Sister – hurt
In autumn, my sister came home suddenly. My mother picked her up at the station while I was swimming in the pool of a public gym. They sat in the audience seat by the swimming pool and talked. My sister told me later that her boyfriend left her for another girl from the church. I had seen the girl. She was as pale and lackluster as the man, with the same mushroom-like haircut like his. I told her they obviously belonged together. A few months later, the man had a motorcycle accident with the new girlfriend in the back, and both were severely injured. I was impressed by the great luck my sister had been blessed with, but she was more fixated on grudging his betrayal.
I wondered how my sister discussed the break-up with my mother on the night at the swimming pool. I had never had boy issues at the time, but I couldn’t imagine confiding with my mother about my disappointment and hurt in dating. Like the time my mother found out my period, I felt a deep shame in my femininity when I was with her. If I were to be hurt by a man, what would my mother be of help? What could she do other than to commiserate and lament our fate? What I sought after was the strength to remain dignified and to move on with life when an undeserving man rejected you. I had believed my sister had it, but she disappointed me with her meek response. I thought she was, after all, a woman.