“Shut up,” the husband barked, throwing the suitcase onto the floor. “I’m leaving you and this swamp you call a life.”
“Swamp?” Marina slowly turned away from the stove, where potatoes sizzled for dinner.
“This ‘swamp’ fed your mother for twenty years while she was running from doctor to doctor. Did you forget?”
“What does my mother have to do with this? Don’t you dare touch her!”
“Oh, it has everything to do with it, Vitya. While you were ‘handling big business’ in the capital, I was here taking care of your paralyzed mother. Changing her diapers, in case you forgot.”
Vitya stood in the doorway of their two-room Khrushchyovka, in a new suit, suitcase at his feet. Marina hadn’t seen him look so handsome in a long time — fit, tanned, smelling of expensive cologne. Not like before, when he’d come home from the factory covered in machine oil.
She remembered how they met. Dancing at the factory club, he — a young mechanic, she — from accounting. He spun her around to “A Million Scarlet Roses,” whispering silly things into her ear. Then a modest wedding, about thirty guests, Olivier salad and “Soviet Champagne.” His mother cried from happiness, hugging Marina: “Thank you, dear, for taming my Vitenka.”
Tamed. Twenty-two years they lived together. Raised a daughter, Lenka. Now studying in medical school, living off her scholarship and Marina’s side jobs. Vitya hadn’t given money for the last three years — he invested everything into his “business.” What business — Marina never understood. First he wanted to open a car repair shop, then he was doing cargo transport. Everything went bust.
“You just don’t understand,” Vitya lit a cigarette nervously right in the hallway. “Sergey offered me a move to Moscow. He’s got a chain of car washes there. He’ll take me on as manager. He’ll rent an apartment for me at first.”
“You’re going alone?” Marina wiped her hands on her apron. Her hands were shaking, but her voice was steady.
“Not alone.” Vitya looked away. “With Alena. She… she understands me. Believes in me.”
Alena. Marina had known about her for about three months. Saw their messages when Vitya was showering. “Kitten,” “bunny,” “I miss you.” Twenty-eight-year-old “kitten.” A manager at the dealership where Vitya had been “looking at cars.” On credit, by the way — a credit Marina was still paying off from her teacher’s salary.
“And what about Lenka?” Marina asked. “Your daughter. She graduates next year.”
“She’s grown up, she’ll understand. I can’t live like this anymore. I’m forty-five, Marina. I’m still young, I can still change everything.”
Marina walked to the window. In the yard, their neighbor Zinaida was hanging laundry. She saw Marina at the window and waved. Zinaida knew everything. She knew about Alena, knew Vitya had been coming home only to sleep the last six months. She pitied Marina, brought pies: “Hold on, Marinka.”
“Do you remember,” Marina said quietly, “when Lenka got sick at five? Pneumonia, the doctors didn’t know what to do. You worked day and night to pay for medicines. And I sat by her bed around the clock. You said then, ‘We’re a family, Marina. We’ll get through everything together.’”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Only fifteen years. Or when your mother had a stroke? Who dragged her through hospitals? Who stayed up all night, turning her every two hours so she wouldn’t get bedsores? Me, Vitya. And you made excuses — work, business. What business? You’d already started chasing your fortune then.”
Vitya stubbed his cigarette out on the windowsill. Marina winced — they’d put in that new sill just last month. She saved up for it herself.
“You always remember the bad,” he snapped. “Only negativity. And the good? What about the time I took you to the seaside?”
“Ten years ago. To Anapa. For one week.”
“Nothing is ever enough for you!”
Marina turned to him. Tears were in her eyes, but she held them back. He wouldn’t get the satisfaction.
“You know what, Vitya? Go. Go to your Alena. But let me tell you something. I cared for your mother until the end. Two years she lay here. I fed her from a spoon, bathed her, gave her medicine. And where were you? Working? Doing what, Vitya? You haven’t had a real job in five years. You just kept dreaming of getting rich.”
“I tried! I did it for the family!”
“For the family?” Marina laughed bitterly. “Lenka works night shifts as a nurse to pay for textbooks. Because her father decided he was a businessman. I took two teaching positions and tutoring on top. Who exactly were you doing all this for?”
Vitya stayed silent, gripping the suitcase handle.
“And you know what’s funniest?” Marina went on. “Your mother, before she died, said to me: ‘Forgive him, dear. He’s weak. Always has been. Thank you for putting up with him.’ I didn’t understand then. Now I do.”
“Don’t you dare!” Vitya exploded. “Don’t you dare call me weak! I’m suffocating here! In this apartment, in this city, with you! You’ll bury me with your righteousness!”
“My righteousness?” Marina suddenly laughed — dry, sharp. “I’ve spent years doing nothing but keeping quiet. Quiet when you came home drunk. Quiet when money disappeared ‘for another project.’ Quiet when you smelled like someone else’s perfume. I thought — he’ll grow up, come to his senses. It’s a family, after all.”
She walked to the cabinet and took out a folder. Vitya tensed.
“What’s that?”
“Divorce papers. Prepared them a month ago. I was waiting for you to decide. Or for me to. But you were first — good job. Sign.”
Vitya stared at the papers in shock.
“You… you knew?”
“I’m not stupid, Vitya. I was just giving you a chance. And giving myself a chance — in case I was wrong. I wasn’t.”
“The apartment…” he began.
“The apartment is mine. It was in my mother’s name, and I inherited it. You’re registered here, but you have no rights to it. You can try court, but here’s the thing — you haven’t had official employment in three years. You will pay alimony for Lenka?”
“She’s an adult…”
“A full-time student. Support is required until graduation. Article 85 of the Family Code, if you’re curious.”
Vitya grabbed the pen and scribbled his signature furiously. He threw the folder onto the table.
“Happy now? Twenty-two years down the drain?…”
Marina looked at him carefully. Gray at his temples, wrinkles by his eyes. Once, he had been the man she loved. Once, her closest person.
And now — a stranger. Completely, utterly a stranger.
“It didn’t all go to waste, Vitya. We have a wonderful daughter. Smart, kind, hardworking. Takes after me,” she smiled sadly. “And thank you for the years we had. There were good moments, too. You just veered off somewhere. Or maybe you were always like this, and I never saw it.”
Vitya lifted the suitcase. Stood in the doorway for a moment.
“You’ll regret this. You’ll end up alone.”
“I won’t. I have Lenka. My job. Friends. And you know what? I’m finally going to sign up for dance classes. I always dreamed of learning tango. You used to laugh — said cows aren’t meant for tango. We’ll see.”
Vitya slammed the door. Marina stood in the silence, then went to the kitchen. The potatoes had burned. She dumped the pan into the sink and opened the window to air out the kitchen.
Her phone rang. Lenka.
“Mom, are you okay? Zinaida Petrovna called — she said Dad left with a suitcase.”
“I’m fine, honey. Are you coming for dinner?”
“Mom… are you crying?”
“No,” Marina wasn’t crying at all. “I’m cutting onions. Making salad.”
“I’m coming right now. I’ll come straight after my shift.”
“No, Len. You have an exam tomorrow.”
“Mom, don’t be silly. I’m already on my way. And Mom… I love you. You’re the strongest person I know.”
Marina hung up. She took a bottle of wine from the fridge — a Teacher’s Day gift she’d been saving for a special occasion. She poured half a glass and raised it toward the window, where the sunset painted the rooftops gold.
“To a new life,” she whispered.
Outside, a taxi door slammed. Vitya was loading his suitcase, and a young blonde leaned out from the back seat, waving at him. Alena. Marina had seen her a couple of times near the dealership — nothing special. Just young.
Zinaida shouted from below:
“Marinka! I’m bringing you a pie! With cabbage, just how you like it!”
Marina smiled. For the first time in months, she smiled sincerely. Divorce papers still lay on the table, and beside them — the set of keys Vitya had left. She picked them up, weighed them in her palm.
Tomorrow she would change the locks. And sign up for tango lessons. And maybe go to the hairdresser — she’d wanted a bob cut for ages.
But tonight she would drink wine with Zinaida, eat pie, and not think about what lay ahead. Because what lay ahead was life. Her life. Without looking back at the one who betrayed her.
The phone rang again. Unknown number.
“Marina Sergeyevna? This is the dean’s office at the medical university. Your daughter has been nominated for a named scholarship. Congratulations! Lena is our pride!”
Marina finally cried. But these were good tears.
