“What will I tell mother now?” he mumbled. “What will I tell her? She’ll hate me. Everyone will laugh at me. Lida, do you realize what you’ve done?”
Lida picked up the phone from the table.
“I didn’t do anything,” she said quietly. “You did this.”
She left the kitchen. Locked herself in the bedroom. Lay on the bed on top of the blanket. Firecrackers exploded outside the window. Someone was setting off fireworks. Voices, laughter. The New Year was beginning. Lida lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling. In her chest was the same emptiness. Quiet. Calm. She felt neither pity for Andrey nor joy. Nothing. Just emptiness. And relief. Finally.
Lida woke up on January 1st at half past ten. Outside the window was a gray, murky day. The snow stopped falling, but the sky remained low, leaden. She lay looking at the ceiling, listening to the silence of the apartment. Andrey didn’t leave the living room all night. Lida heard him tossing on the sofa, muttering something in his sleep. Toward morning he went quiet.
She got up, dressed, left the bedroom. Walked past the living room. The door was ajar. Andrey was sleeping on the sofa, covered with a plaid blanket. Face gray, mouth half-open. A phone lay on the coffee table. Nearby an empty beer bottle.
Lida went to the kitchen. Turned on the kettle. Sat at the table. Her plate from yesterday still lay on the table. Lida hadn’t had time to clear it. Next to it stood that miserable salad of Andrey’s. The Olivier he never served to guests. The bowl was covered with a plate, but the edges of the salad had already dried out, turned black. Lida opened the fridge. Almost empty. A bottle of kefir, a piece of bread, a little cottage cheese—everything she bought yesterday. Leftovers of Andrey’s groceries: mayonnaise, a can of peas, a piece of sausage. Nothing more.
She brewed tea, cut a piece of bread. Sat at the table, chewed slowly. A car drove by outside, honking: someone was celebrating. Muffled laughter and music drifted from the neighboring apartment.
Lida finished her tea, washed the cup. Took her phone. Ten missed calls from her friend Alla. The last message came at one in the morning. “Happy New Year! How are things with you? Everything okay?” Lida typed a reply: “Thanks. Everything is good. Congratulate you too.” Put down the phone. Looked at the living room door. Silence from there. Andrey was sleeping.
Lida returned to the bedroom. Took a sports bag out of the closet. Started packing things. Not everything, only the essentials. Two changes of clothes, underwear, a toiletry bag, phone charger, documents—passport, Tax ID, cards. Wrapped everything neatly, zipped up the bag. Then sat on the bed, opened the banking app, went to the settings of the joint savings account. Removed Andrey from the list of owners. Confirmed the action. Done. Now he has no access. He won’t be able to withdraw a penny more. Lida closed the app. Looked at the bag. Then got up, hid it in the closet behind winter jackets. It was early yet, but readiness was calming.
Andrey woke up around three in the afternoon. Lida was sitting in the bedroom reading a book. Heard him get up, go to the bathroom, water ran for a long time, then he came out, went to the kitchen. Lida put down the book, got up, went out into the corridor, stopped in the kitchen doorway. Andrey stood by the stove, heating leftovers of yesterday’s Olivier in the microwave. Turned around, saw her. His face was swollen, eyes red. He looked away.
“Hi,” he said dully.
“Hi.”
The microwave beeped. Andrey took out the plate, sat at the table, began to eat. Silently, slowly, forcing himself. Lida poured herself water, stood by the window.
“Mother isn’t answering calls,” said Andrey suddenly. His voice was even, empty. “I called about twenty times. She hangs up.”
Lida was silent.
“Gena wrote me in DM. Said I’m a disgrace to the family, that mother cried all night, that I humiliated her.”
Lida drank water in small sips.
“Seryozha deleted me from friends, Nastya too.” Andrey put down the fork. “Everyone knows now. Everyone says I’m a liar and a loser.”
“You told them that yourself,” noted Lida quietly.
“What?”
“You promised them what you couldn’t give yourself. Exposed yourself.”
Andrey clenched his jaws.
“If you had helped me…”
“No,” Lida turned to him. “Don’t start again. You spent my money without asking. You invited guests without consulting. You are to blame for everything yourself.”
“I am to blame,” repeated Andrey. His voice trembled. “You’re right. I am to blame. I ruined everything. Happy?”
“No. I don’t need your admission of guilt. I need you to understand. I am not your servant. I am not a tool for your ambitions.”
Andrey lowered his head. Sat looking into the plate.
“What now?” he asked quietly. “Mother hates me. The family turned away. You despise me.”
“I don’t despise you,” said Lida. “I just don’t care.”
Andrey raised his eyes to her. There was something pitiful, pleading in them.
“Lid, well let’s somehow… fix everything. I understood my mistake. Honestly. I’ll never do that again.”
“You won’t,” agreed Lida. “Because you won’t have access to the joint account anymore.”
Andrey froze.
“What?”
“I removed you from the owners. The savings account is now mine alone.”
His face turned white.
“You… what?”
“I protected my money.”
“Lida, that’s our joint account! We are husband and wife!”
“Were husband and wife,” she corrected. “Until you decided you could dispose of my labor without asking.”
Andrey jumped up, the chair tipped over…
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