— Maria, how did this happen? — the woman sighed, looking at her daughter with worry.
— Mom, everything’s fine, honestly, — Maria replied calmly. — I’m on vacation, so I can work there for a month, maybe even longer. The main thing is to figure out where the quotas disappear to and how the whole system works. Who or what is needed to get that wretched quota?
Maria gazed at her mother thoughtfully. Antonina Sergeyevna, not yet an old woman, could barely move on her own. Her mobility was limited to shifting from a chair to a sofa and back. Her joints were in dire need of a complete replacement. Every single one.
The doctor said the operation could be performed under quota. Of course, they wouldn’t do everything at once, but obtaining that quota was proving impossible. Her mother categorically rejected the idea of taking out loans, and the moment the topic was mentioned, she would begin to reprimand Maria.
— Understand, — she said, — you can’t do that because you’ll fall into debt! Your salary is meager, and my pension is even less. And if something happens on the operating table, how are you supposed to get out of it all on your own?
— Mom, what are you saying? — Maria protested. — Why should anything happen? Everything will be fine.
— Do you hear me? Nothing good will come of this. Let’s end this conversation. If we can’t get the quota, I’ll have to move around on crutches. But I won’t allow myself to be immobilized at this age. You understand, you have your whole life ahead of you. You need to think about getting married, having children. And with such debts? No way. That’s not even up for discussion.
Maria wasn’t idle. She was running around various offices, always first in line. Yet the quotas still managed to slip away in an inexplicable manner. That’s when she decided to work as a hospital orderly—to listen, to observe, to understand the system from the inside and, perhaps, finally break through to where she needed to be. If, of course, she could find out anything at all.
She hadn’t imagined that the hospital could be so intriguing—a whole separate world with its own orders and rules. Up to this point, Maria hadn’t asked anyone anything. The patients varied—from the most ordinary to quite complex. Admittedly, there was an informal segregation. She realized this both from her observations and from what her partner had told her.
— Look, Mash, this wing — her partner pointed — here lie the ordinary patients. And over there are those you need to run to if they call. These can wait, but these cannot.
— Why? — Maria inquired.
— There are many reasons. First, here lie the quota patients, — the orderly waved a hand toward the wing with ordinary patients. — And over there are the paying patients. Secondly, as you understand, those people aren’t exactly simple. That is, if something goes wrong, they can complicate life for everyone. Thirdly… — she hesitated, — thirdly, those are the paid wards. And if they hire separate orderlies, our salaries would barely cover bread.
Maria pondered.
— So you’re saying that even for operations done under quota, the treatment is different?
Irina shrugged:
— I can’t say that to you. Later on, everyone gets treated the same. Perhaps they don’t even pay attention… Although maybe there is some difference in the medicines and materials.
The longer Maria worked, the more she realized that the quota wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. “No, mom will surely say it’s all nonsense, that she’s not diabetic to worry about such trivialities, but…”
In general, things with her mother were complicated. Maria was an attractive young woman, already 27, yet still unmarried. Moreover, she didn’t have a boyfriend either. Once, her mother had given birth to her at 30, just for the sake of having a child. She said that Maria’s father still doesn’t know he has a daughter. They had only met briefly.
As soon as Antonina Sergeyevna found out she was pregnant, she immediately ended the relationship. Although, in truth, there hadn’t been much of one to begin with. The man was married, and he wasn’t planning on doing anything—well, he said he was, but in a very uncertain manner.
Now her mother complained that Maria was following in her footsteps, that there was nothing joyful ahead. And no words from her daughter about wanting to get her life in order could change Antonina Sergeyevna’s mind.
— Mash, today you’re on duty in the paid ward, — the head nurse said.
And so it happened. Maria tried not to show her joy. She had been there before, of course, but she had never been on duty for an entire shift.
The wards in the paid section were very different from those in the ordinary patients’ department. Everything was beautiful, modern. Beds with electric lifters—truly, being on duty there was like a fairytale. Maria immediately got to work. She wasn’t one to rush, doing everything meticulously. She had already tidied up three wards and moved on to the fourth.
In this ward lay a man of about sixty, give or take. Evidently, he was an important person, perhaps not just any person, but a wealthy one. He always had someone with him. On the bedside table was a laptop, and beside it lay a phone.
And now he had visitors. As Maria understood, it was his daughter with her husband and, most likely, her mother-in-law. They were talking, and the tone among all of them wasn’t particularly friendly.
Apparently, the husband and his mother were French. The daughter spoke Russian with her father and French with them. Maria, who had been fascinated by languages since childhood, easily understood what they were saying. In just a few phrases, she realized that it was best to pretend not to understand. After all, what could an orderly know?
The young woman turned out not to be his daughter, but his stepdaughter. She was slightly older than Maria, yet looked simply magnificent. The conversation revolved around the fact that the man was tired and it was time for him to retire. However, he had no intention of going anywhere.
— Natasha, what are you fantasizing about? — he objected. — I feel perfectly fine. Look, they treated me, now I’ll be able to outrun you.
— Dad, what are you saying? — the girl insisted. — You’ve worked all your life; isn’t it time to rest, take care of your health, travel, and enjoy life?
— No, that’s not for me. Look at you—always traveling. Isn’t it time you settled down and got your act together?
— I’m doing just fine. Jean is an amazing person.
The man snorted:
— Well, you know best.
The young woman turned to her husband and began speaking in French:
— What shall we do? If this stubborn old man doesn’t hand over his business to me, in a month our debts will tear us apart.
Jean glanced warily at Maria, then asked Natalia:
— Are you sure no one understands us?
Natalia laughed:
— An orderly? Come off it. They barely speak Russian.
— I see. Let’s think about what we’ll do then.
Jean paused, then said:
— We need to take decisive action. And not delay.
— You’re suggesting we eliminate him?
— We need to make it look like an accident. What floor are we on?
— Fourth.
— Excellent. The key is that there’s no chance for rescue.
— Jean, if… — Natalia began.
— Don’t worry, no one will know anything. I’ll take care of everything, — her husband interrupted.
Natalia turned to the man in bed:
— Alright, Dad, we’re leaving. We need to rest after the trip, and we’ll see each other tomorrow.
The man smiled again:
— Natasha, you can visit three times a day, but you won’t get a company.
Maria noticed a change in the young woman’s expression, but she quickly composed herself. They left the ward, carefully closing the door behind them. After a while, the patient banged his fist on the table:
— Ah, my mother used to tell me: study hard, master languages…
Maria quietly approached him:
— I can help you. I speak French fluently. And I overheard their conversation.
— Is that so! — he looked at the orderly with interest. — And since when did our junior medical staff become so fond of languages?
— I’m not exactly a medical worker, well, not always.
— My name is Sergey Nikolaevich. Sit down. Tell me what you heard.
Maria nodded but didn’t sit. She liked this elderly man. His eyes were serious, kind. And besides, she couldn’t do such a thing. It was simply a crime.
Sergey Nikolaevich listened attentively, then said:
— This is more or less what I expected. Thank you, kind girl. Don’t tell anyone anything. I’ll handle the rest. It’s even for the best that things are unfolding this way.
The next morning, Maria arrived at work and froze. The hospital was in a bustle. Policemen, plainclothes officers, the chief doctor looking as pale as chalk. Irina immediately ran up to her:
— Oh, Mashka, can you believe what’s going on? In the paid department, there was a businessman. So, last night someone tried to kill him. Can you imagine, they bribed a security guard and broke in. But the businessman already knew everything, and they were ambushed. Like in a movie! And the most interesting part—his stepdaughter wanted to kill him to seize his business. The drama is real!
— Is he okay? — Maria asked worriedly.
— Yes, on the bed instead of him was another man. He disarmed that couple.
— And the patient himself?
— He left. Either went home or to another clinic. Now ours will have to clean up this mess for a long time.
Maria worked for almost a month, yet she still hadn’t advanced in solving her own problem. She even spoke with the chief doctor, but he just shrugged:
— Marichka, we don’t allocate quotas. We only do our jobs. This isn’t our issue. Either, you’re welcome to pay extra. But I don’t set the prices. I don’t decide these matters.
Maria was disheartened. She had wasted her vacation. She hadn’t earned money, and nothing was resolved with her mom. Apparently, she would have to take out a loan after all, without telling her mother a thing. Now that she knew everyone here, she’d ask them to keep quiet about the paid operation.
The more Maria thought about it, the more she liked the idea. Her mom wouldn’t find out. And if she did later, it wouldn’t be a big deal. By then, her mother would be moving around independently, and that was what mattered.
In the evening, Maria did her calculations on a sheet of paper. She called all the banks, learned the conditions and interest rates. Now she had to decide which option to choose so that she could repay the loan. There was a knock at the door.
Maria went to answer. “Neighbor, probably Aunt Vera, here to chat with Mom. They sometimes sit for two hours over tea. While Aunt Vera fills Mom in on all the news…”
But standing at the door was not her. Maria looked in surprise at Sergey Nikolaevich. He, leaning on a cane, held a bouquet of flowers in one hand. Behind him stood a young man, presumably an assistant.
— Hello, Maria. May I come in? — the businessman asked.
She stepped back, bewildered:
— Of course, come in, but… what are you doing here?
— Every well-mannered person is obliged to at least thank you for saving his life. Come into the room. Mom, we have guests!
The young man shot Maria a glance and lifted two huge bags:
— Where to? The kitchen?
Maria parted her lips, intending to ask what was in the bags. But the guest already nodded:
— Understood. To the kitchen.
The girl couldn’t help but smile and followed Sergey Nikolaevich into the room. The man stopped dead in his tracks and stood, unable to take his eyes off Maria’s mother.
— Tonya? — he said in surprise.
She flinched, set her book aside, and looked at the uninvited guest:
— Sergey?
— Tonya. So many years have passed… What a reunion.
— Sergey, what are you doing here?
— You won’t believe it. I came to express my gratitude to your daughter for saving my life.
Antonina looked sternly at Maria:
— Mash, are you getting involved again?
Sergey hurriedly interjected:
— Tonya, don’t scold her. She’s amazing, brave, honest. She truly saved my life. How are you, Tonya?
Maria realized that she now felt out of place and went to the kitchen, from where the clatter of dishes was coming. The young man was setting the table—cakes, platters of sliced meat. The kettle whistled loudly. Maria smiled, sat on a chair, and grabbed a piece of sausage. The man looked at her in surprise:
— Well, I was counting on you…
— No, no, don’t worry, I’ll just sit here; I’m very comfortable. Just make sure you don’t break any dishes, — Maria said innocently, fluttering her eyelashes.
The man gulped, then laughed:
— Pardon me. I love to cook, but at the same time, I’m a lawyer. And in the kitchen, I often don’t have enough time. By the way, my name is Dmitry.
— Maria.
A quarter of an hour later, the table in the room was set. Dmitry uncorked a bottle of wine and poured it into glasses:
— To Maria, to life, to this meeting!
— The meeting was certainly completely unexpected. You know, Mashka, I was madly in love with your mom. But back then I had too many obligations. Now I very much regret not leaving everything behind and running away with her to the end of the world.
“Now, in old age, I’m completely alone,” — Sergey sighed, then continued more seriously: — And don’t worry about Mom. She told me about your plans. There’s no talk of any loans. I’ll pay for all the operations. They’re nothing. Perhaps, sometimes, you’ll let me drop by for tea. It’s hard being alone.
— You’re not alone, — Antonina murmured quietly.
Sergey turned to her:
— What do you mean?
Antonina Sergeyevna sighed:
— I always hoped I’d never have to do this, but… Sergey, meet your daughter, Maria.
A silence fell over the table. Sergey looked at Maria, and Maria looked at her mother. Dmitry just gaped.
A year passed. Antonina Sergeyevna, leaning on an elegant cane, paced in front of the mirror:
— Sergey, how’s it going?
— As always, excellent. I think your daughter will like him.
— Oh, she won’t like him at all now. You need to postpone the wedding so that she’ll suffer from toxicosis on her own celebration!
Sergey embraced Antonina:
— You know how youth is. “Spring, then spring.” Even Dmitry, her future husband, couldn’t persuade her.
— Oh, I know. Well, shall we go?
— Let’s go. I almost forgot, — Sergey reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. — This should have been done a long time ago. Very long ago. Will you marry me?
Antonina laughed:
— Sergey, do you even remember how old we are?
— I do, but for me, that doesn’t matter at all.
— Well, then, of course, yes.
