I can cancel the ticket, we’ll get the money back.
— What? — he even put down his fork. — Anya, we’ve discussed everything. You’re going on vacation. It’s decided.
There was such a finality in his tone that Anna didn’t argue anymore. She finished her potatoes, cleared the table, and washed the dishes. Igor went to his room and turned on the computer. Through the half-open door, she saw him sitting, staring at the screen, typing something. Then he spoke on the phone in a low voice, but she couldn’t make out the words, only fragments of phrases: “Tomorrow morning…”, “Yes, everything is ready…”, “Don’t worry…”.
In the evening, she checked her suitcase one more time, put her documents in her handbag, along with the 30,000 rubles Igor had given her for expenses. Passport, ticket, insurance. She fully charged her phone. Everything was ready. She went to bed early, but again, she couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, listening as Igor moved about in the kitchen, then in the bathroom. Finally, he lay down next to her and started snoring a few minutes later. She lay with her eyes open, thinking that at this time tomorrow she would be on a plane, flying above the clouds to a foreign country. Alone. Completely alone.
In the morning, they left at eight as planned. Igor loaded the suitcase into the trunk himself and helped Anna into the front seat. On the way, he was quiet, turned on the radio, and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music. Anna looked out the window at the passing houses, shops, and bus stops. The city was waking up, people were hurrying to work, taking children to school. A normal weekday life.
Traffic jams on the way to the airport delayed them by about fifteen minutes. Igor grew nervous, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, changing radio stations.
— We’ll make it, don’t worry, — said Anna.
— I’m not worried. I just don’t like to be late.
Finally, they arrived at the terminal. Igor braked sharply at the curb, jumped out of the car, and unloaded the suitcase.
— Well, that’s it. Check-in is over there, — he nodded towards the counters. — Call me when you land.
— Igor, maybe you could come in, see me off? — Anna asked.
— I can’t, I have a meeting at ten, I’m already late. Anya, you’re a grown woman, you’ll manage. Have a good rest, okay?
He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, turned, and walked back to the car. Anna stood with her suitcase by the entrance, watching him get into the car, start the engine, and drive away without even looking back. Something tightened inside her, an unpleasant premonition, but she pushed it away. She took her suitcase and went into the terminal.
Inside, it was noisy and crowded. The flight board was flashing, a boarding call for another flight was announced. People stood in lines at the check-in counters, dragging suitcases, looking at their phones. The smells of coffee from cafes, perfume from duty-free, and some chemical from cleaning agents all mixed into one airport aroma.
Anna got in the check-in line and showed her ticket and passport to a sleepy-looking girl at the counter. The girl entered the data, printed the boarding pass, and attached a tag to the suitcase.
— Boarding at gate 12, starts in an hour and a half. You’ll get your luggage in Antalya, — the girl said mechanically and called the next passenger.
Anna took the boarding pass and tucked it into her handbag. The suitcase disappeared on the conveyor belt into the airport’s depths. No turning back now, she thought. Well, there was, but it would look foolish: to come home two hours after leaving, explaining to her husband that she had changed her mind. No, since she had started, she had to see it through.
She went through security, took off her belt, removed her phone and tablet from her bag, and walked through the metal detector. The guard nodded indifferently, allowing her to pass. She gathered her things and walked down the long corridor to the boarding gates. People with bags bustled around, children ran ahead of their parents, and a boarding announcement for a flight was made somewhere.
Anna bought a coffee from a vending machine and sat on a bench near gate 12. She took out her phone, wanting to call her daughter Katya to tell her she was flying off on vacation, but then changed her mind. Why bother her? Katya had her own life, her own things to do. Little Nikita, her grandson, was probably at kindergarten now. Katya was at work at the bank. Her husband, Vitaly, was also working. She would just send her a message later, when she landed.
She watched the people around her. A young couple with a baby in a stroller — the parents looked tired but happy. The mother was rocking the baby, the father was busy with the luggage. An elderly man in a hat was reading a newspaper, slowly turning the pages. A group of noisy students were discussing something, laughing. A girl of about twenty sat opposite with headphones on, tapping her foot to the music.
Life went on, everyone had their joys, their problems, their stories. And what about her? Anna finished her coffee and crushed the cup. She was 50, half her life was over, and what could she say about herself? A job at the library that had long become routine. Two grown children who lived their own lives and barely needed her. A husband who had turned into a roommate. She had almost no friends left: some had moved away, others were consumed by their own worries, and they rarely communicated. She once had a close friend, Lena; they had studied together, and their families were friends. But five years ago, Lena and her husband moved to be with their daughter; they exchanged messages sometimes, but it wasn’t the same.
Maybe this vacation was really necessary? Maybe two weeks of solitude by the sea would help her figure herself out, to understand what she wanted from the rest of her life? Fifty wasn’t old yet. Maybe it was time to change something, before it was too late?
Finally, boarding for her flight was announced. Anna stood up, grabbed her bag, and went to the gate. People were already gathering at the counter, holding out their boarding passes. She got in line, took her pass from her bag pocket. Flight to Antalya, window seat, just as she had requested at check-in. In a few more minutes, she would be on the plane, flying to another country for two weeks, leaving this familiar life behind.
The line moved slowly. An airline employee checked the passes, smiled at passengers, and wished them a pleasant flight. Anna had almost reached the counter, with only three people ahead of her, when an elderly woman in a blue cleaner’s uniform appeared from the side. The woman was about 65, maybe a little older. Her face was tired, etched with wrinkles, but her eyes were lively and attentive. She held a cloth and a bucket, and a name tag “Valentina Ivanovna” hung on her chest. She stopped next to Anna and looked at her intently.
— Excuse me, miss… I mean, dearie… — her voice was hoarse but insistent.
Anna turned around, surprised to be addressed right now, as the line was moving and she was about to board.
— Yes? Do you need something?
— Dearie, are you by any chance Anna Petrovna? Kravchenko?
Anna froze. How did this cleaning lady know her name? She nodded in bewilderment.
— Yes, I am.
— How did you…
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