In the half-empty apartment, it was unusually quiet. Grigory opened the door with his key and entered, not warning anyone that he would return so soon. A sharp gust of wind pulled the front door inward and slammed it shut. It was a dull, muffled sound. Only the small window seemed surprised at the return of the owner, saying «Haa-aa-k,» and immediately returning to its usual place.
Grisha took a few steps down the hallway. Everyone should have been home by eight o’clock, but there were no familiar things in their usual spots in the room. The bare walls, the pictures and photographs had been taken down; the windows were without curtains and the usual flower pots; the sofa was covered with a sheet; the table was overturned in the corner. Only the old shoes of his son were standing by the door, and even the doormat was not in its usual place. The shoes were too small for the boy now, but his wife never could bring herself to give them away—they reminded her of something. Grisha had brought these leather shoes back from a business trip. His son wouldn’t let go of them and wore them all spring, then fall, until they became too small.
For reassurance, Grisha even called out to his wife: — Masha.
Silence.
The neighbor downstairs turned on the television, and a tenor began to sing beautifully. In the half-empty apartment, the voice echoed and grew louder.
Grisha threw a bouquet of flowers and a plush rabbit onto the stool by the empty coat rack and went into the kitchen. The table was empty, the windowsill bare, and the microwave was missing from its usual place. Something crunched under his boots. Grisha turned on the light.
At first, he thought it was sunflower seed shells, but no, it was cockroaches. There were a few in the sink as well. He couldn’t see any alive, only motionless, elongated seed-like bodies with antennae.
— Irina Sergeyevna, do you know if Masha and Sasha are home yet? I thought I’d call now, but she isn’t answering, — Grigory dialed his mother-in-law’s number.
— They’re home, didn’t you call your mother? Where else would they be? I talked to her about ten minutes ago, — replied his mother-in-law, and with a hint of anxiety, she asked, — When will they discharge you? Have they made the prosthetic?
Grigory looked down at his shoes and answered:
— Yes. I still walk badly, getting used to it.
— Come home soon, Grisha, the house and the walls will heal you, we’re waiting for you.
— Yes, as soon as they discharge me, I’ll call.
Grigory threw the phone onto the stool next to him and nodded his head:
— I can see how much you miss me, how much you’re waiting.
Grigory took off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack. In the hallway mirror, an entirely gray-haired old man stared back at him. Grisha was even frightened. It was as though a stranger was standing in front of him. There hadn’t been a full-length mirror anywhere over the past year, and not even a small one—it hadn’t been necessary.
Grisha went into the bathroom, but he didn’t look at the small round mirror. He turned on the tap and splashed water on his face. The hot water burned his face uncomfortably, and that once familiar feeling still caused discomfort. He looked around and opened the cabinet: there was no soap, and no towels either. In the wardrobe, his clothes were in their usual place. They smelled like home, peace, and the future.
Grigory rarely called his wife. Only in the hospital, when they allowed it, did he call. He didn’t tell her immediately about becoming a cripple. Grisha hadn’t been ready for it either, but his wife took the news too calmly and said:
— You’re alive! That’s the most important thing to me, come back, I’m your wife. Through sorrow and joy, remember?
She had laughed then, and Grisha only smirked in response. But now, in the hallway, when neither his wife nor his child was in the apartment, it was clear—she had left. Grisha went into the room and sat on the couch. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily.
No, he didn’t blame her, the woman closest and dearest to his heart. He understood that her whole life was ahead of her, he just probably wished that she had told him earlier. Their phone conversations hadn’t revealed her intentions, on the contrary, they were comforting. Masha always chose such warm and needed words, encouraging him and believing in him. He had only protected himself for the sake of his loved ones, and now this.
He had rushed so much, wanted to return so badly, to hug her and his son, to give her a bouquet of her favorite flowers, and to hand Sasha the rabbit. He had watched so many such videos while he was on his way home.
Grisha closed his eyes and almost immediately fell asleep. Half an hour later, there was a barely perceptible whistle, a quiet rustle that grew louder, then changed to a grinding sound. Grisha immediately opened his eyes, ready to fall to the floor, a reflex he’d developed over the past year.
The front door opened. His wife immediately saw the flowers and the toy on the stool.
— Grisha! — Masha cried and rushed first to the kitchen, then into the room, holding some package in her hands, not putting it down. She didn’t even let him stand, throwing herself to his feet and bursting into tears.
— Why didn’t you warn me, why didn’t you say you were coming?
Grigory took her hat off her head and put it beside her. How he missed her hair, her scent, so familiar and necessary, like air. He pulled her to him and hugged her.
Masha finally managed to get up and sat beside him to hug him too.
— I wanted to surprise you, but it turns out you surprised me, — he smiled. — I came home, and it was empty, only Sasha’s boots were by the door.
— I killed the cockroaches! We cleaned everything up and moved to your parents’ place for a few days. — Masha wiped her tears, smearing mascara on her cheeks. — I came to clean everything. We poisoned them with the neighbors, there was no saving from those red ones, I told you.
— You told me, — Grisha remembered. — And for a moment, I thought you had left me.
— What?! — his wife protested, smiling. — How’s it going— we don’t abandon our own?
— Yeah.
— Okay. No need to sit. Let’s go to your parents, they’re waiting for you too. — Masha looked at his feet. — I’ll call a taxi, let me help, — she fell on her knees in front of him and began to put on his shoes.
— No need, Masha, I can do it myself, I’ve trained.
— Oh, how happy I am, how happy that you’re back. Sasha said yesterday that he dreamed of you and a teddy bear. He could feel it.
— Then let’s go buy a teddy bear, I brought a rabbit.
— We’ll buy it later, later.
— Should we take a bouquet to your mother in the flower shop?
— What about these roses?
— These for you?
— For me too, later, thank you, dear. First to mom. Everything for mom.
Masha took the phone to call a taxi.
— Maybe we’ll take a walk, it’s just two stops, — Grisha suggested.
— We’ll walk in the summer, Grigory, but for now, I’ll take you, — she smiled.
