Mother was totally against our affair because An worked a long way away, about a thousand kilometres from my house and his family belonged to, in her opinion, a dubious circle of traders.
Aunt then told me that she was in love as well. I was very glad.
“When are you going to get married?” “Never.” Surprised, I looked at her closely. At 30, she was still very attractive. It would be an injustice if such a beautiful woman was not loved by anyone. If only I looked like her or Mother, just a bit, things could have been different for me. Instead, I inherited the brown complexion and slanting eyes from Dad.
“Aunt, tell me about your love, please,” I urged her. She smiled in a vague way for a few seconds, then said: “He is married already, and lives a normal life with his wife and children.” “A married man?” I could hardly breathe. “Nobody can persuade or coerce me into doing anything against my will,” she hastened to add, for fear that I might think badly of the man.
But I was not going to keep silent. “He loves you, but doesn’t leave his wife, does he? Bastard.” She kept her head down for a few minutes and then said: “Maybe it’s his cowardice that makes me love him. Sometimes, love and sympathy are two sides of an issue, and sometimes they’re different. For me, what I’m badly in need of is love and that will do.”
I felt bitter. I was both angry and sympathetic. Usually, she was a practical woman, but now she had become so credulous and romantic.