— Denis, don’t speed, there’s a seventy-kilometer-per-hour camera here. Son, switch to “Radio FM,” why are we listening to this mumbling of yours. Oh, look at that house they’ve built, rich people…
Alisa sat in the back, pressed into the corner of the seat, and looked out the window. She felt like a third wheel, an accidental passenger taken along out of politeness. All her attempts to interject into the conversation were cut short.
— I was reading yesterday that in this area… — she began.
— Alevtina, please be quiet, don’t distract the driver, — Zoya Pavlovna immediately cut her off, mixing up her name again.
Alisa fell silent and turned back to the window. Suburban towns, fields, and forest belts flashed by. The sun was beating down through the glass, and it was getting stuffy in the car. Denis turned on the air conditioner, but his mother-in-law immediately protested:
— Turn it off, it’s blowing on me. You want to catch a cold? My joints ache, I can’t be in a draft.
Denis obediently turned off the air conditioner and slightly opened the window. The noise of the highway and the smell of exhaust fumes rushed into the car. Alisa felt a slight nausea rise in her throat. She took a bottle of water from her handbag and took a sip. Her stomach rumbled unpleasantly. “Probably from nerves,” she thought. The last few days had been so stressful, and now this trip.
She leaned back in her seat and tried to relax, focusing on the landscape outside the window. She remembered her honeymoon with Denis. They had spent it in the mountains, renting a small cabin by a lake. He had been completely different then. Attentive, caring. He listened to her, admired her work, made plans for the future. He talked about how they would buy a big apartment, have two children, a boy and a girl, and travel the world. Back then, there was no room for his mother in his words. He said “we,” meaning only the two of them. Where had it all gone? When did his “we” turn into “me” and “mom”?
— And what about your brother Misha, — Zoya Pavlovna’s voice suddenly broke her thoughts, turning to her, — is he still not married? The man is thirty-seven, and he’s still a bachelor. He must have a difficult personality.
— He has a lot of work, — Alisa replied coldly. — He’s a successful lawyer.
— A lawyer, — her mother-in-law huffed. — They’re all crooks. Defending criminals for big money. An honest person wouldn’t become a lawyer.
Alisa gritted her teeth. Mikhail was not just her brother; he was her best friend, her support. After their parents’ death, they were left alone and always supported each other. He was an honest and principled man, and hearing such things from Zoya Pavlovna was unbearable.
— You don’t know him well enough to say that! — she said a little louder than she should have.
— What’s there to know? — her mother-in-law retorted. — You can tell he’s a man who keeps to himself. Always gloomy, quiet. Not like my Deniska—the life of the party.
Denis, at the wheel, coughed awkwardly:
— Mom, why are you saying that? Misha is a normal guy.
— Normal, normal, — Zoya Pavlovna grumbled. — He just can’t even provide for his sister properly. Married her off to my son with zero dowry. Just this white car. And she probably took out a loan for it.
— The car was bought with my own money, without any loans, — Alisa snapped, feeling her cheeks begin to burn. — And I’m not a dowry to be provided for.
A tense silence fell in the car. Denis shot her a quick, pleading look in the rearview mirror. “Be quiet,” his eyes read.
Zoya Pavlovna slowly turned to Alisa. Her face took on an expression of offended virtue.
— I see you’ve become quite independent. Found your voice. Well, well. Just don’t forget who’s the boss in the house.
— The boss? — At that moment, Denis was diligently pretending to be completely engrossed in the road. He turned up the music, walling himself off from the brewing scandal.
Alisa turned to the window, feeling humiliated and betrayed. A sharp pain jabbed her stomach again, this time stronger. She placed a hand on her right side. The pain was dull and aching, but tolerable. Probably just a spasm. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. She couldn’t give in to the provocation. That’s all Zoya Pavlovna was waiting for. She wanted to get a rise out of her, to show Denis what an hysterical and disrespectful wife he had.
An hour later, they stopped at a gas station. Denis went to pay for the gas, and Zoya Pavlovna went to the little shop at the station.
— Alis! — her mother-in-law called out, returning with a bag in her hand. — I bought some pies. We’ll starve before we get there.
She took a pie from the bag and handed it to Alisa:
— Here, eat. Homemade, with potatoes.
— Thank you, I don’t want any, — Alisa refused.
Denis returned, also took a pie, and began to eat with gusto.
— Mmm, Mom, as always. Delicious, — he said with his mouth full. — Alis, why aren’t you eating? Try it. It’s really good.
— I’m really not hungry, — Alisa repeated, feeling the pain in her side sharpen. She pressed her hand to her stomach again.
— What’s wrong with you? — Denis noticed her gesture.
— My stomach hurts a little, — she admitted.
Zoya Pavlovna immediately reacted:
— See, I told you. You ate your chemical yogurt this morning, and now it hurts. You should have eaten porridge, like normal people. Never mind, we’ll find a pill in the car. Let’s go, Denis, or we won’t get there by evening.
They got back into the car. Alisa found a painkiller in the glove compartment and took a pill with some water. She hoped the pain would subside, but it only got worse. The aching pain turned into a sharp, cutting one. She could no longer sit up straight, huddling on the back seat, pressing her knees to her chest. She tried to breathe deeply, but each breath brought a new wave of pain.
Denis seemed to notice nothing. He was chatting cheerfully with his mother, discussing the upcoming barbecue and plans for the evening. Alisa looked at the back of his head and felt an icy wall growing between them. He was here, right next to her, just inches away, but at the same time so far away—in another world, one without her pain, her fear, her despair.
Another hour passed. The white crossover sped along the highway, leaving kilometers of asphalt behind. For Denis and Zoya Pavlovna, it was a pleasant journey toward relaxation. But for Alisa, the road had become torture. The pill hadn’t helped. The pain didn’t just fail to subside; it became unbearable, pulsating, and concentrated somewhere in the lower right side of her abdomen. Alisa could no longer remain silent.
— Denis, I feel really sick, — she whispered, struggling to straighten up. Her voice was weak, almost inaudible over the engine’s noise.
Denis shot a quick glance at her in the mirror.
— What, still hurts? Maybe another pill?
— It’s not that. The pain is different, very strong.
Alisa bit her lip to keep from groaning.
— I think we need to go to a hospital.
Zoya Pavlovna, sitting in the front, snorted loudly without even turning her head:
— To a hospital! What an idea, going to the hospital for a stomach ache. You’re a child! Have you never had a stomach ache before? It’s just food poisoning from your fancy new foods. We’ll get to the dacha, I’ll make you some chamomile tea, and it’ll be gone in no time.
— It’s not food poisoning. — Alisa struggled to sit up, wincing from a new surge of pain. — The pain is very sharp, stabbing, right here on the right. — She pointed with her hand.
— Oh, don’t make me laugh! — her mother-in-law waved her off. — Such an actress, putting on a show. We’re almost there, only about forty kilometers left. The barbecue is waiting, Aunt Valya is waiting for us, and you’re here with your stomach ache.
— Mom, maybe it’s really something serious? — a hint of doubt entered Denis’s voice. He looked in the mirror again and saw his wife’s pale, pain-distorted face.
— What could possibly be serious? — Zoya Pavlovna wouldn’t let up. — Appendicitis, or what? With appendicitis, you have a high fever and vomiting. Do you have a fever? — she finally turned around and gave Alisa a contemptuous look.
— I don’t know. I’m just in a lot of pain, — Alisa stammered. She was starting to shiver, even though it was stuffy in the car.
— “I don’t know,” — her mother-in-law mimicked. — First she doesn’t know, then she’s in pain. Denis, pay no attention, just drive. She’s just seeking attention. I bet she didn’t want to go to the dacha, so she invented an illness. I see right through her.
Her mother-in-law’s words were like slaps in the face. Alisa looked at her, unable to utter a word. How could someone be so cruel? How could you not believe a person writhing in pain? She turned her gaze to her husband, seeking support, but Denis looked away again, focusing on the road.
— Mom, maybe we should stop at a medical clinic along the way?
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