Growing Up (6), a true kind of short love story

(continued from part 5)

On the way back home

This ride turned out to be one of the shortest yet most significant of my life! After making a sharp left, the road took us straight between my own home and my father's parking spot. Just before the same bus station where we parted ways months ago, I made a right turn. Soon after, she indicated for me to stop in front of those high-rise buildings where her home was somewhere. I turned off the motorbike, and she got off.

As she stood next to me, I helped her open my helmet, and she took it off. She handed it to me with a soft 'thank you.' Her messy blonde hair only added to her allure—she looked amazing. She tried to fix her hair with some movements of her right hand, but my mind had already captured her original image. I assumed she was in a hurry, yet she lingered, looking at me, and I couldn't look away. In that awkward moment, neither of us knew what to say, not wanting to ruin this magical moment. For a few seconds, two young people in deep silence by the roadside, yet beyond, there was undoubtedly a lot going on...

I could feel at the time

There was no way of knowing

Fallen leaves in the night

Who can say where they're blowing

She broke the ice by asking a possibly natural yet unexpected question, "Do you want to come upstairs?" As I took a deep breath, a whirlwind of thoughts raced through my mind. She was an amazing person and a cherished inspiration to me. However, I was too surprised to have any response ready. With my heart pounding so loudly that she might hear it, I replied with a strained smile, "Oh, thank you! Maybe another day!" Internally cringing at my obviously awkward reply, she simply nodded with an understanding smile and the familiar "hope to see you again" on her lips. As she turned to cross the road, I watched her take out the keys to unlock the main glass door. Before entering, she turned around, waved with her hand, and sent another quiet "thank you" through the air. After she disappeared into the building, the door fell into its lock and she was gone.

With my eyes still fixed on the closed door, I sat on my motorcycle, my helmet resting on the tank. The moment she got off the bike, my heart plunged into a deep void, and the sight of the closed door left me feeling so empty that I almost forgot to breathe. I was motionless for a while, just sitting there on the bike, unable to process how I did not accept this invitation, one of the most foolish and regrettable things in my life!

After I was able to move, I had to ride back 'home'. For the short ride, I had to wear my helmet, as required by law. As I moved it over my head, I realized it still had her fragrance in its padding. It made me smile, thinking that someone dear to me had my helmet on her head, and I surely would not wash it for the next few weeks...

As free as the wind

Hopefully learning

Why the sea of the tide

Has no way of turning

Upon my arrival, I pretended everything was normal and headed to my room, wanting to be alone. However, on my way there, I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off. Instead of finding my mother knitting on the sofa and watching TV as she usually did, I found her moving around anxiously, appearing busy without doing anything particular. When I attempted to speak with her, her response was very unusual, making me feel that something was troubling her, but, as usual, she was reluctant to share. After some probing, she revealed that one of my two younger sisters had found a new place to begin a chapter of her new independent life in a few days.

I was caught off guard when I learned about it, even though I could easily understand her decision to move out rather hastily than in a sensible and organized manner. As previously noted, both of my parents had an atypical, unloving direct relationship with their children. The family dynamic, with my father's alcoholism and lies combined with my mother's Nazi upbringing, developed into a profoundly toxic blend of mistrust, violence, and even physical abuse over time. After hearing the news about my sister's choice, there was not much to say to my mother, and I continued my way back to the room.

Before my stepsister moved out, four of us children shared the same bedroom and sometimes talked about escaping the misery of our home, especially after violent fights between our parents. We understood that home should be a loving and kind place to live. I imagined that I could run away and live in a forest on my own, while my sisters thought about reporting to the police or going to a youth welfare office, hoping to be adopted by someone who would really care and give the love all children deserve. But somehow it did not get in my mind that her running away would come true one day.

Hearing my sister leaving, I was not much in the mood to think about one of the nicest persons I have ever met, even with her scent right in the helmet in my hand. I continued to walk into my room, threw my stuff on the floor, and lay down on my bed. I reflected on the past years gone by of my relatively young life. As the only son, I pondered on potential ways to make a difference in my own and my family's life, yet nothing came into my mind that I could do differently.

This evening and the night were an up and down of emotions. First, I had my 'ride of my life' with a person I just could not get out of my head, and then I had to work on the fact that my younger sister would move out.

I had already seen my stepsister (the daughter of my mother's first marriage) and my oldest sister move out. My mother didn't receive much affection from her own mother or sister, and her father was last seen as a prisoner taken away by Russian soldiers during World War II. Growing up, I clearly noticed some jealousy towards my sisters. They grew up in a different time, were still young and free - they had their own income and could make their own life decisions, while she felt trapped and often verbally expressed regret over many of her choices. I often saw her explode with uncontrollable hate and anger over trivial matters, and I witnessed one of my sisters being choked by her own mother's hands over a pack of cigarettes. Both of them left 'home' for good and in anger, and would, if at all, sparsely contact anyone left in the family.

I was sure the disappearance would be the same with my younger sister, but it turned out to be more challenging than expected. Until she became a teenager, I believe that I had the closest connection with her among all my family members. The relationship between us changed when she became the girlfriend of one of my friends and one of my former classmates time after time. These relationships felt so unnatural to me that I only joined them occasionally - I simply felt something was wrong, and I was too embarrassed. She had a certain influence over them, and it showed in the behavior of my friends.

Although she wouldn't realize it, I would somehow miss her once she was gone. I understood that these were the final days of our still young lives, as would be confirmed later. I tried to come to terms with this reality, even though every breakfast and dinner felt awkward, knowing they would be our last together.

Still impacted by these two life-changing events in one day, it is needless to say that this was another night without much sleep.

(to be continued)