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Tights

28 Mar

by Olga SE

Oxana was sitting in her mother’s freshly redecorated bright coloured kitchen sipping coffee. She was waiting for her mother to say goodbye to her guests and join her. Despite the fact that Oxana was 23, had just got married and moved into a new flat bought by her mother, she couldn’t stop comparing herself with the woman she called Mum and envying her.

That slim, young-looking, well-groomed, extremely energetic and communicative lady seemed to have achieved everything one could only dream of: she had a comfortably furnished flat with spacious rooms, a luxurious car, a lot of friends and clients who invariably turned into her friends… She certainly knew how to make the most of what she possessed both in looks and in dealing with people. Her mother was one of the most respected and highly-paid psychotherapists in the city. Success and chic seemed to have become her constant companions. But it had not always been like that. Oxana was one of those few who could remember other times… 

“Mum, let’s play!”

“I can’t, dear. A client is due.”

It meant she would have to wait at least for an hour till her mother had finished helping another woman to tackle her problems. Or was it a man this time? She was used to spending nearly all her time in the company of her brother who was only a little older than she.

They played, watched TV, looked through some books and had a nasty quarrel. Finally, their mother saw off the last client for the day and gave them something to eat. Late at night Mum said to her, “Oxana, you’re going to stay with your father tomorrow. I have too much work to do to look after you. Your brother will have to look after himself. Promise me to be a good girl, will you?”

When Oxana opened her eyes the next morning, she was at her father’s place. Mum must have carried her there while she was asleep. Her clothes were hanging on the chair, carefully folded. A parcel with her breakfast was waiting for her on the kitchen table. It was still warm from which Oxana concluded that Mum had just left. She was alone with Dad. She knew that after breakfast they were to go for a walk.

Dad started dressing her. He put her tights on her legs, having forgotten about her panties. Oxana protested and cried. But her father thought it didn’t really matter. He suggested either putting on her panties over her tights or going without them. Oxana felt angry and humiliated. She was sorry Mum wasn’t there. It was then that she thought for the first time, “It’s no fun being a child. It’s much better to be adult.” She was two at the time.

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Posted by on March 28, 2011 in Short Stories

 

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