"Mom, have you seen the wallet with the money I had saved inside the insole of my sneakers?" I asked, leaving the room with a pang of unease, trying to silence the suspicion that my mother, once again, had taken my savings.
"Lucia, I had to..." My mother began, trying to sound calm. I didn't let her continue. The words that are coming are a familiar echo, a truth that my heart refuses to admit, especially coming from her. But this time, resignation will not be my answer. I won't lower my head again.
"Don't even tell me... another one of my brother's economic emergencies, and as always, we're off to solve his problem or fulfill his whim," I snorted with frustration. It's the same old story: he gets into trouble and we have to get him out; the capricious prince wants something and we have to buy it for him. In the end, my savings, the only ones in this family, always end up paying the price.
"Don't talk to me like that, Nayana. I'm your mother, keep that in mind." At that typical appeal, I let out a huff that tries to hide a mixture of ironic laughter and growing irritation.
"For me, there's no doubt: you are my mother. The one who has always doubted, the one who has always preferred to ignore it, is you. Only when it suits you, you remember that bond." The impact of her hand made me stagger, and I feel tears welling up, heavy, in my eyes. But at this moment, I decide that I will not cry anymore in front of her. I am not going to beg for a mother's love that will never spring from the heart that bore me.
"You will respect me, Nayana. And if I took that money it was because your brother needed it, and you owe it to me. I gave you life, and this roof that shelters you is mine, so you adapt to my rules. If you don't like them, the door is open." Her words, cold and blunt, pierced deep into my soul, inflicting a pain I never thought possible to feel. To be reduced by your own mother to a mere source of income, to see how my efforts are systematically ignored, is a deep wound that goes right through to the soul.
"Fine, if that's all, then I'm leaving. There's nothing for me here." My voice trembled, but the decision is firm. I turned around, letting the tears run without permission as I almost ran into my room. In a fit of rage, I threw two changes of clothes, pajamas, shoes, underwear, my phone, and my documents into the backpack. I left the room, finding the furious figure of my mother in the living room.
"If you cross that door, Nayana, forget about coming back. The doors of this house will be closed to you, regardless of your tears or your pleas to want to return." Her words resonated coldly, but they no longer reach me. All I yearn for is to escape, even if my home were under a bridge. Any place is better than continuing to live under this constant yoke, where it is not enough to strip me of seventy percent of my two salaries, but also my savings are confiscated at whim to defray the whims of a son who only knows how to demand and get into trouble, a self-centered king that everyone must please and rescue.
"Do you know what that money is for? For my laptop," I blurted out, bitterness and resentment coming to the surface.
"Coincidentally, when I finally bought the first one, after more than a year of economic deprivation to buy it, the 'prince' of my brother had a university 'emergency', and you took it away from me without caring about my tears or my pleas. That laptop was my window to write my novels, to start fulfilling my dream of being a writer." The next slap burned on my cheek, punishment for confronting her favoritism. Because unlike my brother, I have destroyed myself studying and working to build my present, while he only opens his mouth and my parents go out of their way to fulfill his wishes.
"Writing novels won't give you a decent future, so that laptop was more necessary for your brother, who is studying a real career." A dry laugh, tinged with bitter pain, escaped my lips as I heard my mother's absurd words. Does she really believe that farce, or does she simply refuse to see the reality that my brother is not studying anything?
"What career lasts more than ten years? My brother is almost thirty and is still stuck in his eternal study of business administration. Not even medicine requires such dedication in this territory! But of course, since it's 'him', everything is applause. If it were me, you would have disfigured me with blows already. Don't worry, as of today, your headaches because of me are over." I left the house without giving her one last look. If I do, I know my determination may crumble, and I can't allow myself to return to that house where I have only received suffering and one disappointment after another.
I walk towards the bus terminal, driven by a visceral need to flee, without a clear destination in mind. Only the idea of getting away from this place gives me strength. My frantic steps stopped abruptly when I collided with a body. I mumbled an automatic apology, and when I looked up, the surprise froze my blood: it's him, my brother.
"Where are you rushing off to, little sister?" The mockery and satisfaction are evident in his smile, a familiar combination that can only mean one thing: another whim financed or a crisis avoided. The proof was not long in coming when he took out of a bag from a technology store the unmistakable box of a new phone.
"Look, look, do you like my new toy?" He boasted, waving the phone like a trophy. A wave of fury ran through me. There it is, the fruit of my sacrifices, financing his unnecessary whim. A phone fresh out of the box, while the one he had, almost new, is discarded without further ado. And me, with my old phone struggling to survive its second anniversary.
"Well, although it's not the latest model, for next time you know, save faster and a little more to buy me the iPhone that I want and need so much." My cynical brother keeps chattering, oblivious to the fury that envelops me. I clenched my teeth until they hurt, a mixture of rage, frustration, and impotence at his insolence. Six months of hard work to buy the laptop I need so much, snatched by him and my mother for a capricious new phone. A purely malicious act, a cruel mockery to rub in his status as a favorite son and flaunt it before his friends and conquests.
"Enjoy it while it lasts, brother." Irony bites my words, holding back the avalanche of reproaches and insults that burn my throat and heart. I can't risk my escape being thwarted. My brother, lazy, liar, and parasite yes, but astute. He knows perfectly well that my departure would mean the end of his existence full of appearances, sustained by my jobs in conjunction with those of our father.
The decision is a lock bolted, with no possibility of going back. I arrived at the terminal and got on a bus to the border, fleeing from the family that has turned the definition of home into a minefield of suffering.
<
"That ungrateful girl left," Laura babbled, downplaying the small backpack that Nayana had taken.
"She'll get over her tantrum, she has nowhere else to go. We are her only family, so she will come back, don't worry." Luciano frowned, uneasy. As much as Nayana got angry when they invaded her space and took her belongings, she had never threatened to leave. He doesn't like that novelty at all. Where will he get easy money now for his whims, to dazzle the girls and take them to bed, or to cover his constant debts?
"Mother, if Nayana really leaves and doesn't come back, we'll be in trouble. Remember that she and Dad are the ones who cover the expenses of the house." Luciano's words shook Laura, whose mind, clouded by resentment at Nayana's "lack of respect", had not considered that implication. However, she clung to the conviction that Nayana has no other refuge, that her tantrum will vanish before the harsh reality of loneliness and the lack of a roof.
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Happy afternoon ✨✨✨.
Here I leave you a bit of the protagonist.
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