(A month and a half later)
Olga pulled herself from the floor and held the bottle of vodka up as if she had yanked Excalibur from the rock. For a flask of alcohol her sister Helga and Arnold stuffed in the back of the bottom of the cupboard since their housewarming party nearly a year ago, there was nothing about it that made it unusable; no insects got in and it still had some time to go before reaching the sell by date.
*swish* *swish* *swish*
"Mhm. This should be perfect."
Outwardly, life seemed to be going well for Olga since her sister and brother-in-law gave her room and board upon coming back from England as she got her life together. Given the latter's childhood history of being raised in a boarding house coupled with the fact that their house had more room than they knew what to do with, having her around wasn't too much of an inconvenience. Furthermore, Olga's arrival coincided with the addition to a second daughter, so having her around as a third pair of hands was a plus. While it was a far cry of a life everyone expected after years of scholarly toil as well as the extramural refinement therein, there was so much to make it all worthwhile be it the mended rapport with Helga, having Arnold to talk to at the (relative) drop of a hat or simply the unconditional adoration of Kimberly and hopefully down the line Cecile.
At the moment, the elder of Bob and Miriam's daughters occupied herself making dinner; Linguine with Lobster and Vodka Cream Sauce. The remaining quantity of vodka came out the the perfect half a cup needed once measured out. And yet, an eerie chill suddenly enveloped the kitchen and shattered Olga's sense of peace. Like a song from a siren, the scent and sound that came with the bottle being opened and its contents hitting the glass of the measuring cup was recognizable…reassuring…beckoning…beguiling…and all too unfortunately nostalgic.
"Olga Pataki. We meet. Again."
Almost as if by telepathy, that familiar fragrance seemed to dare Olga to ingest the remaining half a cup rather than use the contents for tonight's dinner.
"My, my, my…You look so much like your mother did all those years ago…that same fraying sense of hope…that same fatigued will to fight…that same thirst for something to numb the pain that came with all of life's disappointments and deferments…And what do we do when we're thirsty Olga?"
Olga's arm trembled as she held the glass away from her; akin to the way one would hold an angry venomous snake.
"No." she whispered back venomously. "You won't win this with me."
Still, it continued to taunt her with a malicious chortle.
"Ah, will power. Miriam had it too. And how did that work out in the end? Face it, neither of you thought your lives would come to this; rotting and festering like a bruised apples at the stump of the tree of life. All the while, watching other fruits grow to their full potential…thriving in the ways everyone said you deserved to your whole life-"
Taking advantage of the ethereal monologue, Olga quickly dumped the vodka into the saucepan. With a final hiss, whatever malevolent intents came with the alcohol dissipated in the wake of the heat beneath it. Still, the battle was far from over. Any sense of victory came of this was cut short as the empty bottle stood in sentry on the counter; likely possessing some trace drops pooled on the bottom which most likely would breathe new and ugly life into the phrase 'like mother like daughter.' Grasping the container by the neck, Olga purposely fell forward and gave it a hurl across the room. Upon hitting the floor, the telltale shatter gave her a reason to smile as her body also came to rest on the tile.
"Aunty Olga!"
The concerned pitter patter of her niece was followed by those of Helga with her second daughter in tow.
"Oh my goodness, Olga are you okay."
"I'm fine." Olga replied as Eleanor helped her Aunt off the ground. "More shaken up than anything."
"Eleanor, can you get Aunt Olga the dustpan-"
"Don't worry Helga, I got it. Besides, there's broken glass and Eleanor doesn't have any shoes on...(she jumps back off the kitchen floor with a deep gasp as shock fills her face)...but if you want though Eleanor, you can help me grate some parmesan cheese once you get your feet covered."
Order was restored and the rest of the day went without incident. Dinner was also very delicious and enjoyed by all. And apart from being briefly mentioned (by Eleanor) as part of the day's events, Olga's trip was largely rushed it aside as just a footnote bought on by a momentary lapse in carefulness.
"We'll talk later.' Olga pantomimed to her psychologist brother in law as she passed him the parmesan cheese bowl.
(Later over dishes)
"…so after the bottle began to talk to you-"
"I had to throw it." Olga said as she put the last bowl in the dishwasher. "If it went in the recycling in one piece it still would have tormented me."
"I'm just glad your trip didn't lead to any serious harm." Arnold said as he wiped down the table. "Falling on tile isn't exactly-"
"Well, all those acting lessons from high school and college paid off." Olga said with a sad chuckle. "Still though. Hearing the thing talk to me about my mom was beyond the pale. I don't want to be her."
"And you're not." Arnold replied consolingly. "You've worked very hard not to fall into that trap and…well, how you handled it today was strikingly unorthodox, but still shows you have a willingness to fight."
"But what if one day I don't want to fight it." Olga said sadly. "I'm sure you'll get me in a 12 step program, and help Eleanor navigate the nuances of having an aunt that struggles in this regard…it's Helga I don't want to lose. Especially since we built something back amidst the poor rapport we had growing up…whatever came out of that bottle…"
"DADDY! THE LOTT'RY NUMBERS ARE GOING TO START SOON!"
Arnold's train of thought derailed as the sound of his daughter's voice sailed from the family room to the kitchen. Not wanting to disappoint her, he smiled at his sister in law and poured himself a cup of cold tea from the pot on the stove.
"We'll pick this up. Let's go watch some numbers."