Maybe you’ll make an exception for old acquaintances?”
— “Next stop, ‘Central Square’. Please pay your fare,” Irina announced as she squeezed between passengers in the crowded bus.
The July heat had turned the interior into a real oven. Sweat trickled down her back, and her uniform shirt uncomfortably clung to her skin. But twelve years of working as a conductor had taught her to ignore such discomfort.
— “Sir, have you paid your fare?” Irina asked, extending the payment terminal to the elderly passenger.
He nodded, showing his social benefits card. She continued moving down the aisle, quickly scanning the bus. Some were dozing, others were intently scrolling on their phones, while some simply stared blankly out the window.
— “Sveta, did you hear? Now milk costs one hundred and twenty! If this keeps up, we’ll have to switch to bread with water.” That voice. Irina froze, not believing her ears.
— “Oh come on, Alyona. It’s happened before. We’ll manage somehow.”
Just three steps away, two women sat. One was a striking blonde with a short haircut, the other had dark hair pulled back in a careless bun. Both were around her age – in their fifties. There was something familiar about their modest but neat attire.
Alyona Vorontsova and Svetlana Petrova. Her former classmates.
— “They cut my salary yesterday, can you believe it?” sighed Alyona. “They said there aren’t enough customers, the bus isn’t profitable. And I have a loan to pay.” — “I’m having problems too,” Svetlana added. “My daughter needs money for a tutor. But where are we supposed to get it?”
Irina paused. School days flashed before her eyes: Alyona laughing mockingly in a fashionable blouse at her old, worn-out clothes. “Irinka, do you dress in secondhand? Or did your older sister hand down her rags?”
— “Do you remember our Irinka Sokolova?” Alyona suddenly said, and Irina tensed. “The little gray mouse from 10 ‘B’?”
— “Oh, that one… From a troubled family?” Svetlana whispered. — “Exactly. We’ll soon be just like her. Barely making ends meet.” Irina gripped her bag of tickets. Thirty-five years had passed. A whole lifetime. And yet, they were still the same.
— “Please pay your fare,” she repeated, stepping forward.
Alyona looked up, preparing to take out her wallet, then suddenly froze. Her eyes swept over Irina’s face and lingered on her badge.
— “Ira?” she asked in surprise. “Irina Sokolova?”
— “Hello. Please pay your fare,” Irina said calmly, without emotion. Only a slight crease between her brows betrayed her inner agitation.
Svetlana blinked in confusion, shifting her gaze from Irina to Alyona.
— “Are you really Irka? The one from our class?”
— “Please pay your fare,” Irina repeated, extending the terminal.
Alyona tried to smile, masking her confusion.
— “What a reunion! It’s been thirty-five years. How are you? Married? Any kids?” The bus swayed on a turn, but Irina maintained her balance confidently.
— “Thirty rubles per person.”
— “Listen, maybe out of old friendship…” Alyona lowered her voice and winked. “We were classmates, after all. Won’t you let us ride for free?”
Svetlana, as if back in school, giggled nervously in agreement.
Irina leaned in closer. She smelled of a simple deodorant and something homey, comforting.
— “For school days, the fare is double, girls.”
Alyona recoiled as if struck. Conflicting feelings flashed in her eyes – was it hurt or shame?
— “Are you serious? That was a hundred years ago. We were children,” her voice trembled.
— “Sixty rubles per person,” Irina repeated impassively.
Svetlana hurriedly rummaged in her worn-out wallet.
— “Ir, come on… It was long ago,” she said, offering a crumpled hundred. “We weren’t against you back then…”
— “No change given,” Irina snapped, taking the bill. Alyona pursed her lips. For a moment, something of the old Alyona—the queen of the schoolyard—flashed in her eyes.
— “So, you’re working as a conductor now,” she said with a hint of mockery. “And I’m in a beauty salon. As a beautician.”
Irina silently processed the second ticket.
— “Do you remember how you didn’t show up for graduation?” Svetlana suddenly asked. “We were wondering…”
— “Your ticket,” Irina replied coldly, handing over a receipt.
— “Oh, stop with the formalities!” Alyona couldn’t hold back. “We’re not strangers. Tell us, how’s life treating you?”
Irina straightened up. Her face remained expressionless; only her eyes revealed a trace of sorrow.
— “My stop is two stops away,” Alyona said before Irina could respond. “Maybe we could exchange phone numbers? Meet somewhere, reminisce about school?” — “Why?” Irina asked calmly.
That question hung in the air. The bus rocked again as it came to a stop. The doors hissed open.
— “Next stop, ‘Polyclinic’,” Irina announced, turning away from her former classmates and moving further down the aisle.
Irina resumed her work: punching tickets, answering passengers’ questions, but her thoughts were far away. The past had rushed in like a wave.
Eighth grade. Winter. A school corridor.
— “Irinka, is that your down jacket from the dump?” Alyona theatrically pinched her nose. “It stinks.” Svetka giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.
— “Don’t touch it,” someone said. “You see, she already has enough problems.”
— “Oh, come on,” Alyona waved off. “I’m just teasing. Right, Irinka?”
Irina silently pulled her tattered jacket sleeves over her hands and walked by.
The bus slowed at a traffic light. Irina glanced back at her former classmates. They whispered among themselves, occasionally glancing in her direction. Svetlana looked embarrassed, and Alyona—irritated.
Ninth grade. Spring. The schoolyard.
— “Are you going to the prom?” asked Marina, the only one who sometimes spoke to her.
— “I’m not sure yet,” Irina shrugged. — “Irinka going to prom?” Alyona interjected as she passed by. “Of course, you can’t even afford a dress. Or are you going in your school uniform?”
Svetka giggled again. A faithful echo.
— “Leave her alone,” Marina chided.
— “And why are you defending her? You’re from a poor family too?” Alyona arched her finely plucked eyebrows.
Irina turned and walked away. She never went to the prom.
— “Polyclinic stop!” Irina announced, returning to reality.
A few passengers stood up. Among them were Alyona and Svetlana.
— “We’re getting off,” Alyona said with an awkward smile. “Listen, Ir, maybe you could share your phone number after all? I’m really curious about your life.” Irina looked at her carefully.
— “Why do you need that, Alyona?”
She hesitated.
— “Well… We were classmates.”
— “We weren’t even friends in school,” Irina remarked calmly. “Why the sudden interest now?”
Svetlana shifted her weight, clearly uncomfortable.
— “Ir, we were foolish back then. Young,” she tried to smile. “Who doesn’t make mistakes in youth?”
— “Mistakes?” Irina raised an eyebrow. “You call that mistakes?”
The bus came to a stop. The doors opened.
— “Time to go,” Alyona tugged Svetlana by the sleeve. “Goodbye, Irka.”
They headed for the exit. Irina watched them leave. Inside, something tightened—a mix of hurt and pity.
Already on the steps, Alyona suddenly stopped.
— “You’re doing great, Ir,” she said unexpectedly, with genuine seriousness. “Hold on.” The doors closed. The bus started moving.
“Life holds grudges, but returns them at the right moment,” Irina thought, watching the departing women through the window.
Irina mechanically punched tickets, but the faces of her former classmates still filled her mind. The tired features of Svetlana. The strained smile of Alyona. Where was that confidence they once had as they strode through school corridors?
“Hold on. Not like us.”
Those words spun in her head, giving her no peace. What exactly did Alyona mean? That their own lives hadn’t turned out as they dreamed?
— “Miss, will you take me to the station?” an elderly woman with a large bag tugged at her hand.
— “Yes, in four stops,” Irina answered automatically. She remembered Alyona from school: always impeccably dressed, with perfect hair, wearing expensive jewelry. Her father – a store manager, her mother – a doctor. Svetlana came from a simpler background but always tried to stick close to Alyona, mimicking her manners, her attitude toward life and people.
And now? Worn-out bags, tired faces, conversations about debts.
“Life is like a boomerang: everything comes back,” her mother used to say. Especially when Irina came home upset. “Don’t worry, dear. Everything will fall into place.”
Her mother had been gone for ten years now. She hadn’t even reached retirement by two years. Burned out from jobs taken just to provide for her daughter’s education. Just to have enough to feed the family.
The bus stopped again. A young mother with a stroller entered. Irina helped her settle in and punched her ticket.
— “Thank you,” the woman smiled. Politeness costs nothing but means so much. That, too, was her mother’s lesson.
What could she tell Alyona and Svetlana? That she had married a good man who worked as a custodian? That she had two grown children—a son and a daughter? That her husband had died five years ago from a heart attack, and she had to take on extra work to support the kids?
That she hadn’t been broken, hadn’t grown bitter, hadn’t followed in her father’s footsteps?
Irina sighed. Why? What was the point of proving anything to those who once hurt her?
— “Final stop in ten minutes,” the driver announced.
The workday was coming to an end. One more round trip – and then she could meet her daughter and grandson. She had to get something tasty ready.
Irina was surprised at herself: no schadenfreude. Not a drop. Only a gentle sadness and perhaps a little pity.
She could have shown them photos of her children and grandson. Could have told her story. Could even have invited them over for tea, to listen to their stories.
But why? The past should stay where it belongs. There’s no point in reopening old wounds when energy could be used for something better.
“True justice comes quietly,” she thought with a slight smile. Maybe that was justice? In that she had managed to build a dignified life despite everything.
And they… Everyone chooses their own path.
Dusk fell over the city. The last run was ending. Only a few people remained on the bus – tired workers, students, an elderly woman with her groceries.
Irina settled into an empty seat. Her legs ached after a full day’s work. She took out her phone and checked her messages. Her daughter had written that she would be late at work but would drop by later. Her son had sent a photo from a fishing trip – smiling, holding a large perch. Irina responded with a smile.
It’s strange how one chance encounter can stir up so many memories. Like a stone thrown into a calm pond, and the ripples spread, touching one memory after another.
She remembered the pedagogical institute, meeting Sergey in the third year, her wedding at twenty-two. The birth of Dimka, and three years later – Nastya. They lived modestly, but happily. Sergey worked hard, and so did she – first as an elementary school teacher, then, when the salary wasn’t enough, she took conductor courses. The schedule allowed her to manage two jobs.
And then Sergey was gone. Suddenly, foolishly. He simply didn’t wake up one morning.
Irina brushed her hand across her face, shooing away the unwelcome thoughts. It had been five years, yet the pain still returned with every recollection.
She shifted her gaze to the window. Outside, the evening streets flowed by, shop windows glimmered, and people hurried along with their own stories of joy and sorrow.
How had life turned out for Alyona and Svetlana? According to them, not very well. Loans, job troubles, financial difficulties. Alyona mentioned the beauty salon. Likely, she now worked as a simple beautician, though in her youth she dreamed of becoming a famous designer or actress.
Irina realized she could no longer recall her childhood dreams. In her youth, her concerns were different – how to help her mother, how to get an education, how to survive.
Maybe that was her advantage? She never built castles in the air, never expected miracles. She simply did what had to be done, day in and day out.
“God helps those who help themselves,” her mother used to say. And Irina got up. She rose. She endured.
The bus pulled up to the final stop. The last passengers reached for the exit.
— “Thank you, everyone. Have a good evening,” Irina announced as usual. The driver – a young guy named Dima – turned to her:
— “Irish, you seem different today. Did something happen?”
— “No,” she shook her head. “I just met some old acquaintances. Former classmates.”
— “Was it pleasant?” he asked insightfully.
Irina pondered for a moment, choosing her words.
— “You know, I used to think that if I met them, I’d have to tell them all how well I’m doing. So they’d see they were wrong about me. But today I met them – and realized I simply don’t care.”
Dima nodded, understanding.
— “So you’ve let go of the past?” — “It seems so,” Irina smiled.
— “Sometimes the best revenge is just living your own life,” he mused. “Living in such a way that old grudges lose their meaning.”
She stepped off the bus. The air was filled with the coolness of the evening. Ahead lay her home, a family dinner, a call to her son.
A simple evening of an ordinary day.
Irina took a deep breath. Time moved on, and with it, old grudges faded, dissolving into everyday life.
