Don't Kill Mother!

Mila, the favorite granddaughter of old Venneta, sat down on the floor by the armchair, and asked:

"And have you loved granddaddy all this time, granny?"

"Certainly, dear, how can it be otherwise?" the old woman caressed her cheek.

"And you didn't get tired?" asked the girl, amazed, ensconcing herself by her grandmother's feet. Old Zlati had drifted into his usual pleasant doze on the rocking chair by the window, his face covered with the unfinished newspaper. At his side stretched Rudi, the German shepherd; whether sleeping, or keeping watch, the girl was not certain.

"Well, he did irritate me sometimes. We had our quarrels." Old Venneta became thoughtful for a moment, peeking over to where her husband snored peacefully. She laughed quietly. "Can you ever love one man for fifty years?" her eyes screwed up cunningly. "I've taken some rest. I've given myself a break now and then."

"A break!" the bewildered girl exclaimed, "You must be kidding me, granny!"

"Marriage is a job, my dear," the old woman shook her head. "You need time off. After the holiday, you work better, isn't that right...?" Old Venetta smiled craftily. Her talk was mischievous and playful, but there was some honesty in it as well.

"And during the break, what?" The girl gave her a conspiratorial wink.

"Ah, me ... should people share all their secrets?" The old woman shook her head, looking over at Zlati. "Besides, you are still young, the time hasn't come yet for you to listen to that sort of thing ..."

"Nonsense! I'm eighteen. Some women my age already had already children of their own. Tell me, please!" Mila demanded, pressing her cheek upon her granny's knees.

"Well, all right, all right!" Old Venneta waved her hand, bowed her head and started her tale, in a low stage whisper. She pretended to talk in the girl's ear, but actually her voice was echoing in the room.

"Once, I too had myself a certain 'friend', as you call it now, but at the time we used the term 'lover'. And this is the truer word, I think. His name was Radko, a colleague of your granddad. I hated long, drawn-out affairs: I wanted to be with the man I liked one, two, three days. And then both of us off on our separate ways!

"So, I breathe a word to my sister over the phone and a wire comes from her at once. I can still can see its preposterous contents: 'Mother seriously ill. Come immediately.' Mother lived with my sister so there was nothing suspicious; it was exactly like her to send me such telegram. So, I leave immediately, the very same night I received it. Your granddaddy harped on coming, too, but I said to him: No, no, you shouldn't leave your work just like that, you have just been promoted, you have to prove yourself now! In the end he agreed to let me go alone, which was according to plan. You understand, I had other things on my mind! There was nothing wrong with my mother, of course--it was just an excuse for him," she beckoned towards her husband, who was snoring on and off under the newspaper. Now the dog was taking part in the snoring, too. The old woman pursed her lips and went on.

"However, the moment I showed up, mother got ill! What a wonder! I, of course, had fixed it so that my new friend was coming, too, and he stayed at the local hotel. The first day, anyway--we spent it locked in the hotel room."

"A whole day!" Mila exclaimed, admiringly.

"And a whole night, too!" the old woman smiled mischievously, then suddenly sighed. "But my mother got worse and worse! My sister, frightened out of her senses, runs around, gets the doctor, and he says: She must be taken to hospital, her life is in danger! What's wrong with her, ask I, but he mumbles, one can't make anything of his chattering Latin. At the same time, my sister, God forgive her, pulls me aside and tells me right in my face: 'God's punishing Mom because of your unfaithfulness! Go away, don't kill mother!' What could I do? I left. When I came back, my first job was to phone the doctor--sudden improving, says he! And again, all over me with his Latin gibberish! God sees all and punishes us, mark me, dear child ... yes, it is true! Since then I haven't taken time off from your granddad! Honest to God!" Here the old woman crossed herself, her gaze fixed on the icon of the Virgin Mary, placed in the corner of the living room.

"Yes, yes I see..." the girl agreed, stunned by her grandmother's story.

"That's why one shouldn't be unfaithful. Until that time, I was easy-going, taking my fancy to one man, then another, I didn't care a cent that I'd vowed before God to be faithful to this here man!" Old Venneta pointed at her snoring husband and caressed her granddaughter's hair, "However, I understood, you can hide no secret from God! He sees all!" And the old woman again hastily crossed herself.

"My God, what a horror you've been through!" Mila exclaimed, taking both her grandmother's withered hands between her palms, kissing them.

"Nonsense! How can you fill the child's head with such drivel?!" thundered old Zlati sharply, removing the newspaper from his face. "I called your mother and she decided to play that nice little trick on you! Even your sister took part! He-he! Aren't you stupid?"

"Oh! But he's been eavesdropping!" shouted old Venneta, startled.

"Granddaddy! Shame on you!" Mila cried resentfully, but the old man gave her a cheerful wink and said: "And when you talk behind my back, doesn't that, by any chance, make you feel ashamed, my dear girls?"

Venneta abruptly turned towards the old man, bewilderment showing in her angry voice. "Can this be the truth you speak, Zlati?" she snapped.

"What do you think?" He smiled and slowly folded the newspaper.

"I don't think, I ask!" said old Venneta sternly.

"Marriage is a competition between two people, Mila!" explained the old man, waving his finger mischievously. "The smarter, the more ingenious, is the one who always wins, as is with life, my dear child!"

"Wait--are you serious? Or did you just think this up while listening in on us?" his wife asked suspiciously.

"Oh, I'm quite serious!" old Zlati nodded. "I had decided never to admit that, but--here--stupid of me! I made a deal with your mother at the time. For a mother-in-law she showed much love for me!"

"Really?!" The old woman couldn't believe her ears.

"And how!" giggled the old man.

"What a villain!" Venneta half-rose from the arm-chair, outraged, then sat down again, grown weak with the overcoming agitation. Her hands began to tremble in her lap, and clumsily, she tried to hide them away, but couldn't--she didn't know where to put them.

"Well, all right," said the old man, "You tell me, Mila, if I acted like a villain, hadn't I been provoked enough by her?"

Mila sighed--the case was too difficult to solve. She only shrugged helplessly.

"Women, for some reason, always imagine themselves very sly and crafty. But I won't have that." Obviously contented, the old man started caressing the dog, and the dog growled with pleasure.

"But, granddaddy!" exclaimed Mila and broke off. Actually, he was right.

"So, be a winner in this competition, my child! Don't believe your granny, nobody supervises us, life is in your own hands but love most of all. Win or somebody will win instead of you. There's no equality in marriage--there's a winner, or a loser! Take that from me!"

"I will," nodded the girl and suddenly, she saw her granddad in a completely different light: strong, clever, ingenious...

"Come on, Rudi, my dear friend ... Time for a walk!" The old man was laughing while the dog scurried towards the door, then came back with the lead and bent his head. "No, you don't need a lead, dear friend, you are a man!"

"Take care, you hear, old rascal!" called old Venneta after him, mischievously, as always, though her voice was trembling with agitation.

"I will. I have learned to take care in the half century I've spent with you, sweetheart!" grinned old Zlati, "Would I manage to keep such a beautiful and loved woman like you, if it were otherwise?"

"Crazy man!" Venneta started shaking her head. She absently caressed Mila's neck, after the girl had lain her blond head on her granny's lap again.

"Well ...so goes the world, my girl. So many years have I been with this man and I still don't know what goes in his mind."

"Well, he played you a trick, what's so hard to understand?" Mila smiled.

"No, you are wrong, you are wrong ..." uttered the old woman thoughtfully and then exclaimed: "But I must have loved him for that; for this strangeness and mystery of his!" A quick smile crept upon her lips and again, she shook her head ironically, with disbelief. "Although--who knows?"

From outside came the barking of the dog.

"Someone must have come!" said the old woman, surprised, and rose with a sudden liveliness, then went up to the window and looked through it.

"Do you know who's here?" she asked her granddaughter with excitement, "Radko, the same I told you ..."

"That one, from the hotel?" asked the girl, surprised and quickly joined her granny at the window.

"The very same!" nodded the grandmother fervently and her hot breath dimmed the glass in front of her eyes.

"But how come ... how come they are still friends? I thought granddaddy knew!" Mila stared astonished at her grandmother's face.

"He knew, of course, and I didn't have the slightest suspicion! Radko--least of all! But, who knows, they might have settled the things between them ... who can ever understand these cursed men ..." Old Venetta crossed herself yet again while she kept her eye on the two old men, who strolled down the wide lawn spread before them. Against the dim light of the sunset, Radko and Zlati merged into one great single figure, while the dog was racing along before them.

Suddenly, the two men parted, withdrew from one another and stood exactly opposite each other.

"As if they are going to fight a duel for their lady of the heart!" Mila whispered, pressing her forehead on the glass. Old Venneta only sighed and laid both her hands on the sill.

The two men started throwing the flying disk.

"Frisbee!" declared Mila ironically, surprised. "Look at them, old men, what a game they have decided to play!"

The dog was running back and forth, shuttling between the men, barking in exaltation, following the disk that was flying over his head. And the men seemed completely absorbed in throwing the plastic disk. Is it possible that I, like the dog, have been running between the two of them all my life? the old woman asked herself.

She made two uncertain steps and slumped in the armchair, her face hidden in her arms. The thought that her husband had got the better of her, had played her for a fool all these years, filled Venetta with an irritation that came close to tears. Mila knelt beside her, feeling pity for the old woman but also an unsuspected contempt. The girl half-closed her eyes; one could read on her lips the vow she took: In love and marriage I will always be the winner, just like my grandfather Zlati!