“Be grateful that after thirty years of marriage I’m coming back home and not docking in some foreign port,” the husband said.
“And what if I had cheated on you too?” Marina asked.
“For a woman, cheating is abnormal; for a man, it’s natural. Besides, who needs you at fifty-something?”
Marina had long suspected that Gennady was cheating on her. He’d started taking meticulous care of himself, took his phone even into the bathroom, and when his wife called him “little elephant,” as she had for the past thirty years, he flew into a rage:
“Aren’t you ashamed to baby-talk? That’s only fitting for young girls.”
Even so, Marina kept convincing herself: “Gena and I have been through fire and water and the arrival of two children; you don’t just throw that away. He yelled because he’s tired, and he hides his phone because of corporate secrets and all that.”
She told herself this until Gennady came clean:
“I have another woman. I don’t want to deceive you, so I’m telling you right away.”
Marina bit her lip to stifle a nervous laugh, because her husband looked so proud.
“He probably thinks that unsolicited honesty makes him a good person,” she thought.
“How could you after so many years of marriage?!” burst out of Marina.
“Exactly. I’ve lived with the same woman for thirty years—that’s like eating only fried potatoes for thirty years. Tasty, but you get sick of it. Besides, I’ll be sixty soon; I’ve achieved a lot and earned the right to be happy! I’m young at heart!”
“Seeing someone else, hurting your wife—is that happiness?”
“Don’t dramatize. Two of my colleagues left their families, took all their money with them, their wives were left with nothing. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll keep living with you, because I’m a decent man. I’ll just allow myself a few small male pleasures now.”
Marina sat in the kitchen all night, drinking tea and thinking what to do.
“Maybe I should leave—but where? No savings, I spent everything on the family. And I don’t want to leave, I love Gena. I don’t believe our marriage means nothing to him; it’s probably just a midlife crisis.”
But Gennady showed he took his “small pleasures” seriously. In the evening he ostentatiously put on his nicest suit, doused himself in cologne, and declared:
“I’m going to the theater.”
Everything inside Marina screamed with pain, but she decided not to show her husband how deeply he’d hurt her.
“Have a lovely time,” she replied, though she knew perfectly well he wouldn’t be going alone.
After he left, Marina stood before the mirror for a long time, looking herself over from all angles. The glass mercilessly reflected a pretty but life-weary woman.
“Yes, I’ve let myself go, I’ve put on weight, my dress is like an old woman’s, I forgot to cover my gray… No wonder he looked at someone else; even I can hardly stand to look at myself. I’ll book a salon today—not even for him, but for me.”
Gennady noticed the changes right away, but only snorted:
“Preening your feathers? Pointless. At your age, whatever you do, you won’t get your looks back.”
“I don’t recognize you, Gena,” Marina couldn’t hold back. “A year ago you told me I was the most beautiful woman in the world, and now you’re throwing mud at me. What happened to you—why have you changed so suddenly?”
“I looked around and realized I’ve been spending my life serving others. First I catered to you during your maternity leave, then I raised the kids until eighteen, then I hauled them through university… I want to finally live for myself, without any dependents around my neck.”
By the end of his speech, Gennady was practically shouting, so viciously you’d think he saw a mortal enemy before him.
“I sacrificed a lot too,” Marina reminded him. “I used to sing, I wanted to go to the conservatory, but I had to finish accounting courses to start working sooner so you could build your career. I hate my job, but I endured it for our children and for you, for our family.”
“You should be thanking me—I saved you from the biggest humiliation of your life, and the world from one more talentless singer, because you’re no Babkina.”
That sneer was the last straw for Marina. She remembered how the young Gennady used to beg, “Sing again—your voice is as beautiful as you are.”
“And now I’m ugly, old, and voiceless… Can love really burn out like that and leave only hatred?”
She looked into her husband’s indifferent, even slightly disgusted eyes and realized—it can.
Marina thought that humiliation ended with that conversation, but the worst was yet to come. It turned out Gennady had told not only his wife about his affair, but their grown sons as well. They rushed over to berate their father.
“Dad, are you out of your mind? What affairs at your age—let alone with someone our age?!” the elder pounced.
“You and Mom have lived together so many years—don’t make a spectacle of yourself in your twilight years!” echoed the younger.
“You’ll understand when you grow up,” Gennady smirked. “I’ve fulfilled my duty to all of you, so I have the right to live as I want. And if you insist I forget myself again, let me remind you that I still support you. If you don’t like it, I’ll cut your allowance—take care of yourselves.”
The sons fell silent and exchanged confused glances, then looked at their mother guiltily.
“Sorry, Mom,” the younger muttered.
“Sold their mother out for money,” Marina thought bitterly.
As if that weren’t enough, a week later her friend—the main gossip in their circle—came running. Putting on an air of kindness and concern, she rattled off:
“Your man showed up at the company party with some mop, and she’s younger—around twenty, can you imagine! And so brazen too—smiling at everyone, wiggling her tail, flashing the earrings your man gave her. Everyone else came with their wives, and he brought a floozy.”
The friend fell silent and peered expectantly into Marina’s face.
“She thinks I’ll start a scene, burst into tears—she wants a fresh tidbit to spread,” Marina understood. “I won’t give her that pleasure.”
“Nice to hear Gena isn’t stingy and rewarded the girl for her services,” Marina replied calmly.
Surprise and disappointment flashed across her friend’s face at once.
When she left, Marina burst into tears. All this time she had bottled up her emotions, following her mother’s childhood injunction: “Only weak hysterics cry—people who can’t stand up for themselves.”
But the public disgrace broke her.
When her husband came home from work, she hurled a vase at him.
“Are you crazy?!” Gennady yelled; for a moment fear flickered across his face.
“Turns out it’s quite satisfying to make a scene,” Marina thought, flinging something else at him.
“I put up with your fooling around, but you dragged that filth out in public! I’m talking about your antics and that girl you brought to the company party. Maybe you don’t love me anymore, but don’t I deserve respect after thirty years of marriage?”
“I don’t want to be ashamed of my happiness. I’ve fulfilled my marital duty to you; now I’ll do as I please. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“Then you don’t get to tell me either!” Marina snapped. “Since you’ve decided to live your own life, I will too. I’ll get myself a man—how would you like that?”
“Don’t make me laugh—who’d want you? A woman past fifty. Besides, men are naturally polygamous, so it’s not even cheating—just the call of nature. A loose woman is another matter, so don’t even think about it—don’t disgrace my gray hairs!”
“What gray hairs—you’re nothing but a bald patch!” Marina shot back.
“Why didn’t you wash my shirts?!” Gennady pounced on her the next morning.
Touching up her lipstick, Marina replied:
“Because your shirts are no longer my life. Ask your girlfriend—let her earn those earrings.”
“You’re still my wife, and I support you!” Gennady fumed.
“I can support myself. You won’t be able to blackmail me with money the way you do our sons,” Marina reminded him, snapping her compact shut. “Excuse me—I have a salon appointment.”
“You haven’t even made breakfast!” he shouted from the kitchen.
“Order a pizza—young people eat that!” Marina called back as she closed the door.
She hurried to the salon and then to the shops.
Once, a fight with her husband would have ruined her day; now she fizzed with joy like a bubbly lemonade.
“I never knew it could feel so good to tear away from an old, boring life.”
“Did you dye your hair or something?” Gennady asked suspiciously that evening.
Marina tossed her hair.
“I’ve wanted to for a long time, but the color didn’t suit a ‘matriarch.’ For a free woman, though—it’s perfect.”
“Ugh, nothing’s more disgusting than an aging woman trying to look young,” Gennady grimaced.
“Or an aging man who wears cartoon T-shirts,” Marina replied, flicking his protruding belly.
“It’s fashionable,” he sulked.
“Only if it’s on a young heart-throb.”
The new hair color gave Marina the feeling she could handle anything.
“In a way, Gena is right—we’re always serving the family, the kids, never living for ourselves… It’s time to ask what I want from life and give it to myself,” she decided.
Marina changed her wardrobe, swapping the strict dresses and skirts she wore to work for light, flowing pieces. She bought jeans ripped at the knees—she’d long liked the mischievous look.
“Fits great,” she praised her reflection. “You’re holding up well, girlfriend!”
Her husband, of course, didn’t like it.
“Cover up—no one wants to look at your bony knees.”
“And you’re the one trying your hardest to look young,” Marina noted.
“That’s different—men get better with age; it doesn’t suit women.”
Marina could have argued, but it was enough to step out in her new jeans and stylish hairstyle for her to catch an interested male glance—something that hadn’t happened in ten years. It felt nice.
After the outward changes, Marina decided to work on the inner ones—namely, her hobby. Humming lullabies to the children or singing while washing dishes, she had always dreamed of a stage.
“Maybe it’s too late for a career, but I can sing for myself,” she decided.
Fate seemed to step toward her when Marina saw an invitation to join an amateur choir. At first she was shy, but relaxed when she saw most people there were just like her—adults who wanted to give their dream at least a sliver of time. The artistic director’s compliments finally filled her with hope.
“What an amazing, rich voice you have—one could listen for hours!”
Marina realized she hadn’t been this happy in a long time.
Her changes were categorically unwelcome to her husband. Gennady had no intention of living with her as a wife, but he was perfectly fine with Marina in the role of servant.
“You’re completely out of control—never home, not cooking, hardly cleaning!” he scolded. “Don’t forget we live in my apartment, which I paid for!”
“I’ve paid my dues in full by caring for our children. And if you dislike me living here so much, we can always split up and divide the apartment,” Marina suggested.
“You say ‘divorce’ so easily—do thirty years of marriage mean nothing to you?”
Marina thought he was being ironic, but Gennady’s face showed sincere disappointment and bewilderment.
“It means a great deal to me—that’s the only reason I’m still here. But you were the first to betray our marriage,” Marina replied.
One day after rehearsal, a man who had joined the choir around the same time as Marina came up to her.
“I just wanted to say how much I admire your singing. Tell me, did you ever perform professionally? You have not only the voice, but the looks and bearing of a real artist.”
“Oh, not at all,” Marina blushed.
“It’s been so long since anyone paid me a compliment—I’ve forgotten how to accept them. And his eyes are so beautiful…”
The man smiled, and Marina felt butterflies in her stomach she’d long forgotten.
That’s how her romance with Igor began. At first Marina was tormented by guilt, but by the third date it quieted, eclipsed by boundless happiness. She and Igor had a lot in common, and most importantly, he looked at her the way Gennady had in their youth.
Only one thing bothered Marina: Igor turned out to be ten years younger.
“This is awful—you’ve gotten involved with an old woman!” she exclaimed when she learned his age.
“Marina, you’re not an old woman—you’re a beautiful woman in her prime. And, by the way, you look very young.”
“You’re flattering me,” Marina blushed.
“It’s the truth. And here’s another truth—I’d very much like us to live together, not just see each other in snatches.”
“Are you asking me to leave my husband?” Marina was surprised.
“I wouldn’t ask you to do that, but if it comes to it, know that I’m here and waiting for you.”
Marina walked home so deep in thought she didn’t notice how she arrived.
“Finally decided to show up!” her brazen husband greeted her. “You’ve been staying out late a lot—like you’re eighteen again.”
Gennady chuckled.
Marina looked at her husband but saw not her beloved Gena—only a grumbling stranger with a bald spot and repulsively drooping mouth corners, unattractive and undesirable.
“Thank you,” she said suddenly.
“For what?” he was taken aback.
“If it weren’t for your fooling around, I’d still be sitting at home—miserable and letting myself go. Now I have something I love and a man ten years younger with wonderful eyes and a beautiful voice. And you—you’re my past.”
As soon as she said it, Marina felt as if a stone had fallen from her feet and wings had sprouted in its place. She walked out, no longer paying attention to her husband.
Marina moved in with Igor and immediately filed for divorce, and soon after quit her job because she’d been offered a position as a voice teacher. And though she now earned a bit less, she was wildly happy.
A couple of weeks later, Gennady called.
“Enough fooling around—come home. I’ve forgiven you and I’m ready to start over. I even broke up with my girlfriend.”
“Better make up with her—someone needs to keep an eye on you,” Marina replied. “As for me, I’m far too happy to come back. The convictions of an arrogant husband never change.”
