She Hated Me Because I Wouldn't Hate Her

Her boyfriend falling in love with me was the last link that held back her devilish hatred.

Eva and I were friends from the first day in college. For seven years, we were spending hours together, talking in person and on the phone. She was a year older and had an air of superiority about her. Now I know I felt some patronage chord in her attitude towards me. A simple village girl, I was shy and sensitive to every misfortune and any offender - easy prey for a person in need of dominance.

Our decision to live together was an odious ordeal destined for a devastating failure. I realized much later the reasons for Eva's abusive ignorance and suppressive silence at that time. I'm not sure if her unfortunate love affair with a man from the States whom she met on a dating website was one of them. Their love story started when my love story ended. I got married early and admitting this mistake changed me drastically.

Eva and her man exchanged many beautiful letters; she wanted me to read them all. I was happy with her happiness. Those loving vibes were the only bright emotions at that difficult time in my life. When he came to Minsk for two weeks, they rented a fashionable flat and had a beautiful, as I thought at the time, fortnight together. I lunched with them once. My father took us all on a ride to our village house. A quiet dinner and a stroll around the rural sights followed it. Eva's American boyfriend left, and as far as I knew, they continued close communication, planning their future together. Eva returned to our shared apartment in silence.

I couldn't pretend anymore not to understand when I finally understood perfectly well the reasons for that change in Eva. She intended her sudden reserve and complete disregard to be abusive, but it looked pathetic. In the early days of our friendship, I was a fool, too frank and devoted to Eva to think her so stupidly jealous. To know her was, I believe, an education.

I was a sincere, gentle girl. Eva was a city diva. I never considered myself beautiful, only good-looking. Eva carried herself as if admiration was a common thing she pocketed every day. I think my splendid stupidity in not aiming at the same effect maddened her. I admired her as I admired a good book, educational, and entertaining. But I couldn't be got to envying beauty. And this beauty wanted to be envied.

Eva favored my friendship only to look superior to my somewhat shabby outfit. She saw me as a dependant - to make me feel a failure. I didn't feel it. I never thought that frugal life is something I should be ashamed of. After seven years of it, I didn't turn a hair. Eva calculated that the harsh separation I was living through was her last chance to see my ruin, and she offered to live together. I regret only that this one year washed out even the briefest memory of our happier moments. By that time, she was a monomaniac with her hatred throttling everything good still left in her.

The crisis she planned was this long-awaited meeting with her man. Eva offered that country drive with my dad to my homely place to show the contrast between us to this handsome American. Too late, she realized her miscalculation. The honored and mature boyfriend of hers spent many years in Afghanistan building schools and universities, helping the ones in need. My now-dead father, with no knowledge of English, became his best friend. My mother's hospitality made his eyes water. On leaving our cozy little cottage, he gave my father a handmade prayer rosary he always carried in his breast pocket.

I still don't know if I was the reason for their relationship to end. I'm almost positive he, being a gentleman, never as much as mentioned my name to her. Eva's silence, as a recurring punishment for his coldness, most likely had drifted them apart.

I divorced my husband and moved to the United States. One day, I found myself reading a love letter from Eva's man. It was a complete surprise, and I hope my response, full of respect, gratitude, and gentle rejection, didn't cause too much pain to this beautiful person.