I was rooted to the spot. One word and I was ready to explode like a volcano. He looked at her and then at me, a glance full of hope and anticipation. „Come here, darling, I want to show you something“, he said. The woman smiled at me encouragingly and followed him into our guest room. I was furious and curious at the same time. You shouted in my head and made incredible suggestions about who this woman was and what she did in my house: a new housekeeper? A divorce lawyer? A mistress? A psychiatric nurse?
He called me again. I slowly went through the room and saw them staying in the doorway with their back to me. I looked into the space between their shoulders and saw someone lying on the bed. It was someone small and fragile like a doll. On my coming closer, it coughed and turned its head to me, eyes closed. It was not a doll. It was a living child. My child.
I brought a little boy into the world six years ago. His father left us for another woman and I raised him alone. It was hard and in the moments of weakness I often regretted he had ever been born. I tried my best though and gave him all the love I had. On one summer day we went to the circus full of clowns and animals. He loved animals, my little boy. After the performance we were going to go straight home but I saw a man in a tiger costume who twisted balloon animals. I wanted to surprise my child and left the stroller just one meter away from me. When I turned around, balloon in my hand, the stroller was gone and with it my two-year-old boy. Nobody saw anything. Somebody stole him from me in front of the eyes of hundreds of people.
„You found him“, I said to my husband. „You found my boy“, I sobbed, tears running down my cheeks. I did not say another word that night. My husband explained me later that Tracy was a social worker in the orphanage. She worked closely with police and tried to reconstruct the past of the children who had been found and brought to them. He met her at a colleague’s party and decided to ask her for help in order to find my lost angel. At that moment I understood how silly it was to think that this man could betray me.
I needed to spend some time alone and after taking a rapid glance at my sleeping boy I went to a bar on the edge of the town. I almost forgot about your existence when I heard your hissing inside my head. I ordered a glass of gin and tonic and hoped it would help me to tune you out. My husband, my dear husband was a trustworthy man. He loved me and spent all his free time for the good cause. You had no right to stay in my life. You had to leave. Why did not you leave?
I left him alone with Tracy, you told me, a beautiful young single woman with the big heart. I saw them sitting on the sofa near the fireplace, drinking tea, talking about children, charity, music and books. My mind pictured my husband standing up and going to bring the book they were just talking about. He then approached her from behind, put his arms on her shoulders and touched her neck with a tender kiss. I wanted to scream from the pain you brought me. I ordered another glass, then another one, and another one.
„Do you mind if I join you?“ a young black-bearded man asked and sat beside me, a half-finished bottle of beer in his hand. Dressed in a dark blue suit, he came here apparently right after work. He was tall and well-built, his biceps protruded through his jacket. We plunged into a conversation which made me calm. After a while I was ready to go back home. I paid for the drink. The man stood up, embraced me and wished me all the best. What surprised me most was what I saw in his eyes: it was not lust but kindness and empathy. I put on my coat and stepped into the cold night.
It is 3.16 a.m. I still feel you. So I am begging you, please, leave me alone. I am a truly happy woman now, I have my beloved husband and my precious child. You must release me from your chains, I am not your prisoner. I must go back home. They are waiting for me. I hear the soft breathing of the man behind my back who is not my husband. You might have turned this last hour to a crime but I am not guilty. Do you hear me? I am not guilty. This letter is my last goodbye and my last request: vanish out of my life and take all my pain and shame with you.
Yours insincerely,
Margaret Backstaber
