Lida nodded.
“Good.”
He stood, hesitating, not leaving, looked at her, then at the floor, then at her again.
“Lid, maybe…” he began. Voice trembled. “Maybe we still… try? I really understood everything. I won’t act like that again. Honestly.”
Lida looked at him with a long gaze.
“No, Andrey, we won’t.”
“Why?” He took a step toward her. “I admitted my guilt. I apologized. What else is needed?”
“Nothing,” answered Lida calmly. “Just I don’t want to be with you anymore.”
Andrey froze. His face distorted.
“So that’s it. Four years just crossed out.”
“No. They happened. Now they aren’t. That’s normal.”
“Maybe normal for you!” He raised his voice. “But not for me. I’m left without housing, without a wife, without family. Mother hates me, friends turned away. I have nothing left.”
“You chose that yourself,” said Lida quietly.
“I didn’t choose!” yelled Andrey. “I just wanted…”
“What?” Lida interrupted him. “Wanted to impress mother? At my expense? Wanted me to service your ambitions and keep quiet?”
Andrey stood breathing heavily. Then lowered shoulders.
“I don’t know what I wanted,” he said wearily. “Just wanted everything to be good.”
“Good for you?” corrected Lida. “And you didn’t think about me?”
He looked at her, then looked away.
“You’re right. Didn’t think. Sorry.”
Lida opened the door.
“Go, Andrey. You have your own life now. I have mine.”
He went out onto the stairwell. Turned around.
“Forgive me,” he said quietly, “for everything.”
Lida nodded.
“I forgive. Go.”
The door closed.
Andrey stood on the landing for a few seconds, then went down. Steps receded, faded. Lida leaned against the door, closed eyes, exhaled. That’s it. Ended.
She returned to kitchen, sat at table, took out phone, opened contacts. Found “Andrey”. Looked at name for long time. Then pressed “Block”. Window appeared: “Are you sure?” Lida pressed “Yes”. Done. Andrey disappeared from her phone, from her life.
She put phone on table. Got up, went to bedroom. Opened closet. Place where his clothes hung was empty. Lida ran hand over empty hangers. Then closed closet. Took sports bag she packed a week ago from depth of closet. Unpacked it. Returned things to place. Put bag away.
Went to bathroom. Only her jars, her shampoo, her toothbrush stood on shelf. One. Lida looked at her reflection in mirror. Pale, with dark circles under eyes, hair disheveled. But there was calmness in eyes. She washed with cold water, ran wet hands over face. Dried with towel.
Returned to kitchen. Opened fridge. Almost empty. Need to go to store. Tomorrow. Today can get by with leftovers. Lida took piece of bread, buttered it. Brewed tea. Sat at table. Ate slowly. Looked out window. It was getting dark outside. Streetlights came on one by one. Somewhere far away music played, someone laughed. Life continued. The city lived. People returned to work, to affairs, to routine after holidays.
Lida finished tea. Washed dishes. Wiped table. Looked at clock. Half past seven. Too early to sleep. Too late to go anywhere. She went to living room. Sat on sofa. Turned on TV. Some program was on, people discussing something, laughing. Lida watched without listening. Just watched so it wasn’t so quiet.
Half an hour later turned off TV. Silence returned. But now it was different. Not oppressive, but just calm. Lida stood up, went to kitchen. Poured herself water, drank. Turned off light. Went to bedroom. Closed door. Lay on bed on top of blanket. Took out phone. Opened notes. Reread list: “Move out. Find room for month. Or to Alya’s.” Lida deleted note. No longer needed. She isn’t going anywhere. It’s her home. Her apartment. Her life. Put phone on nightstand. Closed eyes. Fell asleep quickly. Deeply. Without dreams.
January 11th. Evening…
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