Chapter 38

The sun shone through the high windows and bathed the mixture of modern appliances and old but charming furniture in warm light. Ida was peeling an apple at the old wooden table, when she saw from the corner of her eye her daughter rushing by the kitchen door.

"Mona? Come back, please."

Mona rolled her eyes for a moment in a forced act of teenage rebellion. But it hadn't the desired outcome of making her feeling cool and unconcerned. Slowly she dragged her feet back to the kitchen door, knowing what was to come.

"Where are you going?"

"Out. Meeting friends."

"Who and where?"

"Just some friends. We want to go to the Lido for swimming."

"Just friends? Or just my boyfriend, Mona?" Ida looked sharply at her defiant daughter.

Mona bit her lips.

"Both, I suppose." She answered after a short while looking down at her fiddling fingers. She was ill at ease. Lately her mother made it a sport to corner and question her.

"And when do I need this mysterious boy without a face or a name?"

"God, mom. Not that again! What's this, hmh? An interrogation? You're not Donario, you know."

She tried to cover up her guilty consciousness with drama and flippant answers. Ida took a deep breath trying to stay calm.

"No, I'm not. I'm your mother, who won't tolerate this behaviour of yours for very much longer. I want answers, Mona. I've wanted them for a very long time now. And you're going to give them to me."

"Well, if you've been waiting such a long time for answers, then it won't make much difference, if you just wait a bit longer, hmh?" She retreated step by step. "I'm late anyway. We'll talk later, okay? Bye." She turned around and tried to flee, but her mother's stern voice stopped her in her tracks.

"SIMONA! Come back in here! We're not done yet."

Mona looked carefully around the door frame.

"Come in here and sit down."

"Mom…"

"No mom…Sit down! You know, I've had it with your attitude. Tell me, how many mothers would have kept their silence about this? How many would have let their daughters meet every day, I presume, their boyfriend and not ask? Look, Mona, I thought, give her some time. Let her have her little secret. She will come to you eventually and start telling, bring the boy home, so that we can get to know him."

"Mom…please."

"But you never do. And you never tell. And that makes me really wonder who this boy is and why you hide him from me. Now I understand you're late for your date. I respect it this time once more. BUT, Mona - do you listen? - this has to stop. The next time you go out to meet him, I expect that the bell will ring and that this said boy will step into our house and introduce himself to us. Because if the bell won't ring, you won't go out. Do I make myself clear?"

"Am I grounded?" Mona asked flabbergasted.

"Not yet and don't make me. It hasn't ever been necessary before, Mona, but if you keep violating the rules, I'm going to change them. You're old enough to make this choice and you will bear the consequences of this choice. Not me, you alone. Now leave and think about this."

Mona stood up.

"You know, mom, it's not that simple."

"Maybe. But since you refuse to talk, how can I be the judge of it?" asked Ida harshly. Sometimes it hurt to be a mother and her strictness made her hurt more than Mona. She didn't want to be like this and she felt a stab of anger towards Mona for making her acting like this.

"Mom…?"

Ida had turned her back on her and resumed peeling the apple.

"I'm sorry." Mona said with a small voice.

"I know, Mona, but this time, sorry just isn't enough anymore."

With hanging shoulders Mona left the kitchen and seconds later the door fell shut. Ida let her hands sink. Unseeing she looked at the wall, her appetite gone, heart aching for her daughter. And all of a sudden she missed her own past mother very much to talk to. Just to sit down with a cappuccino in her mother's old kitchen and talk about life and Mona. Listen to the same stories about her own rebellious teenage years and the stories about her early childhood she had heard so often that she didn't know if the pictures in her head were her own memories or if they had been planted there by repetition. She heard steps and then Victor's voice broke the silence Mona had left behind.

"Ida? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Everything. Mona's just…" She waved her hand in the air and noticed that she still had the knife in a firm grip. She laid it down.

"….a teenager."

"Why is she making it so difficult for me?"

"Because that's her job. Age 13 to 18: annoy the hell out of and oppose your parents and try to give them as little sleep at night as possible while you're out on a party until the wee hours of the morning, hang out with weird people, discover idealism, justice and fairness for all mankind and try to act all grown up, while you're trying to figure out who and what you are and who and what you want to be. Not to mention being as much the victim as the culprit of that hormonal roller coaster."

"Oh, Victor…." Ida smiled. She loved how he was able to make her smile when she was down. The famous writer smiled in return.

"Now, what was it again, why I came? Oh, yes. I have a sudden craving for ice-cream."

"Remember you said you wouldn't eat ice-cream anymore until your scales is your friend again?"

"Well, when I said this I was still in shock from dottor Angiari's diagnosis. So it doesn't count."

He moved steadily towards the fridge.

"Oh no. Stand right where you are, mister. I'm armed and not afraid to use it."

She held up her knife and stepped in front of the fridge.

"Ida, I never knew. Would you really kill me to keep me healthy?" Victor grinned amused.

"Am I in your will?" She asked cheekily.

"No…?"

"Then it's not worth it. I'll just try to sway you with ambrosia."

"With walnuts and a good shot of rum?"

"It's not winter, Victor."

"Well, you have to give me something here, Ida." He almost whined.

She turned around to fetch the fruit basket.

"Here. Make your choice." She answered smugly and dropped the basket into his hands. He hastened to tighten his grip.

"Hey! That's foul play." His eyes twinkled.

"Oh yes? And what are you going to do about it? Arrest me for it, officer?"

"Can't. I left my badge in the States. I'll just lay you over my knee and give you a good spanking."

Victor put the basket down and stepped towards her with a mean expression that was belied by his laughing eyes.

"Oh no. You wouldn't dare…." She held up again her knife, laughing.

"Now come on. Show me that you mean it." And with a flick of his wrist he had disarmed her. The knife fell down to the floor and skidded over the tiles before it collided with the cupboard.

"Now what, missy?" He asked menacingly.

"Screaming for help?" Ida whispered.

"Not much use, if I put my hand over your mouth…just like this." And with a sudden tug he had her pressed against him with his hand covering her mouth. She went limp in his embrace and the smile left her eyes. Unexpectedly sexual tension flared up between them. Realising the compromising situation he let her immediately go and stepped away.

"I'm sorry, Ida. I shouldn't have…I was totally out of line. I'm sorry."

"No, it's my fault, too, Victor. I'm sorry, too." She smiled tentatively at him.

"No, don't be. I'm…. " And with a helpless shrug he turned around and left the crime scene.

"…a stupid cow." Ida concluded angrily. She picked up the knife and rammed it viciously into the apple.

"….a bloody idiot." Victor berated himself and picked up his pencil holder as closest object to throw it against the wall. At the last second he managed to hold himself back. He didn't want the noise to alert Ida. Instead he ripped off some paper from a pad and balled up to throw it into the waste paper basket, which wasn't half as satisfying, but at least quiet.

Both were left to ponder the question what on Earth had just happened, why it happened and what it really meant.