Ugly Girl
Copyright© 2026 by Han Jansz. van Meegeren
10. Happy Birthday To You
In two days it was Jutta’s 45th birthday. I called Sandor from the train from London.
“Are you celebrating Jutta’s birthday?” I asked Sandor.
“Uh ... Birthday?”
“She will be 45 on Thursday.”
“OMG.”
I grinned. “It’s a good thing I called you, I think.”
“Shit, what should I give her?” Utter panic on the other side of the phone.
“Ask your mother.”
“Good thinking. Can you pass the phone to my mother, please?”
“She has her own phone, Sandor. We share a bed but not our phones”, I smiled and hung up.
“Mom?”
“Good afternoon, son. We are on board of the Eurostar train, and you are on speakerphone.”
“Shit.”
“Not a good start. Try again.”
“Can you please turn off the speaker? I need to talk to you privately.”
“Sorry, can’t do.”
A few laughs from people on the train, listening in.
“I have only one day to buy her a present, Mom. You know her well; what does she like?”
“Something thoughtful.” Sylvia said drily.
“Yeah, that helps. Thanks.”
Sylvia muted the speaker and lowered her voice so I was the only one who could hear what she said, and only because she leaned on my shoulder.
“Mark her, Sandor. Mark her as yours. Take her to a good tattoo parlour. Put your mark on your own girl first, and then at the exact same place, mark her mother. It will give her reassurance that she is yours now forever.”
“It’s so permanent — a tattoo.”
“In that case, I guess the question should be: Do you want to keep her, or sell her off to another master?”
“Of course I want to keep her. She’s Ilse’s mother.”
“If Ilse were gone tomorrow, would you still keep her mother? [... ] That silence is too long, Sandor. If I were you, I would think about it fast and hard. Only if your heart is behind this, mark her as yours. Don’t give her false hope if you are not sure. And if you do not mark her, buy her one of those crappy ankle bracelets. She likes those.”
We were silent for a while. Other people were not. A train these days is a giant buzz of too much personal information. It’s incredible what people will share about their personal lives in a public space. Sylvia’s head, half asleep, rolled over to my shoulder, leaning on it with a contented sigh.
I caressed her bald head. “Sylvia?”
“Hmm?”
“I want you to stop shaving your head and let your hair grow to a normal length.”
She was awake instantly. “What? No!” Now we had disturbed all those people on their phones.
“Oh yes, you will.” I whispered. “I don’t like that bald head of yours. Never did.”
“But, mistress, you can’t. I promised Master Koen I would keep it bald until the day I die. Not only did I promise Master Koen, but it was the explicit wish of Mistress Jutta.” Sylvia was in near-panic mode.
“Master Koen is no longer with us, and Mistress Jutta is now the property of Sandor, and about the be marked by your son as his slave. On your recommendation, I might add. And as you love so much calling me Mistress, I believe it is my right to give you orders. Am I right?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“So what do you say if I want you to grow your hair back?”
“I will do it, Mistress.”
“What is the common phrase again?”
“Good Girl, Mistress.”
“Good Girl, Sylvia.”
A Dutch birthday is a cosy event, and to make sure nobody is left out, we all sit in a circle. As Jutta’s family was living abroad, Sylvia and I were the only guests. Ilse was very surprised that we congratulated her on her mother’s birthday. Welcome to Holland, girl. The entire atmosphere was tense. Jutta and her daughter were clearly nervous. Sandor was wandering to the kitchen and back, and Sylvia did not seem to feel at home. They had completely transformed the interior of her living room. Modern, Minimalistic. Ugly.
I walked to Sandor in the kitchen. And that means: we walked to Sandor in the kitchen. To his surprise, I hugged him tight and did not let go after what was considered a polite embrace. I pressed my body even harder against his.
“Sandor”, I murmured, “We all miss him. Even I miss him. And he messed up all our lives with his last wishes. It’s not a walk in the park to have your mother-in-law moving into your house, into your life. I have no experience with this bizarre lifestyle of yours. But I have been around you guys long enough that nothing surprises me anymore. I can feel I am disrupting things just by my presence. I realise I have scolded you for acting out your way of life in my presence. My apologies; I know I shouldn’t have done that. It’s time I stopped being an outsider. Please act tonight as if I weren’t here and be yourselves.”
He turned to me with a spark in his eyes. “Do you really mean that?”
“How many times have you heard me say something I didn’t mean?” I smirked.
“Oh, this is going to be so much fun tonight.” I doubted that. But I was the outsider, the weird one here. Not them. It would be selfish of me to be a spoilsport at this party. We walked back to the living room. The avid tweeters were all engrossed in their phones, posting their memes.
“Please give all these phones to me. Yes, yours as well, Mother. I promise you will get them all back at the end of the evening. We are going to do something old-fashioned today: we are going to talk. Isn’t that nice?”
“That would indeed be an improvement, Sandor,” I said. “Sylvia, why don’t you give a quick recap of what happened since we left London?”
“We started getting the things we need in England into a container that will be shipped overseas.” Sylvia started. I interrupted.
“No, begin a bit before that. What was the discussion we had on the train about your hair?”
“Well, Mistress Zuzanna told me I had no choice but to let my hair grow.”
Again, I interrupted, looking Jutta straight in her eyes. “I know this is against your wishes. But she is not yours any longer. She is mine, and I will do with her as I see fit. I don’t like that bald head of hers, so I ordered to stop shaving her head. Can I assume that you’re fine with this?” I asked, perhaps a bit too challenging?
Jutta lowered her eyes. “Yes. Mistress Zuzanna. I have no say over Girl any longer. If you want her hair to grow, that is your prerogative.”
“Thank you, Jutta. I know this is a hard time for all of us to adjust. But we have to establish new rules of conduct. First, I am not Mistress Zuzanna, but just Zuzanna or Zuz. Sylvia stubbornly keeps calling me Mistress even though I have asked her not to a thousand times. I am afraid I will have to get used to it, but that does not apply to you. Just call me by my name, please. I would appreciate it if you would call Sylvia by her name as well, instead of Girl. Perhaps in the future she shall have another nickname, but for now I would prefer if you just call her name. Sylvia, why don’t you continue?”
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