I remember from my parental home.
Every time my sister caused some mischief — breaking dishes, drawing on the walls — mother immediately summoned me and gave me a scolding:
“This is what now? Why aren’t you watching your sister? You’re the older one, so you’re responsible. If this happens again…”
And, naturally, it happened again. Many times. Mother seemed to rejoice that I had such a disobedient sister. She just needed an excuse for an emotional release. And she was never restrained in her words.
That’s why every return to grandmother’s was a celebration for me. There I didn’t have to fear anyone. And I had gotten so used to this fear… Not the healthiest habit, but what can you do.
I was constantly lacking attention. Probably still do. After starting my independent life, things got a lot easier… Yet I still don’t know if I’ll ever truly feel free. Mother called often at first — I even thought she missed me. It turned out she did miss someone, but not me, not her own daughter, but the opportunity to yell. She just didn’t know what to do without me. She called, asked about my life, looked for reasons to complain, and always found them. And then it began…
Now that I have my own home, mother once again found a reason to be displeased:
“So, you’re extorting money from grandmother. You’d better work yourself…”
“But I do work, Mom. And about grandmother — it was a gift, I didn’t beg…”
“Don’t pretend. I know everything about you. You were lazy then and still are. Why are you telling me fairy tales? Look at your sister — totally different. You’ll never be equal to her. All the talents apparently went to her. And you, daughter, are nothing but trouble.”
Those were the warm family conversations we had. Meanwhile, my sister… she deserves a separate mention. She was terribly jealous of me. From a young age. She was never satisfied with what she had, always wanting the candies I was given. She probably thought they tasted better. Despite Lisa’s many talents (apparently hidden), she still lived with mother, neither studying nor working.
And despite all these obvious facts, mother kept repeating that Lisa was a genius who would one day glorify our family name, you just have to believe in her. Well, be my guest… believe as much as you want, just don’t drag me into it.
Sometimes, when I talked with mother, she would snatch the phone from her and start whining like a child. One thing wrong, then another. However, to some extent, I can understand my sister. If I had lived with mother a bit longer, I would have lost my mind completely. It’s a heavy trial. My sister didn’t have the strength to break free from the parental nest, and this is the result.
Mother undoubtedly spoiled her. To her, she is the best, the most beautiful, the smartest, and so on. While I lived with them, she wasn’t so focused on her, but now that I left, Lisa can’t even take a step without mother’s approval. Whatever Lisa does, mother immediately comments.
Of course, it’s not easy for her, but she has only herself to blame. Instead of hanging out with friends, Lisa could already have gotten her act together, but no, she thinks someone will solve all her problems. But that doesn’t happen — I tried to explain this to her, but she refuses to listen.
Lisa feels uncomfortable at home because mother’s care has already become annoying. But she’s too lazy to look for a job and live independently. No matter how much I tried to help, she does nothing. Probably waiting for a miracle.
I constantly hear her voice in the background when I talk to mother:
“I want an apartment too…”
“Quiet, they’re telling you,” hisses mother.
“I want to live separately… Why does she have an apartment and I don’t?”
“Well, calm down, Lisa, want to go to a café?”
“I don’t want a café, I want an apartment.”
“What will you do? Where will I get it for you?”
“Anywhere, I can’t take it anymore. Why is she always lucky and I’m not? Why does she get everything better? It’s unfair.”
Apparently, mother got tired of this. She probably didn’t think she could be driven to such despair that she would turn to me for help. She was literally backed into a corner. Earlier she controlled everything, commanded everyone, but now she feels uncomfortable in her own home. Probably she felt at least a little what it’s like to be in my place. Every time she came home, her sister greeted her and started her daily drama. Eventually, mother couldn’t take it anymore and came to me.
Here’s what she said the moment she crossed the threshold:
“Why do you need such a spacious place? Better register it in Lisa’s name, she has nowhere to live,” said mother.
Well, mother was not used to choosing her words. She was used to getting whatever she wanted at any cost. She probably never thought I would never agree to such a “tempting” offer.
“What, Mom? What do you mean ‘give the apartment away’? I don’t understand.”
“There’s nothing to understand. Just give it. You’ve always been selfish. It’s very simple.”
“You want me to just give away the apartment?”
“Of course, what’s so special about it?”
“Nothing. I just don’t intend to do it.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“This is what I mean.”
“No, I think you don’t understand how hard it is for me right now. Your younger sister throws tantrums all the time. We just can’t live together. I never thought it would come to this. And why is she so capricious? I devoted myself entirely to raising her. At home, there’s constant yelling and screaming; I can’t take it anymore. If Lisa doesn’t get an apartment, she won’t calm down, you know her.”
“What if I say I don’t care?”
“How can you not care?” mother was amazed. “We are your family, have you forgotten? We must stick together, support each other…”
“You only realized this late, Mom. Such beautiful words only come when you yourself need help. And when I was a child, I needed your support so much. And what did I get? Nothing. You just turned away from me.”
“But that’s all in the past,” she said, “now everything will be different, I promise. Just give your sister the apartment, and you’ll see…”
“So you’re setting conditions? No, Mom, you don’t understand. If you have nothing more to say, I think it’s better not to continue this conversation. It won’t lead anywhere. And tell Lisa to get a job and stop delaying. It’s time for her to grow up.”
Hissing and cursing me, she left that day. I’d never heard such screams from her. She was literally beside herself with rage. She probably really thought I would smile sweetly and give the apartment away. It seems mother has completely lost touch with reality.
After that, she kept calling me non-stop and just cursing. She couldn’t say anything sensible, just cursed. Eventually, I stopped answering calls, but she kept calling. Soon Lisa joined her. At first, I thought she wanted to apologize — after all, she had pushed mother — but no… She started claiming that I ruined her life, that I was to blame for everything. In the end, almost all the relatives started calling me. Everyone wanted to scold me and shame me. They are all great altruists and benefactors. If I came to them asking for an apartment, they would immediately give it to me. They would give their last shirt just to help me. Yeah, right, it would be exactly like that.
Only grandmother remained with me. She just laughed at mother and younger sister. And they say old people regress into childhood. In this situation, grandmother was the main realist, and if anyone regressed into childhood, it was my mother and younger sister.
It’s sad, of course, that it turned out this way. Sad that people quarrel over apartments. I thought that when I grew up, something would change in my relationship with mother and younger sister. Maybe something did change, but only for the worse.
The main thing is that I am not alone. The main thing is not to forget the people who sincerely love us. Let’s see what the coming year brings. Recently, I met a very handsome young man at work. And, as I understand, he is into hockey. Who knows, maybe he’ll invite me skating soon? In short, I feel everything is gradually getting better. I continue to believe in small changes that eventually lead to big, significant transformations. If you don’t just sit still but do something, the New Year miracle is sure to happen.
