“You have no right. It’s shared money.”
“It’s zero there,” said Lida calmly. “You spent it all, so you have nothing to lose.”
“But you will save there, and I won’t be able to…”
“Exactly,” nodded Lida. “You won’t be able to.”
Andrey stood breathing heavily, hands clenched into fists.
“You are destroying our family,” he said slowly.
“No. You did that. Yesterday evening.”
“I tried to fix it!”
“You tried to shift the blame to me. Told mother I didn’t give you money. That’s a lie.”
Andrey flinched as if he had been hit.
“I… panicked. Didn’t know what to say. And lied. As usual.” He sank back onto the chair, picked up the fallen chair, sat down. “What do you want from me?” he asked wearily. “What are you achieving?”
“Nothing,” answered Lida. “I’m just living my life. Without you in it.”
She left the kitchen. Andrey remained sitting at the table, staring at the empty plate.
The next days passed in a strange, suspended state. They lived in one apartment but almost didn’t intersect. Lida got up early, went for a walk or to a friend’s. Returned when Andrey was already locked in his office. Each cooked for themselves, ate separately.
On January 3rd, Andrey tried to speak again. Lida was standing in the kitchen, cutting vegetables for a salad. He came in, sat at the table.
“Lida, listen, we can’t live like this.”
Lida didn’t answer, continued cutting cucumbers.
“Let’s talk normally, like adults.”
“About what?”
“About us. About what happened. About how to move forward.”
Lida put down the knife. Turned to him.
“Forward, you live your life, I live mine. Until you find other housing.”
Andrey turned pale.
“You want me to move out?”
“Yes.”
“But this is my apartment too!”
“I made the down payment with my money. I pay the mortgage. You are registered here, but the owner is me.”
Andrey was silent. Then squeezed out:
“I understood. So that’s it. You’re kicking me out.”
“I’m asking you to move out, those are different things.”
“Where will I go? I have no money for rent.”
“That’s your problem,” said Lida. “You’re an adult man. Head of the family. You’ll figure it out.”
Andrey stood up abruptly, the chair creaked.
“I won’t leave,” he said harshly. “Hear me? Won’t leave. It’s my apartment too. I’m registered here. I have rights.”
“Fine,” Lida nodded. “Then just live here. But don’t approach me. Don’t talk to me. Pretend I don’t exist. As I will pretend you don’t exist.”
She took the plate with the salad and left the kitchen.
On January 6th, Lida returned from work and heard voices in the living room. Male and female. She froze in the hallway, listened.
“Andryusha, well you must understand her,” a woman was saying. The voice was familiar—Tamara Ignatyevna. “She’s offended. Women are like that, they need to be given time to cool down.”
“I tried to talk to her,” Andrey answered. “She doesn’t listen. Says I should move out.”
“What do you mean move out? It’s your apartment.”
“She says it’s hers, that I’m only registered here.”
Pause.
“Well, technically she’s right,” said the mother-in-law slowly. “But in essence, it’s your joint home. You are a family.”
“She doesn’t think so.”
Tamara Ignatyevna sighed.
“I’ll talk to her.”
“Don’t, Mom.”
“Must. She’s completely lost her mind. Can’t treat a husband like that.”
Lida pushed the living room door. Entered. Andrey and Tamara Ignatyevna sat on the sofa. The mother-in-law turned around. On her face was the habitual mask of courtesy.
“Oh, Lidochka, how good that you came. We were just talking about you.”
“I heard,” said Lida.
Tamara Ignatyevna smiled. Strainedly. Coldly.
“Lid, let’s sit down, talk. Like adults.”
“Don’t want to.”
The smile trembled.
“Lidochka, well don’t be a child. I understand you’re offended at Andryusha. He acted wrongly, I agree with you. But is that a reason to destroy a family?”
“Your son destroyed the family,” said Lida evenly, “when he spent my money without asking.”
“But these are trifles.” Tamara Ignatyevna waved her hand. “Money isn’t the main thing. The main thing is family, love, mutual understanding.”
“Then why didn’t you forgive Andrey his lies on New Year’s?”
The mother-in-law fell silent. Eyes narrowed…
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