he asked quietly while Vitalik was counting stacks of money in the meeting room. “This apartment has history, you can tell. It’s a shame to give it up.”
“I’m sure,” I lied. “I want to be closer to nature. Old age, you know.”
Vitalik was beaming. He looked like a cat that had not just eaten the cream, but had fallen into a vat of it.
“That’s it, old man!” he clapped me on the shoulder as we left the bank with the heavy bag. “Now we’ll live. Now we’re kings.”
We went to their place, to that one-room apartment in Troieshchyna. I walked into the apartment, and it hit me. The smell. The smell of someone else’s uncomfortable life. Shoes were scattered in the hallway, a pile of jackets on the coat rack, a cat litter box in the corner that hadn’t been cleaned in a long time.
“Well, make yourself at home!” Vitalik gestured grandly towards the kitchen. “Here are your chambers. I’ve unfolded the chair, the sleeping bag is there, a pillow. It’s fine, like camping.”
He carried the bag of money into the room and closed the door. I was left in the six-square-meter kitchen. I sat on the edge of the old, sagging recliner.
Outside the window, the avenue roared, an endless stream of lights. On the table was a dirty mug with a dried coffee ring. I suddenly felt physically how my life had shrunk to the size of this chair. I had no corner of my own, no closet of my own. My things, a couple of suitcases, stood in the hallway, blocking the way.
“You should move the suitcases to the balcony!” Vitalik yelled from the room. “We’re tripping over them!”
I got up and obediently dragged the suitcases to the balcony. It was cold and damp there. Old tires, paint cans, broken skis were lying around. Now my life lay there too.
That same evening, I overheard their conversation. The walls in panel buildings are as thin as paper.
“Vitaly, why cash?” Nadya whispered. Her voice was frightened. “It’s dangerous! Keeping ten million at home!”
“You’re a fool, Nadyka!” Vitalik’s voice was drunk and domineering. “What danger? The safe is reliable, I had it custom-made. And in the bank, it would have been flagged. Times are murky now, a digital concentration camp. But cash is freedom. Tomorrow I’ll start registering the land. A plot in Koncha-Zaspa, can you imagine? The guy is desperate, he needs to get out of the country. Selling it for a song. We’ll flip that plot in a month for three times the price.”
“And Dad?” Nadya asked quietly. “You promised him an apartment.”
“Promises are made to be broken,” Vitalik chuckled. “The old man will manage, how much does he need? A bowl of soup and a TV. He should be glad he’s not in a nursing home yet. Although, I’ve been looking into it, there are options…”
It was as if I had been scalded with boiling water. I lay on the chair, covered with a prickly blanket, and bit my lips to keep from screaming. So that’s how it was. So there was no new building. There was no “together.” There was a plan. A plan for disposing of an old man.
I got up, went to the window. The tenth floor. Below, the blackness of the courtyard. I had a thought to open the window and step out. Just step out and end this farce. Galya would meet me there, she would scold me, of course, for my weakness.
But then Nadya came into the kitchen. She was in a nightgown, barefoot, her hair disheveled. She saw me standing by the window and froze. In the light of the streetlamp, I saw her face. It didn’t have the indifference she showed in front of her husband. It was filled with anguish. She came close to me, took my hands in hers. Her palms were icy. She looked at the door to the room, made sure it was closed, and pressed her lips to my ear.
“Dad!” she whispered, barely audible. “Hang in there. Please, hang in there. I’ll think of something. I swear to you. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Nadya!” I looked into her eyes. “Did you know?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, and tears streamed down her cheeks.
“I didn’t know about the land. I thought he really wanted to buy an apartment. He confused me, Dad. He’s a terrible person. I’m afraid of him.”
At that moment, the door to the room flew open. Vitalik stood on the threshold. In his underwear, with a can of beer in his hand.
“What are you whispering about?” he barked. “Plotting a conspiracy?”
Nadya instantly pulled away from me, wiped her tears, her face becoming a mask.
“I was going to get Dad a glass of water,” she said in a flat, lifeless voice. “His blood pressure is high.”
“Blood pressure!” Vitalik mocked. “Take your pills, old man. And go to bed. Tomorrow is a big day. We’re going to see the land. I’ll take you so you don’t think I’m screwing you over. We’ll register it in your name, since you’re so suspicious.”
He was lying. I could see it in his eyes. But I nodded.
“Okay, Vitaly. Good night.”
The next day we went to see the land. It was a wasteland beyond the Ring Road, littered with garbage, next to a power line.
“Here!” Vitalik swept his arm across the post-apocalyptic landscape. “Potential! There will be a metro here soon. Prices will skyrocket.”
I looked at the rusted hulks of cars, the dirty snow, the power lines humming overhead. This was a grave. My grave…
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