Free There Once Lived a Mother Who Loved Her Children, Until They Moved Back In by Ludmilla Petrushevskaya

of the night Mama got up, turned on all the lights everywhere, and noisily led the boy to the bathroom: pee, baby, pee, since you’ve already peed yourself. Then opened the wardrobe in our room, looking for dry underwear. Katya woke up in her stroller; the boy stood shivering, all wet, holding onto her elbow. Skinny bottom, thin legs, a mass of entangled curls—angel. Not a glance in our direction. Katya squeaked. I knew I’d have to get up, so I said, Mama, let me help you find underpants. What can you find here? she screamed back. Bastards, bastards! Told them not to give him water before bed, told them to have some shame and not stuff themselves at our expense, so he has to drink water to fill his belly. Still a beautiful woman, tall, in a torn nightshirt, she yanked her elbow from the boy’s fingers, and suddenly he started sobbing, covering his face. Here! she screamed, like a Greek goddess of terror. Here, put these on! Come, sweetie, I’ll help you, I mumbled, unable to lift my behind.
    Oh no, let him do everything himself, he must learn, I’ll be gone soon. Who am I going to leave him with? Then he fell to the floor, sobbing. Katya’s squawking intensified, and then off she went with her siren.
    •   •   •
    That’s the sketch; I portray myself with complete objectivity. The reason behind it was the annual call from my daughter, who, as I’ve said, lives in some distant outskirt with an illegitimate child by her imaginary lover. So the phone rang, and the boy and I both raced to answer, as usual. I won.
    “Mama, it’s me.”
    “Hello, you.”
    “Right. Mama, my urine test shows protein.”
    “How many times did I tell you you need to wash regularly? Go take a shower; that will take care of your protein.”
    Choked laughter. She always laughs like this when she wants to die. Just wait awhile, I’ll be laughing, too.
    “Mama.”
    “Talk. I’m listening.”
    “They want to put me in a hospital.”
    “What hospital? You have a small child! Go clean yourself up and take the test again.”
    “Okay, okay. But what if my blood’s really bad? What do I do? Lie down and die?”
    “Whose blood is good these days? Your own son’s hemoglobin is half the norm.”
    More choked laughter. “Mine’s half that.”
    “What does it matter? We are talking about your son’s health! He’s undernourished; he needs liver, he needs walnuts. Stop laughing, you.”
    “Right. So you think there’s nothing to be afraid of?”
    “Why are you crying? Stop right now.”
    “Listen to me.” Voice trembling. “I’m due in two weeks. They want to keep me in the hospital until then.”
    “Nonsense. What did you say?”
    “I said I’m high-risk, with high blood pressure plus bad kidneys; what if I croak on the table? What’s going to happen to Katya?”
    “Huh, big deal! Women in our family aren’t easily scared. They tried to scare me, too. I was pregnant with you, and there was little Andrey. So what? Even though I had my mother and your so-called father to take care of him, I refused to be hospitalized and only went when contractions began, at six thirty in the morning. I tried to wake up that father of yours . . .”
    “Right. Enough.”
    “. . . he wouldn’t get up. Don’t go there at all, you hear me? They’ll put you on the table to examine you, then poke you for tests and damage the placenta. They want you to give birth earlier; this way they’ll pay you less for maternity leave.”
    “Fine, all right. I’ll do as you say. You see, I’ve arranged for a neighbor to watch Katya for five days. Longer than that she refuses.”
    “Hang in there, just hang in there. Keep hiding from them; they can’t force you.”
    “Okay then. Bye.”
    “Okay. Kisses.”
    Laughter. “How’s the boy?”
    “What do you care?” And I hung up.
    •   •   •
    Only then did the horror of what I’d just heard sink in. First, she was pregnant again.
    Second, what she really wanted was to leave her