I

– Tomozz, they’ll come to propose ya…. – said my father and nervously swallowed a spoon of soup. Trying to understand who those words were addressed to and thinking that it was a joke I looked at my sister and then again at my father.

– Sirush, tomozz have your daughter ready, normal-looking, hair done, but not too much, – here I finally realized that the words were addressed to me, since my sister was a way too young. I was just 17 years old, was in my final year at school and couldn’t really understand what it was all about. For a second the words “will come to propose ya…” seemed confusing to me but then I clearly realized what it was about. For another second I panicked, since the talks about “proposing” were very frequent among my relatives, but I could never imagine that it might become a reality one day.

– Dad, what ya talking about? Marriage? I’m still in school, I wanna go to uni, I don` wanna go to other’s house, – my father threw the spoon into the plate with red soviet-style patterns on it and the drops, frightened by the bang of the spoon embraced the plate and we became wary. Instead of looking only at me he, as always, threw a glance from under his bristling brows first at my mother, who as always had the less meal in her plate and who instead of eating was playing with the noodles floating in her soup. She didn’t look up at my father, and unwilling to feel the pressure, she seemed to be floating together with the noodles in the plate, trying to tear herself away from reality. But, the silence and tension hanging in the air stopped the floating and she had to look up at her father.

– Knock some sense into her, they have my word already. They’ll come tomozz to propose and if you make any scenes here you’ll take the hit – saying that my father squeezed the piece of cheese on the bread with his thumb, and my mother’s half-smiling eyes got lost in the depths of the meal and lips thinned into a tight line. Her life, which had been squeezed and swallowed like cheese and was so alien to her true self have most probably flashed in front of her eyes during this conversation. Unable to bear with what had happened and not fully realizing my own feelings, I dared to confront my father.

– But Dad, c`mon, I’m not your foe, I’m a human being, I don` wanna that, – but my father interrupted me without even moving, but raising his voice a little bit, underlining my “affiliation” to being a girl and assuring me that he knows better what is good for a girl. Parallel to that he rebuked and laid up blame on my mother for failing to raise me properly. Unable to hold back my disappointment, my eyes filled with tears, and I felt such an emotional pain that I had never felt before. My mother hugged me quickly and moved by a strong maternal instinct, tried to hide me. Making sure that I’m fully under her protection, she shouted.

– I’m begging ya, don` do it. She is a kid. She doesn` wanna it, you see?  Lemme send her to Yerevan, to go on in uni. Don` be so pushy, – she was stroking my back and I was desperately trying to detach myself from the dreams she listed․ Tears were falling down my eyes, drop by drop and I, as if I enjoyed the tears, was screwing up my eyes tighter, to choke down my pain with my tears. My mother wanted to sew for me a beautiful dress out of all her unfulfilled dreams, which would fit me perfectly and with pockets. That dress would keep me warm, make me more beautiful and confident, and the neckline was completely loose and not suffocating. Unfortunately, my father’s straitjacket was turning out to be the strongest one, which was wrapping me up, twisting around the waist.

– Yerevan??? Are ya nuts? shouted my father, – I have no daughter to send to Yerevan, have her caught in a mess and smirching my reputation. I’m not the guy to send the girl to Yerevan, no way. Enough, let her go humbled and do what I said – saying that my father looked at my mother and me, lost behind her, up and down. Quickly swallowing the soup, he brought the bowl with Soviet-style red edges up to his mouth and snorting loudly drank the last drops of the soup. He got up quickly and left the kitchen. My father didn’t even look in my direction. Sometimes the look says so much… And I was following him with my look begging for understanding, but who would understand me? Only my mother. My mother, who got married at an early age and had buried her dreams and tolerated the hard life created by her family. My mother, who at my age already had her first child and was oppressed for not having a son and who had not found any comfort in life. I never could really understand how she felt. I kept asking myself whether my mother was so strong to stay or was too weak, so she had to tolerate all that. I don’t know, but my mother felt my pain with her silent attitude. When she got married at the age of sixteen with a man from a renowned family of Gyumri, she found herself in a situation where the new bride was in the limelight of a big family. She had to live in the house with her husband’s parents, his grandmother and brother. In this situation, the family needed a baby boy after the show wedding, but I failed to meet their expectations. At those times, when being a girl was suffocating me, not allowing to breathe, I dreamed of being a boy. And I know how much my mother dreamed about it.

I was still in my mother’s arms when she dared to speak after my father left.

– Lusine, clean the table, quick. C’mere my girl. Look, honey – my mother continued caressing my face, – I cannot go against ya dad. You know what I wanna you to have, what I dream, but I cannot go against your father. Got it?

Saying that my mother was waiting with such great hope that I would live what she had lived and that I would understand why she could not go against my father. Realizing that life had hurt my mother so much that she couldn’t embrace who she was from the beginning, I understood that I don’t want to be a part of that life either. I realized that I was all alone, on my own! It was at this point that I realized that my life was ruined. It was at this point that my emotional pain, as if it had boundaries before, went beyond those boundaries, and I dived into it without knowing how to swim.

– I got it mom, I got it – I said and stood up. Meanwhile, my sister quietly cleaned the table and went upstairs with me. My mother finished the housework and went to bed. Lying on the creaking wooden bed where my father used to sleep as a child,

I felt the comfort of the bed that had seemed so uncomfortable to me for so many years. I used to ask for, demand a more comfortable and noiseless bed, but my father thought that nothing should be changed in his father’s house. Today I was begging in my mind for my bed not to be changed ever, just not to lose it. Running through it over and over in my mind I wanted to understand why me, why such a tragedy should have happened to me. Where am I going, who is proposing to me? I was wandering in which “turf” I was going to live in and as I began to see the picture where I might not see my friends in the yard and would definitely miss the Vardavar festivities in the summer, I realized that the tragedy seemed greater than a second ago. Then I started to think that I might not get any education, that I might have the same life as my mother has and it terrified me. The next second the first thing that came to my mind was to run away, escape, but I maintained my dignity and I just turned from right to left in the darkness. The next moment, my most horrible thought of committing a suicide, though not the last one in my life, popped up. Unfortunately, I knew, again, that I would not be able to, but maybe it was not the most tragic moment now? Not realizing how much pain a person can go through, I started to think about tomorrow’s lessons. School seemed to be the only freedom I had for a few hours. Though, I was given a ride straight to school and back home by car.

The girls from my school were sometimes going for a walk, having some snacks outside, and I was heading looking out of a gray window of the car. “Not gonna tell anyone tomorrow,” I thought, and again I could not believe that my father’s words were true, and my mother’s words… mother has never lied. I knew that for sure.

The whole night rewinding it over and over in my mind I finally was able to fall into a deep sleep. In the morning I could hardly wake to the alarm-clock bell. When I opened my eyes, it seemed to me that it was an ordinary day and everything was ok, but in a while the strongest pain returned, leaving no room for doubts on “correctness” of the day. I realized that it would be better to go to school real quick staying out of everyone’s sight, as if it could change anything. My sister has already been downstairs and while I was dressing up, I could hear the voices in the kitchen. Going down the stairs I was shaking with fear, as if I was about to see a murder victim downstairs, but I didn’t know that the victim would be me. When I walked in and they saw me, my father noticed that I was getting ready to go to school and said, – Stay home and get ready, – at that moment, when it seemed that the pain could not get stronger, it hurt even more than before. I tried to argue and said “please, pa, I should go”. At that moment, my father was eating a sweet eggnog and crunching the pieces of sugar that had not melted under his teeth and swallowing, he, even without looking at my face, said, “Do what I said. Lusine, hurry up”, he said to my sister and picking up with bread the leftovers of eggnog he walked away as usual. At this moment I stood frozen, realizing that this too had been taken away from me. I could never imagine that my life would change like this in one day. My mother was upset and taking the dirty dishes off the table she was urging me not to get upset and start eating to be strong, but I was not even able to look at the food, and crying silently I left the room. When I entered my room, I nervously scratched my head, as I usually did when I was feeling nervous, and started crying so loudly that I was stunned by my own voice. After a while I calmed down a bit, but even after washing my eyes I did not dare to go down to my mother. I knew that seeing her would make me cry, and it would break her heart even more, though how can one break a broken soul? She knew what I felt since once she had been gone through all this too.

I decided to open the window, to breathe some fresh air cherishing the hope that it would calm me down. It was still cold in Gyumri in February, and the cold air immediately twirled and danced under the curtains in the room. I tried to stick my head out of the window to breathe fully, as if I were free, but the bars on the windows seemed to answer me saying “we’ll check it for ya and tell ya. A girl shouldn’t stick her head out”. Strangely, I never thought about the mission of these bars. Moreover, they seemed to me to be noble and beautiful. Now I realized that they were merely witnesses of my humiliated status and that I could not see anything through them except for a few bits of dust in the air. I hoped that Gyumri would comfort me, but Gyumri would never pass through the iron bars. Gyumri was tall, strong, virtuous, ready to help, but if there were rules, it would never break them. Disappointed, I drove the wind out of the room and realized that I had to call my only friend. The phone was downstairs, but I was sure that my mother wouldn’t want me to tell anyone the latest news. I quietly approached the phone as noiselessly as a snowflake and managed to take it to my room quickly. Excited about the crime I committed, I dialed Anna’s number, I was repeating in my mind. “Pick it up, pick it up.” Anna though didn’t pick it up and I realized that she was at school. Disappointed, I returned the phone to its stand and started to search for my mother. My mom, who had to scrupulously clean the house every day, that day had to redouble her efforts, since the guests were expected. She was scrubbing and wiping the carpet in the living room, and it looked like no one ever have stepped on it and it had just been woven. Fearing to stain my mother’s realistic painting, I asked her from a distance if she needed my help. But the only thing she demanded was to eat and feed the dog in the yard. Lord was chained all day in the yard, and now he was inside its kennel hiding from Gyumri heat. Of course, there was always a dog in the distinguished families. And when one of the dogs died, my father immediately brought the next one. I didn’t manage to survive the loss of the dog when the next dog appeared in the house. After the death of the last two dogs, I took a decision not to get attached to the new one, but it didn’t work out. Feeding and caressing him, I noticed how idealized this house and yard were. My father had everything he could have, but I didn’t seem to have anything in this house. Maybe that’s why I will have to leave, and he will stay. 

Feeling the cold on my skin I returned to the house and realized that I didn’t eat anything though it was already the time of the day when my sister was about to return home from school. I had a quick bite and cleaned the table when I heard the knock at the door. I opened the door and saw my sister who was happy as always, satisfied with her life, or at least pretended to be, and careless just the way I used to be when I was her age. Lusine had long hair just like me, because our father did not let us cut our hair. She came in, kissed mom and was going to eat. Mother finished her housework and decided to have a cup of coffee, putting her tired legs on her slippers. Her legs were reddened because of the carpet cleaning and the swollen veins were the result of her hard everyday work. She, who always wore skirts, preferred, though, not to demonstrate her knees. Usually, she wore long skirts at home, which were quite old, but my father would never allow her wear trousers. After his mother’s death, my father was selecting and buying clothes for my mother, and sometimes for me and Lusine as well. I heard for many times that we should wear high-waisted trousers. Short, revealing, or colored clothes were prohibited. And the high waist was supposed to ensure the future pregnancy and childbirth.

Mother, noticing that it was already 4 o’clock, quickly put on her slippers and started to wash her coffee cup. Tensely keeping her eye on the windows, she warmed up the meal. As always, my father came in a way too loud, but this time in a good mood. He said that he was hungry and went to wash his hands. When he returned, he sat down at the head of the table squeezing the cheese to the crunchy bread with his thumb and putting it in his mouth. While eating he was watching TV, which was fixed in the kitchen for years and the sound of which was too loud. My mother put a thick-wall Soviet-style bowl full of soup in front of my father. Slurping the hot soup, my father said.  

– So, Sirush, I brought over fruits. Everything is in place, when laying the table, make sure the table is abundant. The looks of your daughter should be good. Y’ll bring no disrespect to me. – and continued guzzling the soup as if demonstrating that it was useless to argue.

I was also swallowed by that slurp and realizing that I could do nothing I shut up without saying a word. Unable to finish my meal, I went upstairs to my room and started to get ready.

II

The time had come, and it seemed to me that I didn’t recognize myself looking in the mirror. I had to let my hair down but to make sure they didn’t look frizzy. My father wanted to demonstrate to the guests that my hair was not cut, but long and thick. I was wearing a light pink dress and, of course, new slippers. Of course, my father told me to put on my jewelry so that they could see how his daughter was maintained. My sister didn’t seem to understand my pain or didn’t want to, but I was not going to put all my worries on her either. Maybe she was happy. While I was getting ready, I heard the voice of my mother, who was talking on the phone.

– Anna jan, dear, Heriqnaz is busy, she will call ya later, ok? – I ran quickly out of my room and shouted not to hang up and to give me the phone. My mother threw such a glance at me, as if my existence was hanging by a thread. Devastated to the extent possible I left for my room. I leaned on the wardrobe doors and realized what would happen next. I couldn’t do anything wrong, anything that would put my father’s dignity under question. I had to forget about my “me” and had to change my life. I kept thinking that I would have to follow my mother’s steps. But there was something that was prompting me that I was not my mother and that perhaps those times when it could be possible to treat me like that had passed. Or maybe he would be a good man or maybe I would fall in love with him.

Doorbell rang and in a couple of seconds loud male voices could be heard from downstairs. I kept eavesdropping, my heart kept fluttering, everybody entered the house. Confused, I sat on my bad and nervously scratched my head. Then I got up, looked at myself in the mirror, then tried to identify the number of arrived people from behind the door. Alas, they hid in the living room, which was muting the voices. I opened the door, being sure that there will be no one to see me, but at that very moment а latecomer entered. A young man looked up at me from downstairs with candid eyes, but I quickly got back into my room. I had a strange feeling. No, I didn’t fall in love. But a little spark of hope, that he would a normal, simple guy, ignited. I looked again into the mirror, but this time I fixed my hair, my brows and my dress.  He was not old and ugly the way I imagined him to be, but the fear and pain were still there, deep in me. In twenty minutes, my mother called me from downstairs asking me to help her lay the table and bring coffee and sweets. I took the dish with golden patterns and started nervously move towards the living room. The smell of mom’s baked pastry reached my nose and distracted me. While carrying the pastry, I noticed that everyone’s eyes, including the eyes of the furniture in the living room turned in my direction. Even our old rattling clock looked at me and seemed to fall silent. I was confused for a moment, but then, with the corners of my eyes, I tried to catch and identify those present. My father was sitting at the head of the table, a fat-bellied man was on the right, and a woman with a sharp perfume smell was next to him. The smell of the cake disappeared abruptly and transformed into this pungent perfume smell, probably the way my life would disappear sharply as well.

Two young men were sitting in front of them. An older man with an unshaven face and slightly fat was sitting to his left. And finally, the young man next to him, whom I saw at the front door, who seemed to be trying to support me, but in vain. I put the pastry on the table, greeted the guests, and quickly left for the kitchen. There my mother was actively cutting fruit, making coffee, and I begged my mother, at the same speed, not to send me there again, but my mother said that my father would punish me after the guests left if I violate his instructions and the order of preplanned actions.

As I poured the coffee into the cups, I heard a man’s voice:

– Gougo jan….

– Sure, Hrant jan,….

Listening to that dialogue I was taking the coffee to the table, moving like a tightrope walker. I approached the table with my eyes down, but I knew that I had to pass the coffee to the guests, individually. During all this time my mother didn’t have time to sit, but as always, she was running around the table to please the guests. I started handing/distributing coffee, among which there were two very sweet coffees – one for my father and the other for the woman with a sharp perfume. The fat guy demanded an ashtray and immediately lit a cigarette. My mother put the ashtray in front of him, I immediately felt that she didn’t like it. The smell made me wish to escape immediately. We were not used to it because my father did not smoke. I hate that smell, but my father gave the guests both the freedom to smoke and the freedom to “propose” to me like that. I started to pass in the order of “seniority”, my father was the first and impatiently took the cup and spilt some coffee. Then followed the man next to him; then the woman. For a moment I couldn’t decide which of the young man to pass the cup of coffee first, but the one sitting next to my father with a half-smile, an unpleasant look and the cigarette in his mouth reached out to take the coffee cup, and I passed it to him with the equally unpleasant look. Two more cups were not “distributed” – my mom’s and the young man’s. Holding it in my hand I said.

– This is yours…, – I stretched out my hand and the young man looked into my eyes, as if saying that everything was fine. At that moment I noticed that his skin was whiter than that of the others, and mine was relatively dark. I was always feeling uncomfortable about my dark-colored, swarthy skin. My grandmother Heriknaz used to accuse my mother that we were not white skinned because of her, but in reality, my father was the problem. Abruptly interrupting my thoughts, I quickly handed over the coffee and left for the kitchen. I relaxed for a moment. I don’t know why, maybe because of his kind eyes? I thought that everything would be fine, maybe he would love me and I would love him, and maybe he would allow me to make all my dreams come true. I could see him from the distance; he had black hair, infectious laugh and I noticed that he didn’t smoke. I didn’t want to hurry and decided to go up. But at that moment my father called me in. I went inside and he said.

– Heriqnaz jan, my daughter, c`mere and see what the guests brought for ya…- confused and willing to escape, I looked at my mother, then at Silva, who was trying to pull the gift out of the box with her thick fingers and sharp nails. With a slight difficulty, she took off a gold bracelet and said, -“Girl, c’mere here. Be happy. ‘And she tied/fixed the bracelet with her awkward hands to my thin hand. There was so much rudeness in her actions that I couldn’t even see what that bracelet looked like. Again, my emotional pain and fears awakened, and I realized that it could be so that everyone would be as rude as this woman’s movements and fingers. I tried to find some consolation and threw a quick glance at the young man, but at that very moment I saw a confident smile on his face and disappointment came over me again. I should have probably misunderstood him, and he was not compassionate/sympathizing at all. I was about to leave the room, thanking her, but the man sitting next to my father got up and said:

– Heriqnaz jan, please come closer. I’ll give ya my gift, – he looked at me just like his mother did, when she was tying/fixing up that damned bracelet on my hand. Frightened and feeling the doubtful softness of the carpet under my feet, as if it was going to save me at any moment, I reached him and felt the unpleasant smell of cigarettes. He took a small box from his pocket, opened it and looked into my eyes.

This was the end. I started to about death again. How could I think that Sirush’s daughter would be lucky, and the young man I liked would be my future, and not the one with the stink of cigarettes? Terrified and fully realizing that I stood in front of the right person, I looked into his eyes and read there something that terrified me. He didn’t even wait for me to reach out, grabbed my hand, and carelessly put the ring on my finger. His fingers were hard, thick; his touch didn’t tell me anything about him. My mother was tense and felt powerless. My father was proud, appreciating the size of gold and being proud of his success. I noticed Silva’s proud smile, which terrified me even more. I looked at HIM again, but he smiled softly and said, “Congratulations, bro, be happy.” He stood up and hugged him, then he approached me and said “Sista” and hugged me. I was devastated/ruined, I was probably imagining that at least he would be the one, the one who understood me so quickly, but nothing was as I imagined. Then everyone hugged me and congratulated me. I quickly thanked everybody and left sad, eyes filled with tears. As I climbed the stairs, I could see neither their beginning, nor end. Everything was wet and sad. Entering the room, I took out the ring and threw it away. A flood of tears gushed from my eyes; there was a storm inside me. Everything was decided in a few seconds. I could not even imagine such helplessness. Why me? Was I really born for this? I used to think that I deserve more, but life made me believe the opposite. Unable to bear all that, I got up, washed my eyes quickly, and carefully took the phone up. The guests were still at the house. I went out to the yard and gesturing the dog not to bark and become my accomplice. I quickly dialed Anna’s phone number, beep, beep.

– Yes?

– Anna, is that you? –

– Heriqnaz, where have ya been today? What’s up?- and I started to cry. My friend, a bit astonished, but quite happily said, – wait, I’ll change my place. – Sounds of steps and crackling were heard ,- look, my congratulations!!! But why didn’t ya tell me? I’m telling ya everything, -did Anna really think that I knew about it and had chosen this guy from the beginning and didn’t tell her?

– Anna, I didn’t choose him, could you understand how quick it was? Look, no offense, I haven’t told about it anyone, ok?, – but Anna responded in a voice full of suspicion and I guess never grasped at that moment what really happened.  When I hang up, I realized that I was completely alone in this situation and also realized that we were already alone in the house, because the front door slammed and the voices of the guests were heard. Lord began to bark loudly and as they approached the car their whisper could be heard behind the wall:

– “My dear boy, is there anything you wanna have and your dad…..,” said the father, “she was a very humble and beautiful girl, what else is needed?”- and he got into the car. And finally, madam Silva’s voice was heard – only her skin was swarthy – and she slammed the door and threw the truth in my face.

III

I was still out, in the yard. It was cold. My cheeks went red because of the cold; I couldn’t feel my soul. I still couldn’t understand how so many things could happen in such a short period of time. This was Gyumri, when there are different perspectives of the same situation – one is in the house, the other – behind the wall and the third one when getting into the car… and I was the one who was in turmoil and upset. There was only a feeling of injustice; I couldn’t understand how it turned out like this. In my mind I was going over and over all the events that took place in a few hours, scrolling through them like an old movie tape, but for a moment I pressed the red delete button, not worth pressing it, but nothing was deleted. The wind rose, and the dust grains rushed at me, as did the rage/fury that arose in the next second.

I felt lonely, maybe they don’t understand me, because I am not a human being? My anger and fury at that moment were directed at my father, the next moment at my mother, then at Silva, who called me swarthy again and again, then at the young man who allegedly liked me, smoked in our house, at his father, who allegedly noticed me in the market as a piece of meat that his wife was going to marinate.

I couldn’t stand it anymore and hastened to enter the house. I approached the living room with eyes already filled with tears, where my mother had long ago cleaned the table and was already preparing something in the kitchen, and my father was watching TV loudly. I, with tears in my eyes and all my strength gathered into a fist came to say what I thought about all that.

My father was watching some TV programme about animals, where there were cruel scenes which mad happy.

– Oh, dad, poor him, – said my sister.

– Why poor? If the animals wish, their blood boil, – my father reacted angrily as if the real world could be only cruel. He noticed me and asked me with a half-smile, “See, my girl? You were making a big deal out of nothing. They are good folks, respected, just look at the present they brought you, they will take good care of you.

I was going to express all I felt, but I couldn’t. I turned around and ran upstairs to my room; the tears poured out from my eyes, that loud TV sounds didn’t not give me rest, they were mixed up with the sound of my crying, even here I couldn’t express myself. I felt a heartache that I had never felt; strong waves rolled over me, though I couldn’t swim anyway. Everyone on the shore were staring at me and leaving, without reaching out to me.

– At least, he could be of my age, at least he could be a bit hunky, – and remembering his smoking nature I started to see the picture of how icky and nasty my life would be. I was imagining/ I could see how disgusting it would be if he even sit next to me, could feel that smell as if it was the worst thing ever in all that. Then, I thought of his brother and a feeling of guilty that I could ever thought that it was him came over and wrapped me.

I jumped up quickly as if an animal bit me and started to look at myself in the mirror, examining my skin to see if it was “really swarthy”. Then I thought that maybe it could seem swarthy because of the lighting and switched on the light. No, it was swarthy.  In fact, that woman stung me; she touched my sore spot. In reality, this spot was formed by my grandmother Heriqnaz, who kept focusing on that, trying to hurt my mom. But she never understood that she hurt me. I always felt uncomfortable with the color of my skin, thickness of my hair, hair on my hands, brows, the plucking of which was prohibited by my father. And I remember how many times I had been the laughingstock and had to endure the mockery. Afterwards, I noticed that my eyes became more beautiful after crying with my eyelashes neatly arranged one by one. I blinked my eyes and looked at myself once again as if anything could be changed in a moment.

Sitting down on my bed I started to encourage myself, thinking that maybe this was the righteous thing, that maybe the purpose of my life was to become a good daughter-in-law, to have kids, to become my mother’s copy in another house. Next thing I thought was whether it was possible to fall in love with that guy, but it was rather doubtful. This disturbing alarming restlessness of my thoughts threw me deeper into gloom, as if nothing was left in my life, no light.

I started to remember the other young man and think why it wasn’t him. At least it could be him; it seemed to me that I knew him or loved him; in reality, I hated all of them and would definitely be happy to demonstrate my anger. Then I thought that he would be there to protect me, but from what? I had no idea; he was the only one who smiled to me. Maybe he was my age, closer to my ideals, more like the young men who I silently liked but never loved.

After laying motionlessly for a couple of minutes and looking at the ceiling I realized that something is wrong. In this humility/humbleness it seemed to me that I was losing myself. I never ever thought that I was like my mother/would resemble my mother or would have the life like hers. On the opposite. I never respected her weakness, never could understand her, but always loved her immensely.  I would have never married my father; of course, he had a number of good qualities, I love him as well, he was the one took care of us. But he never loved my mother, or maybe it was something else? I probable have no ide so far what love is, but watching films and reading books made me outline in my mind what it should be like.

In any case, my father loved Gyumri, opinions, his reputation, but he didn’t like the women of Gyumri… at least I felt like that at that moment.

I took a decision to do what soothes and relaxes me most, that is to write. From an early age I tried to write when everything seemed to be complicated.

I took my small notepad and started to write something. I realized that my handwriting was poor with crooked little letters and thought that in that new house if they ask me to write they would definitely say my handwriting is too ugly.

Here are the lines I composed:

No one understands me

I keep crying inside

I keep crying outside

And on the face of that arrogant man

I keep losing my future

And…

And… I started to scribble down on my writing. As I was trying to go deeper into the impossibility and misery of my situation, I was forcing myself to feel my heartache/ emotional pain more and more.

No one understands me

I keep crying inside

I keep crying outside

You break my thoughts,

You leave me in a cage

I closed my notepad; it was not the right day for writing.  I took a decision to put an end to all that, to go down and tell my father that I was not an animal and that he could not breed me like a dog and give me as a present to anybody, as if he had nothing to do with that. I wiped my eyes, but one could see that I cried and started to go downstairs slowly. My mother was still in the kitchen. Before entering the living room, I took a deep breath as if I were about to dive into a deep lake, in which I would either be saved or die. Holding my breath, knowing that I was going to keep it for a long time, I started to speak.

– Dad, – he didn’t even look at me. – Dad, – I said louder and nervously, with tears starting to pour out of my eyes again and scratching my head. My father finally looked at me from under his thick eyebrows.

– I don’t wanna marry, I don’t wanna that guy and their house. No one ever asked me, no one ever asked me what I wanna do, – I was crying. – Enough, – my father shouted.

– Dad, please listen to me. Please, understand that I don’t wanna that house and I’m not gonna go to that house. I don’t wanna get married. Why are you doin that to me? Am I boring you? You don’t wanna have me here. They were looking at me as if they were gonna slaughter me tomorrow. I’m not gonna marry him. I swear, I won’t. – I had never talked to my father like that in my life. I had never felt that fear and at the same time the power. My mother approached me scared, but saying nothing. She was astonished and probably scared with what could happen. My father, with a red face, threw his slipper at me and shouted, “I don’t get it, Sirush, is this your daughter? Is this what you raised? So, listen to me. This is the only right thing, they are an honorable family. They came to us and you are playing games with them? Yu r daring to say that you don’t wanna that? And you really think that you should fall in love and only then get married? Don’t make me get up, and if I ever hear the same talks from you, don’t blame me if I punish you. Instead of being thankful for everything we did, for taking you to the best places, for dressing you up and feeding you, for sending you to the best family in the town, you are  will do something here at once, they will keep it at home, feed it and drink it, you are playing games. They will take you, care for you, feed you and will live like a queen.

– No, I don’t want it, no, no…- I shouted crying and bending down from tears and pain. My mother grabbed me but said nothing. I pushed my mother aside as if I had no mother any more.

– I hate you, I do, do you get it? Mom, you didn’t say a word, you are guilty, you are guilty for not saying a single word. Just look at you and see what they did to you and now they wanna take me. Why didn’t you protect me? Why don’t you fight for me? Why? –  My father had already stood up and was wearing the other slipper. My mother started to cry, my father started to come closer to me and I was able to sort out what could happen next and I started to move back quickly. As I turned I got hit in the back. My mother grabbed me shouting loudly.

– Gougo, don’t do that, don’t touch the kid, – my father hit me once again and twisted my arm.

– Get out from here, you, ungrateful creature/beast. I don’t wanna see you, get out of here, – he pushed me to the wall and went out of the room, picking up the slipper on his way to the door. I slipped down the wall like a mosquito and my mother started to beat me crying.

– Shut up (punch), shut up (punch), what do you want? (punch), why are wrangling (punch), enough (punch), enough (punch). You, Heriqnaz, what do you want? (punch), – and she continued to beat me and cry, as if she was angry that I had been beaten.  I pushed her aside and ran to my room. I closed the door, got into bed not taking my clothes off and started to cry.

Pain, anger, all alone …

Crying, I took a decision to get married and have the same future. If no one here ever asked me what I want and never could understand, then what is the difference for me where to live, here or there? Full stop. I made up my mind.

IV

I woke up when it was still dark. The other moment I felt a strong pain in my abdomen. I quickly looked at the clock and it was still 5 o’clock. I realized that my period had started, accompanied as always with pains and stuff like that. Slowly I started to move to the bathroom. I quickly did all the necessary actions and remembered that when my menstrual cycle had not started yet, my grandmother was constantly pestering my mother, trying to pry out if anything was wrong with me. At that time, I didn’t really understand normally what it was all about, no one explained it to me properly. Only my school friend told me one day that all women had to go through it and that there was no need to be scared. In any case, when it happened for the first time I was very scared, confused, worried.  Somehow ashamed, I told my mother about it and she quickly told me what to do, instructed me to keep silence and not to say about it to anyone. And when my grandmother learned about that she started to bomb me with questions asking me every time when it started, how I felt, what medicine I had taken or how I endured the pain. She never gave me the luxury of keeping it to myself and was telling all the details to her friends.

– My girl, my Heriqnaz, has regular cycles, 4 days all in all, we give her a pill and I always tell her to drink some wine, – I once eavesdropped their talk and was awfully embarrassed.

My mother had never told me a word about it; she had never told me what to do, what medicine to take. When it came to that very topic, she behaved like she had been dumb.

Turning off the light in the bathroom, I stopped ny reflection andwent downstairs to find some medicine. I found a pill in the kitchen and swallowed it quickly. Then I went back to my bed, and until the medicine worked I was suffering from terrible pains. My legs and back hurt, I couldn’t feel anything but pain. I pressed my legs to my stomach, waiting for the medicine to work. I hated those days. It was so unfair that we, women, had to bear that all, everything that was painful. The pain became less in an hour, but I couldn’t’ fall asleep again and horribly tired from the very morning I switched off the alarm-clock.

It was Saturday and unfortunately, I was free, not occupied with anything. I got up, made the bed. I could hear my father’s loud voice from downstairs. I went down, not looking at him. He slurped the last gulp of tea and went out of the house in a rush. I had no intention to look neither at him, nor at my mother. But to my surprise, she came closer to me and said:

– Heriqnaz jan, my dear, I didn’t have a wink of sleep and suffered the whole night thinking of you. After all me and your dad want the best for you, you know? Please, go and marry that youngster, he seems to be a good fellow. And most importantly, that we will not worry about you, your life will be pretty much on track, you understand, my girl?- it seemed to me that my mother never gave birth to me, never knew what I felt, never had a miserable status at this house and always believed that it was the only truth.

– Mom, I’ll do that for you to see and remember how my life ruins.

– Please, stop, m’dear. Yu behave like an actress from Gyumri Dramatic Theatre. GO and bring your sista