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Imi was born and raised in Europe, Hungary. After finishing his school years, he moved to Canada to search for a better life. He lived in Toronto for 13 years and currently resides in Vancouver. He is a romantic at heart with a strong desire to always do the right thing. He would like to give hope to the Chinese and Asian ladies with his story and send a message that love eventually finds everybody.
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Moments of Our Relationship - Meeting her Mother    

By Imi
1171 Views | 3 Comments | 10/26/2016 2:00:32 PM

 

“Imi, you are cold,” Janessa said as she touched my hand in her sister's car. Janessa, her son, both of her sisters, and I left the underground garage and were on the way to meet Janessa's mother at her workplace. The typhoon somewhat drained its power, but it still rained heavily. I watched the raindrops make horizontal lines on the side window as the car sped toward our destination and smiled at her statement. “I'll tell my sister to put the heater on.”

 

“Okay, I don't mind.” I agreed even though I figured it was too late to put any heating on. Sitting for almost an hour in wet clothes under a huge air conditioner in a restaurant could do nothing but make me sick.

 

The car didn't go far. In less than ten minutes, we stopped on a deserted side road. As we all got out of the car, I saw a woman stepping into the shaft of light from the darkness of a building. There were two huge umbrellas in her hands as she hastily started to come toward us. Janessa stepped forward and greeted her. With overwhelming joy writ large on their faces, they began to speak all at once. By how the woman's eyes sparkled with emotions, I guessed, it was Janessa's mother. When they stopped talking, her mother looked at me. The sparks in her eyes were immediately put out by the shroud of a disturbingly scrutinizing look. Her smile was still there, but it was lifeless, like the smile of a plasticine figure. Janessa introduced us to each other, and we shook hands—the warmth of her hand applied a very thin layer of salve on my throbbing discomfort. When she let go of my hand, without saying a word, she grabbed the small umbrella from me, said something to Janessa in a scolding tone and thrust one of her large umbrellas into my hand. She then pulled Janessa by her hand and headed for an open door in a nearby building.

 

“Imi, come with us!” Janessa said, looking back at me over her shoulder.

 

I caught up with them in the lobby of the nursing home. All three sisters, John, and Janessa's mother stood at the bottom of a staircase that must have led to the residencies. We didn't go upstairs. The entire five minutes that was supposed to be the meeting with her mother had been spent in that small lobby full of umbrellas looking like colorful, freshly sprung mushrooms on the forest floor. While they talked, I quietly tried to read some information off their faces. Needless to say, I was unsuccessful at it.

 

At the end of the meeting, John, Janessa's son, started to pester his grandma who, eventually, relented and gave a hundred Yuan bill to him. Then, she pulled another hundred Yuan bill out of her pocket and held it out for me to take. I signaled a no with my hand and didn't take it. Utterly lacking the ability to grasp the situation mentally, I glanced at Janessa, looking for an explanation. Janessa's expression told me she didn't understand, either, what her mother was trying to do. Bemused, Janessa only said her mother was busy, and we needed to go. And with that, she ended the rather unusual meeting.

 

We went back to the restaurant where Janessa's brother and father waited for us. We said goodbye to one of Janessa's sisters, and the six of us crammed into Janessa's brother's car and headed back to Yangchun.

 

On the way back, Janessa, again, sat on my lap. Although this time, there were no dirty thoughts on my mind. It was rather occupied with the unusual meeting with Janessa's mother. A solid darkness stared back at me from outside as I was looking out the side window. At times, I got a glimpse of my troubled eyes in the glass as cars passed us by. Janessa's mother had shaken my hand again when we had said goodbye, but she had still had the same fictive smile on her face just as when she had said hi to me. Her eyes were unsmiling, and coldness prevailed her farewell, adding to the chill that I was feeling inside. I wanted to ask Janessa about what had happened back there, but the way the meeting had ended, I had this feeling that might be a delicate subject to broach. I didn't think Janessa's mother liked me, or if she would ever at all. Uneasy with these ruminations, I kept quiet in the back.

 

“Are you okay?” Janessa asked as if reading my unsettled mind.

 

“Yes, I am,” I answered without taking my eyes off the darkness outside.

 

A minute or two went by, maybe more, in absolute silence. Everybody was tired and seemed to doze off. Janessa's brother was driving, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Over the constant, monotonous hum of the tires on the wet pavement, I heard Janessa say in a small voice, “I'm sorry. My mother is a bitter woman.”

 

Not knowing how to respond to that, Janessa's statement had hung between us for a few strained seconds before it slipped away into the darkness without a response from me. It wasn't long before her voice would permeate the awkward silence with its cute Chinese accent again, not letting my confusion about her remark take root in my confused mind.

 

“My mother got married when she was only seventeen. My father was twenty-eight at that time. At eighteen, she had my eldest sister. And by the time she had turned twenty-seven, she'd already had four children. Despite my deep respect for my father, I have to say my mother didn't have an easy life beside him. She worked in a factory, tried to keep a warm and clean home for us and raise us the best she could. My mother had gradually burned out, I guess, like a cinder in an unattended fireplace. She didn't live. She got married very young. She didn't know who she was. She didn't know who she could have become. The only thing she knew was that she couldn't go on like that, neglected, living with a man she had never loved.”

 

I was still staring out the window as I was listening to her, and I began to see my mother's image in it as a reflection instead of mine. Janessa was talking about her mother, my mother, and the millions of mistreated mothers and wives out there in the world, choking up with their unspoken words, day and night.

 

“The fights had become daily,” Janessa continued. “First, in words. Then very soon, they had escalated into beatings, throwing furniture, and breaking things. I had heard my mother sometimes cry in the bedroom, behind closed doors. I had listened to her from the other side. But I had done nothing. I was young—too young—to understand. A few times, I'd reached for the door handle, but I just didn't have the courage to open the door. One day, however, I caught my mother crying in the kitchen. Only then did I have the nerve to ask why she was crying. She said, 'It's nothing.' Shortly after she said that, she left. I thought that nothing must have been a very powerful thing if it could take my mother from me.

 

Janessa took a break and stared out the window. Her eyes were filled with tears by the memories of her past. I didn't say anything. I let her collect herself. Before long, she went on.

 

“I was only eight years old. I still needed her. I had begun to hate her for leaving us. I didn't have a good relationship with her for years—up until the day I found myself crying in my own bedroom too, realizing that I didn't love my husband. That was when I started to understand my mother. We had a long, meaningful conversation, woman to woman. She gave me her advice, but I was afraid to follow through on it. It took me years to muster all my courage and get a divorce. When I told her about you, surprisingly, after letting me grow up without her, she was very protective of me. She said to me, 'You could find a nice man in China.' My answer was 'No. Chinese men are only nice for a few years, then they change.' I told her I loved you and trusted you. You were different from all the other men I'd met before. Reluctantly, she had accepted my decision. She's just afraid you would change, too, in the future, and I'm going to be left alone in Canada without a family.”

 

By the time Janessa had finished talking, my fingers had been playing with her long hair, trying to express my sympathy. She turned her head and looked at me. There was a fair amount of sorrow in her eyes to make me forget about my worries and start to think about her instead.

 

“I know she likes you; she just doesn't trust men anymore, and you're a man,” Janessa concluded.

 

I nodded. “I don't need to prove anything to your mother. I will show what kind of a man I am only to you. When she sees you happy with me, she'll change her mind about me.”

 

“I know I'm gonna be happy with you, Imi,” she said and then whispered into my ear, “I love you, very much.”

 

“How much?”

 

“Very, very much.”

 

“I don't believe you. I'm afraid I need some proof of that,” I whispered back.

 

“How?”

 

“Tonight, in the hotel.”

 

“You're a bad man,” she said as her eyes narrowed and looked at me. “You keep thinking about sex.”

 

“Yes, I am. I am a bad man, and I keep thinking about sex just because you're a beautiful and sexy woman,” I sighed the words into her ear, already picturing her naked body in my head.

 

“You love me just because I'm sexy?”

 

“Well, my answer has to be yes and no. I love looking at the package, but I adore more what's inside. If a beautifully wrapped package doesn't have any contents, it would only appear to my eyes as an ordinary cardboard box. I'm old enough now to reveal the emptiness of a nicely wrapped package without even having the urge to open it and look inside.”

 

Janessa didn't reply. She only started to shake her head as if disapproving of something. Then, she fidgeted herself into a more comfortable position on my lap to have a better feel of the battle raging in my pants, bringing in fresh recruits, ready to fight anew.

 

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(Showing 1 to 3 of 3) 1
#2016-10-26 14:00:13 by JohnAbbot @JohnAbbot

I am watching and listening to Janessa through your eyes and ears, Imi, and through your words, and I am getting a sense of a woman of great depth. Her descriptions of her childhood, of her family relationships and her feelings about and for you, seem to me to reveal someone both intelligent and wise. The nice package you describe will make the first few years of a marriage very pleasurable, but the intelligence and wisdom she brings to your relationship is what can make a marriage last a lifetime. I really think you are likely to never stop falling in love with this woman, and that is one of life's gifts that few men receive. I hope I am right, and I hope you never fail to treasure that gift.

#2016-10-26 19:40:09 by melcyan @melcyan

Imi, you and Janessa appear to be communicating well. That is a very good sign  for the success of your relationship.  However, you are both from dysfunctional families. This means  your will have to work harder than most to make your relationship successful.

 

Deal with problems  as soon as they arise  and continue to build your communication skills to the highest level possible. I wish you two all the best. 

#2016-10-29 23:16:39 by anonymous15640 @anonymous15640

Imi, interesting in how the mother has let her past control her present. I can't help but shiver and shake thinking of how uncomfortable you must have been when you were soaked to the skin for so long...I truly hope you did not get a cold or a fever afterwards.

If the way you describe your Janessa is accurate then I will tell you man to man you are extremely fortunate man. There are not many woman in this world as open and honest as Janessa sounds, it seems you have found a "real woman"  honest, loving, caring, faithful, has deep compassion and high personal integrity. 

Looking forward o the next episode (y)

 

"by the Lords of Cobalt"

 

Cheers....

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