“What?” Olga turned around. “Igor, how will I be without a phone?”
“Buy yourself one with your own hard-earned money. Since you’re so independent.”
She silently placed the phone next to the card. The most necessary things were already in the bag. Olga put on her raincoat and picked up the bag.
“Igor,” she said, stopping in the doorway, “do you really think I’ll crawl back?”
He sneered.
“I know it. In three days, max. When you realize you have nowhere to live and nothing to live on.”
Olga nodded, although everything inside her went cold.
“Then see you in three days,” she said quietly and walked out the door.
Igor saw her to the landing, as if afraid she would change her mind. When the door slammed shut behind her with a clang, Olga heard the key turn in the lock. Once. Twice.
She stood on the dark landing with the bag in her hands, not knowing where to go. The elevator still wasn’t working. The flights of stairs went down into the gloom, lit only by dim bulbs. Somewhere a floor below, a door slammed, voices were heard. Olga slowly walked down, step by step. With every step, the cold grew inside her — not from the autumn night, but from the realization of what had happened.
She had been kicked out. Just like that. No money, no phone, late in the evening.
When she walked out of the entrance, a sharp wind hit her face. Olga shivered, wrapping her raincoat tighter. Streetlights shone dimly overhead, a siren wailed somewhere in the distance. The city lived its nightlife, indifferent to her problems.
Olga took a crumpled 500-ruble note from her pocket — all she had left. Enough for a taxi to Marina’s. Marina, her friend since university days, lived on the other side of town. Olga hoped she was home and could shelter her at least for this night.
She caught a taxi at the nearest intersection, climbed into the back seat, and gave the address. The driver, an elderly man with a gray mustache, glanced at her tear-stained face in the rearview mirror but asked nothing. Maybe he had seen it all in his years of work.
As the car wound through the night streets, Olga looked out the window and thought. She thought about how she and Igor met ten years ago at a book fair. He worked as a manager in a small company then, was modest, attentive, knew how to listen. They walked in the evenings, talked about everything in the world, made plans. Married a year later. Lived modestly but harmoniously. Olga worked in the library, Igor slowly but surely climbed the career ladder.
And then came this promotion. Head of Sales. Decent salary increase. New suits, expensive watches, trendy haircut. And with it — a kind of arrogance, contempt for those who didn’t reach his level. Including his own wife.
Olga wiped her tears. Crying was useless. She had to think about what to do next.
Marina opened the door in a robe, with a towel on her head — apparently, she had just gotten out of the shower. Seeing Olga with a bag and a tear-stained face, she gasped and immediately pulled her friend into the apartment.
“God, Olya, what happened?” She hugged her shoulders and led her into the room. “You’re shaking all over. Hang on, hang on, I’ll put the kettle on.”
Olga sank onto the sofa and only now felt how exhausted she was. Not just physically — tired in her soul. Marina quickly returned with a bottle of water and a blanket, wrapped Olga up, and sat down next to her.
“Tell me,” she said simply.
And Olga told her. About the last three months, the constant reproaches, today’s scandal, how Igor kicked her out without money or a phone. She spoke and cried, and Marina silently stroked her back, shaking her head.
“What a bastard,” she said quietly when Olga fell silent. “Sorry, Olya, but your Igor is a complete bastard. How could he do that to you?”
“He said I’m nobody without him.” Olga wiped her eyes. “That I’ll crawl back in three days.”
“And what are you going to do?”
Olga looked at her, and something firm flashed in her eyes.
“I won’t crawl back. Not in three days, not in three months. Never.”
Marina squeezed her hand tightly.
“That’s right. You can live with me as long as you need. There’s a free room, I adapted it for a workshop, but there’s a pull-out sofa there. We’ll figure it out somehow…”
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