After a long and exhausting week, marked by endless waiting and an anxiety that gradually consumed me, the day had finally arrived. For my mother, it was a moment of joy, but for me, it was real torture. If I had the choice, I would never have been in that room with her, waiting for the messenger to arrive.
As soon as I heard the distinct sound of horse hooves approaching, my heart raced, beating so hard that it seemed about to burst out of my chest. Without saying a word, my mother, who was sitting next to me, quickly got up from the sofa and hurried towards the door.
I couldn't understand how, in her mind, that would solve our problems. For her, it was the solution we needed to escape that anguish.
As soon as my mother opened the door and took the letter from the messenger, I could see a small smile of joy forming on her lips. However, there was one major obstacle to her brilliant plan: me.
While my mother saw that letter as a solution to all our problems, I saw it as a kind of prison... a path that would lead away from my freedom. And even though I wanted to reject it all, I knew I couldn't.
I didn't consider myself a disobedient daughter, quite the opposite. I always ended up doing my mother's bidding, and as if that wasn't enough, she loved to brag about it in conversations with her friends.
There was one thing my mother didn't know - or maybe she knew and pretended not to understand: I didn't want to be part of royalty. To be more specific, I didn't even want to be part of it, yet I was forced, against my will, to take part.
To get away from all the fuss my mother was making, I decided to go to my room and hide on the roof. That place was like a sanctuary for me, where I could find the peace and quiet I was looking for at that difficult time. From up there, I had a beautiful view of the city.
As I looked out over the landscape, I tried to find a convincing argument to persuade my mother to change her mind. However, all I had were honest opinions that didn't seem to be enough to convince her. I already knew that I wouldn't be able to get away from her for long, after all, we lived in the same house.
After taking one last look at that beautiful view in front of me, I decided to jump out of the window back to my room. As soon as the tantalizing aroma of roasting meat began to waft through the air, I realized that I wouldn't be able to avoid the conversation we were going to have downstairs.
As I got out of bed and walked towards the door, I heard my mother shouting my name from downstairs. As much as I wanted to run away, I knew I had no choice but to face what was waiting for me downstairs. In the end, she was determined and, one way or another, I always ended up giving in.
(Apparently, I won't be able to escape. It looks like I'll have to throw myself into that nest of snakes).
I sighed, already knowing what awaited me in that place, as I thought to myself.
I opened my bedroom door and walked slowly towards the living room. There, I found my mother setting the table, but at no point did she turn to look at me. Even so, I caught a glimpse of her unfriendly expression, which made it clear that she was already aware of my presence.
My suspicions were only confirmed when she finally finished setting the table and turned to me. She just gave me an angry look, but what really startled me was the silence. My mother, known for talking non-stop, didn't say a word. That, to me, said more than any scolding.
While my mother picked up the dishes from the kitchen counter and arranged them on the table, my father, sitting there drinking coffee and reading his newspaper, only lowered his glasses to give me a quick glance before returning to his reading.
My father chose not to get involved in the conversation, after all, he knew that when it came to stubbornness, I was second to none. And I didn't blame him. Deep down, I understood that I wasn't the only one carrying that burden. I was fully aware that our problems would only get worse with the arrival of the cold months.
"Tell me something, Livia: would you have died if you had only filled in the form?"
My mother, no longer able to contain herself, looked at me with a slightly irritated expression and, letting out a short sigh of exhaustion, finally asked.
When she asked me that question, I couldn't help myself and looked away. However, that was the worst choice I could have made. As soon as I turned my face away, she gave me an even harsher look, as if she wanted not only to embarrass me, but also to force me to agree with her.
"Have you stopped to think that this selection could be a great opportunity, both for you and for us?"
My mother said, still slightly annoyed with me, as she placed the jug of juice on the table - or rather, almost broke it in the process. Seeing that ice-cold orange juice right in front of me made my mouth water, just imagining how refreshing it would be. However, I would have to wait a while; after all, it would be a waste to drink my glass now and then have to eat the bread plain.
Listening to everything my mother had told me, I let out a long, exhausted sigh, thinking that, by filling in that form, I wouldn't just be accepting her offer to be grateful, but I would also be signing my own death warrant.
My mother had an extremely annoying technique for trying to control me - and most of the time it worked. All I had to do was look away or show the slightest disinterest, and our surroundings would turn into a battlefield. Whenever this happened, she would give me a look of pure disgust, as if to say, without needing words, how disappointed she was in me, to the point of making me do exactly what she wanted.