Atmosphere in Our Family

Yesterday was my son’s birthday. And I wasn’t overly happy about it. I remember perfectly well how I took him in my arms for the first time 24 years ago. What an exciting and unforgettable experience. A treasure in my hands! And now… I don’t wish even to talk to him. 
In the morning, I couldn’t bring myself to come out into the kitchen and wish him a happy birthday. Because this would be false. That would be hypocrisy. I do wish him well, but talking to him is an ordeal. Whatever I say is immediately rejected. He snaps back, not replies. Asking him about anything or for any favor is out of the question. He has no time for anything except his own concerns and his own self.

His mother looks at him with admiration. Her son is her sun. Spotless. Even when observes with unseeing eyes how she slaves away on the vegetable bed. It won’t occur to him to offer his mother to carry a bucket full of water if he encounters her with in the street. He hollers “What bastard opened the window in my room?” Mom – bastard? Somebody who is prepared to give away every bit of herself for him… 
“Our boy is good” she keeps saying like a prayer. “He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t smoke. He doesn’t use drugs. He works. He can do lots of things with his hands”. 

All of this is true. It also true that he is a selfish swine who haggles over a bigger piece of ice cream with his younger sister over dinner table. He is not protective of her. Or anybody. Why, indeed, bother? Absolutely irresponsible. And WOULD NOT listen to wise advice of his parents. 
No, I’m not lecturing, far from it. I give a wide degree of freedom. But there  must be a limit to anything. Life without brakes is a dangerous movement. As I say this to my wife, she accuses me of being a “no-man” who has NO for everything, an absolute prohibitionist. This is not true. It’s just that she is an “all-allowed” mother. Her permissiveness has spoilt our son. She turns on me in indignation. And where were YOU? You, as a father? Me? At work, mostly. 
But I do admit, that my involvement in the upbringing of our son was not significant. Significant was that of my wife’s father. But he died 5 years ago. And everything went wreck and ruin in our house ever since… 

I asked my son to show how some programs work. He has no time for me. Indeed, he is at work by day. In the evening he comes back homes and either goes away for cycling with his boy friend or for spending time with his girl friend. On Saturday, he gets up early in the morning, gets on his bike, and disappears till deep into midnight. The same on Sunday. Those rare spells of free time which he has are devoted exclusively to his beloved treasure – the "Constipation Car."  In it (I learned by chance) he drives at a speed of 120 km per hour. This disaster of a car (an object of common derision, it costs at best 30 dollars, if that too much), is NOT designed for moving at such a speed. Besides, it’s dangerous even in good cars on bad Russian road. But would he listen? Hell, no! 

The day before  yesterday (I didn’t know about that) he went with his friends on a biking tour. They travel always huge distances, covering 200 and more kilometers. On that bike trip they had a ride on the ice of the Oka river (a large, fast flowing river in the center of Russia). I was shocked when I learned about this from my friend (he knows some boys in that group). It’s an absolute madness. Two years ago, two boys drowned in our pond, a stone’s throw from our house. They came on the ice just for fun, it broke and they sank. The third boy of them clambered out somehow… But two died a horrible and absurd death. I wrote a story about this, not yet translated. I know what it may come to in the end. Told my wife so. She shuddered and exclaimed “Don’t invite ill luck! May your tongue drop off!” 

The big problem is that I say one thing while she is saying another. We look at our son with totally different eyes. I see him impartially, as a man. She is absolutely blind, as a woman and mother. I tell here that it’s a blessing that I have no criminal genes in me and have not handed over any to our son. Otherwise he would have been a criminal. The result of my non-interference and my wife’s permissiveness. I tell my wife that if our son knifes a streetcar full of people her first move will be to grab warm pies and bring them to him in the stir. The boy must not miss HIS supper. She agrees she would. I fly into a rage. And then I can’t control myself. And “fuck you all” then becomes the mildest of the terms I utter. I want to run away, not to see, not to know… But where to? I have no place to go. And I must work hard EVERY day. And thank the Maker for giving me the job and means of livelihood for the entire family. 

The IMPATIENCE and the desire to get what he wants AT ONCE and WITHOUT FAIL, such are his character features. Pleasures, pleasures, and pleasures again. Pleasures to the state of utter exhaustion… Till he can’t get any more of them… What does Father say? Ah, that old fart! He doesn’t know even how to drive.. 

True, I don’t know lots of things. But I know that one must be respectful to ALL, one’s parents in the first place. I also know that one mustn’t think only and exclusively about oneself. 
I must do him justice. His desire to invent things, his passion for fabricating gadgets, his ingeniousness are unique and praiseworthy. Of course he is a cut above me in all those practical things. But it doesn’t tell much. I am good at MY job. I can do what few in Russia can do. And if I were not on the job almost round the clock, I’d be just as good with practical matters. In my boyhood I, too, was clever at making, inventing and contriving things. 

It’s just that I have no time now. My life is flowing in a different channel. But I am not lying on the sofa. I work. And we pay the bill only thanks to me. And we keep our heads above water in our family largely thanks to my working like a horse and getting fatter and fatter for lack of movement and exercise. He does NOT understand and appreciate this. A silly thing. All the money he earns he is putting away for a REAL car. For himself, of course. My telling him that cars are not number 1 thing in life and that it doesn’t matter in what car a man drives but it matters WHERE TO and WHAT FOR, is a voice in the wilderness… 

The split between me and my wife is basically over our son. “You hate him” – she tells me. No, she is wrong. I love him. And I wish him well. I just can’t stand ALL PERMISSIVENESS.  I didn’t have everything I wanted in my life. I haven’t grown up a very bad man. I care for my wife and my family members. I don’t grab for myself. I’m prepared to help my ailing Mom and stay with her. It’s only that staying there while Pa is around is out of the question. There will be a fight immediately...  He just can’t live without fighting. Or cursing anybody… 

So it goes. Have I abused your patience by this confession? 

PS Ah, in the evening I made an effort over myself and made myself go out into the kitchen. In a way I am superstitious. So, not to break the tradition (invites bad luck) I drank two small glasses of vodka. I made him a little present – a leather-bound notebook, a big bottle of garnet juice and 300 rubles (about 10 dollars). I know, he’d rather have all in money, the more the better. For his future car… A car is not and cannot be a value in life. The real values are the security of the house, peace in it, a health for all, caring for one another and desire to help, money to buy things with (food, clothing, etc.), the atmosphere of love and respect, unselfishness (my wife is VERY unselfish, perhaps, to excess). Of course, it would be naive to think that I don't love my son. I do. Not less than my wife.