Dima laughed again, and that laugh made my vision go dark.
— To hell with the chair! I’ve already forgotten how to sit in it. It’s all good, we’ll manage. The main thing is to hold out until the insurance payout. There’s not much longer to go, and then we can go to the ends of the earth.
I stared at the screen, at the laughing face of the man to whom I had given two years of my life. The shock passed. In its place came a cold, calm, all-consuming rage. The world didn’t collapse. It simply took on its true, ugly shape.
I slowly closed the laptop. There were no tears. There was only one desire — to go home and look them in the eyes.
The drive from the hotel to our home felt like an eternity. I drove on autopilot, not noticing traffic lights or other cars. My mind was a complete, ringing void. All emotions had burned out, leaving only the cold ashes of resolve.
I parked in the next courtyard over so as not to scare them off prematurely. The lights were on in our apartment windows, and I could hear the muffled sounds of music and laughter. My home, my quiet sanctuary of sorrow, had turned into a place for a merry party.
I went up to our floor, trying to walk as quietly as possible. The key turned in the lock almost silently. I pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway. The music was louder now, and it smelled of fried chicken and beer. I took off my shoes and tiptoed into the living room.
The scene I saw will be forever etched in my memory. At our dining table, which for the last two years had served as a storage area for medicines, sat Dima and Stas. The table was covered with bottles and plates of food. They were arguing animatedly about something and laughing. The very moment I walked in, Dima was getting up from the table to get another beer from the kitchen. He was standing with his back to me, perfectly healthy and upright.
Stas was the first to see me. His smile vanished from his face. His eyes widened in horror. He nudged Dima.
— Uh-oh… Ann!
Dima turned around slowly. When he saw me standing in the doorway, his face turned white as a sheet. The bottle he was holding slipped from his hand and fell to the carpet with a dull thud.
— Ann? — his voice was barely a whisper. — You… you’re supposed to be at your mom’s?
A deafening silence fell over the room. The music seemed to get a hundred times louder, emphasizing the absurdity and horror of the situation. I looked at my husband, standing on his own two feet, and at his friend, frozen with his mouth open.
I took a step forward.
— Mom’s feeling better! — my voice sounded surprisingly calm, even icy. I glanced over the table, at their terrified faces. — I see everyone here is healthy too. Legs are walking, hands are holding beer. A miraculous recovery, Dima, right before my very eyes!
Dima swallowed hard. He took a step back and literally collapsed onto a chair, as if his legs could no longer support him. But it was too late; the masquerade was over.
— Ann, I… uh… I can explain everything! — he stammered…
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