Lida returned from work. First day after holidays passed. Heavy, viscous. All employees walked half-asleep. She was tired, but it was a good tiredness. Working tiredness.
Lida opened apartment door. Undressed. Went to kitchen. Turned on kettle. Sat at table. Phone vibrated. Lida took it out of bag. Unknown number. Picked up.
“Hello.”
“Lida?” Voice of Tamara Ignatyevna. “It’s me.”
Lida froze.
“Hello.”
“Hello.” Mother-in-law paused. “Listen, I’m calling about Andrey. Is he with you?”
“No. He’s living at his friend’s.”
“But I wanted to talk to you. Woman to woman.”
Lida was silent.
“Lid, I understand he messed up. Messed up seriously. But people make mistakes. He didn’t mean to. He just… wanted what was best.”
“For himself,” added Lida.
“Well yes, for himself.” Tamara Ignatyevna sighed. “But you are his wife. You should forgive him. Give one more chance.”
“Don’t have to,” answered Lida calmly.
“What do you mean don’t have to?” Indignation sounded in mother-in-law’s voice. “You are family. Married before God.”
“We didn’t marry in church. We signed papers. And that at his insistence because he needed registration.”
Silence.
“Lida, well you’re not a monster,” said Tamara Ignatyevna quieter. “You understand he’s suffering now. He called me, cried, said he understood everything, won’t do it again.”
“Those are his problems,” answered Lida. “Not mine.”
“But you loved him?”
“Loved. Past tense…”
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