— We? — I asked again in an icy tone. Into the word “we,” I put all my contempt.
He flinched.
— What does “we” mean? — he didn’t understand.
— It’s your car, Denis, and your loan. You wanted this yourself, you explained to me yourself that everyone has their own expenses. What does “we” have to do with it?
I said this calmly, almost indifferently. He looked at me, and in his eyes, despair gave way to complete bewilderment. He seemed to begin to understand something.
— But we are a family, — he stammered.
— Family? Really? But I’m more concerned about another question. — I paused, looking him straight in the eyes. — How do you intend to pay your half for the apartment rent now?
It was a kill shot. He opened his mouth, closed it. He couldn’t find an answer. In his eyes, I saw real primal fear. He had just realized that his world had collapsed completely, and no one was going to save him.
Two months passed. Two long, torturous months for Denis. The car, of course, was taken by the bank for non-payment. It was a terrible blow to his self-esteem. He watched the tow truck take away his black, shiny dream, and I noticed tears in his eyes. Job searches yielded no results. His inflated ego didn’t allow him to consider vacancies with a salary lower than he had, and no one would hire him at the previous level. He went to interviews, returned angry and empty, and sank deeper into apathy every day. The small savings he had ran out quickly.
I lived my life: worked, took orders, dutifully transferred my half for utilities to his card, and bought groceries with my part of the money. We hardly spoke. I saw how haggard he looked, how he lost weight. Sometimes at night, I heard him tossing and turning on the sofa in the living room — he didn’t come into our bedroom anymore.
That day I was packing a large suitcase. I took a vacation from my main job and was going to fly away. For a long time.
Denis entered the room. He looked terrible: unshaven, with sunken eyes, in an old T-shirt. He stood at the door for a long time, shifting from foot to foot, not daring to speak.
— Are you going somewhere? — he finally asked quietly.
— Yes, — I answered shortly, not looking up from my task.
He was silent, gathering his courage. Then he came closer.
— Alina… — he began guiltily.
I froze but didn’t turn around.
— I have absolutely no money, none at all. I… I haven’t eaten since yesterday, — he squeezed out. Every word came to him with great difficulty. This was the bottom, his personal bottom of humiliation. — Give me at least a thousand, please. For food. I’ll pay it back, honestly, as soon as I find a job, I’ll pay everything back immediately.
I slowly straightened up and turned to him. Looked carefully into his face. He didn’t raise his eyes, looking somewhere at the floor. Not a drop of his former arrogance and self-confidence remained in him, only a pathetic, crushed man. And I felt nothing: neither gloating nor pity. Emptiness. A slight cruel smirk appeared on my lips…
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