Late

The soup got cold.

Guess who has to heat it up again? Of course I get to do all the work as usual. And of course no one respects my effort. Least of all that ungrateful daughter, late for dinner although the school ended four hours ago. I keep her timetable on my bedside table so I know when she’s supposed to be home. She won’t fool me. It’s only a ten minutes’ walk and she knows the dinner is ready at half four. But what does she care? Yesterday, she even had the cheek to tell me she didn’t want dinner. That she ate at school. So what? Does she think I make an effort to cook so that it can go to the bin? Two courses every day! So disrespectful of her.

Well, of course we pay for school dinners. A waste of money if you ask me. But what would they think at school if we didn’t? Who knows whether she eats them or not. And that’s exactly what I told her: if I didn’t see you eat, it means you haven’t eaten. That should teach her.

But of course nothing I say sinks in. Who would listen to me? Not my own daughter, that’s for sure. So the silly child was late today as well. Had to hang out with Jolka, that repairman’s girl from the other side of the town. For four hours! I’ve told her before, she is no friend of yours. Not a suitable company at all. Why can’t you hang out with Beata instead? That one is a good girl, straight As ever since she went to school. She's always so well groomed too, her uniform immaculate at all times. And those nice white collars. Her mother crochets them herself.

Jolka is trouble. Should be expelled from school if you ask me. I've been told she can’t even read properly. She stutters and confuses letters, even in the fifth grade. Her grades are appalling. Her parents must be so ashamed!

I actually saw her father last week when the radio stopped working all of a sudden. That workshop of his is a mess, wires and spare parts taking up every ounce of space. He looks like he’s gained weight again if that’s even possible.

And the mother... Does she even work? I remember her from the last meeting at school. That outrageous makeup. Her eyes looked like Christmas baubles! Did she really think no one would notice the bruise under all the paint?

Anyway, the soup won’t taste right after all that heating up and getting cold again. Serves her right for being late. And the reason? Jolka told my gullible daughter that she wanted to die. That she was trying to decide how to do it. Of course she wouldn’t have, I said. She was just stringing you along!

That cheeky youngster had the gall to say that I didn’t understand. That Jolka would’ve done it, that she said her life wasn’t worth living. Only she wasn’t sure whether to wait for the train and jump in front of it or to swallow her mother’s pills. She thought that the pills might not have been enough and didn’t want to throw up or have her stomach pumped in hospital. Yeah, right, spare me the melodrama. To me, it just shows that she didn’t mean it.

How could I have raised such a naïve kid, I have no idea. Such a goody two-shoes, holier than thou type. She takes after her father, he’s been a wide-eyed innocent all his life too. She must be doing it for attention. No way anyone could be like that for real.

What a lame excuse anyway. Who knows what they were really up to? Maybe she wasn’t with Jolka at all? But no, this daughter of mine is too simple to come up with such an elaborate tale. No imagination at all. Otherwise, she wouldn’t make me worried like this. That’s what I tell her all the time: how can you do all this to me? I’m so worried about you, how can you not care? Just you wait till you are a mother yourself, then you’ll know what it’s like. It will serve you right!

Honour thy mother and thy father they say! And what does she do? Saunters off to who knows where with a complete stranger. Tells me she followed Jolka all around the town because she couldn’t leave her alone. Had to talk her out of topping herself. Well, I’m at home alone all day and I manage. No one has to rush in to keep me company. Not that they would!

In fact, they don’t even have the decency to be home on time. The dinner got cold and it’s me who has to heat it up again. I have to do everything in this house. All by myself.

No one else cares.