Agreement with the Enemy - The First Move (8.)

Shortly after the wedding, we had to leave the borrowed nest. The handover of the new apartment was approaching, but there was still almost a year to go. Luckily, my dad was moving to the cottage for the summer, so he was able to lend us his studio apartment. A little one-plus-nothing in Vršovice. We were like sardines there, but every Friday we'd go on a hike or visit my dad, so it was manageable.

And so we traded the view of a romantic little church in the middle of the green and the uplifting sound of the organ for a view of half of the Slávia football field, the jingle of trams, and the roar of cars. From my down-to-earth female point of view, romance was in drag, but there was a tiny fan pub right on the ground floor of the house. It had it, as they say, "on the slippers". What more could a Slavist ask for?

In the first half of the match, we could watch the success rate of one team and in the second half the number of goals scored by the opponent. Of course, it was also important to listen to the spectators' reactions and count the boisterous cries of "Goal" in case of converted chances on the other side of the pitch. From a fan's point of view, probably not much. It was no wonder, therefore, that he went to compensate for this frustration four floors down and one door away.

Still, it was pretty much the most romantic period of our relationship. We were looking forward to the apartment, our daughter was about to start first grade in September, and everything seemed to be going well. Maybe I wanted to believe that everything was turning around for the better. You could say I felt happy in spite of everything. We were enjoying life and he was relatively calm too. I simply didn't see the negatives. As the Ostrava people say, "Because there was no time..."

All the stuff is in boxes. Necessities at home, the rest at Mom's. A bit psycho, but as they say, if you have a system, you can do the impossible. There was no time for heroics or dealing with the "unnecessary". I didn't even realize how slowly she was shaping me into her image. I didn't notice how he was subtly trying to keep me away from my daughter. He was jealous of her. And not just her, actually. Just everything and everyone. He was able to show his displeasure in the style of well-meaning "fatherly" advice, and I foolishly thought that if I just backed off, everything would work out.

Bullshit! It just delays the inevitable. I know. I'm playing smart with a cross on my tongue. I could do that.

I was blinded. I've gotten used to my daughter and I stealing moments to cuddle and talk and play. When he saw us cuddling, he never failed to point out that we were like two lesbians. And so we cuddled when he wasn't home and made up for everything else on tram rides, walks, on the way to and from kindergarten... We were like conspirators.

I loved and protected her, but subconsciously I was always looking for excuses for his behavior. That it would get better with time, that he'd get used to each other, that he'd understand, and that... I'm ashamed of it today. I can't understand how I let myself be manipulated like that. I wanted so much to have a loving family...

There wasn't much comparison from home. My parents were divorced. I was basically raised by my grandmother. She picked me up from school, went to the playground and the park with me, cooked, cleaned and basically did everything around the house. There's no question of any warm feelings for my mother. When she started raising me, it was mostly with a cook. To this day, no one is allowed to come over at Easter with a pom-pom. It gives me an insurmountable case of déjà vu. So I dabbled in it and tried to be a good and loving mom as much as I could.

But you can't be between the millstones for very long. I'm a ram. I'm not much of a quitter. I was a real stickler. I think I deserve to get some kind of award for endurance. But I joined the army, so I tried to fight. Well, to be honest with myself, I was actually more of a strategy of retreating to a pre-prepared position.

Wrong! But I didn't fully realize that until a few years later.  What can I say? Well, I guess:

6. Sorry - I didn't explain strongly enough that marriage is not about flipping the lever from "my girl" to "my property" with your partner. You know, I'm a free-thinking, free-acting human being, and I wanted you to respect that. My child was and is the most precious thing I have. I couldn't explain to you that you're not jealous of children. They just love each other.