The queue at the clinic was moving very slowly. Elderly women would go into the ENT doctor’s office and disappear for almost an hour. Dima was noticeably nervous. At work, no one would pat him on the head for being away so long. He purposely stood near the door so that no quick old lady could slip in ahead of him again, like what just happened. Well, at least that lady didn’t stay long. And finally, it was Dima’s turn in the office.
The nurse, seeing who came in, snorted amusedly and began filling out the charts. The pretty, slim doctor with a simple ponytail and no makeup smiled.
“So, what hurts this time, young man?”
“My ear is shooting pains,” Dmitry said, sitting down on the chair.
“Well then, let’s take a look at your ear.”
The pretty doctor in a white coat approached the patient, and he forgot which ear to hold out—the right or the left. In fact, nothing really hurt him. Both he and the doctor knew that. This was already his third visit to this office this week. All because Natalia Viktorovna stubbornly refused to go to a café with him. And she wouldn’t let him walk her home. Dima was persistent. Doctor Natalia Viktorovna—whom he had long called Natasha in his mind—had firmly settled in his heart. That’s why he dragged himself to the clinic as if to work. Sitting through long lines just to see her. And in the evenings, he would wait near the clinic gates. Natasha saw him, furrowed her thick light eyebrows sternly, and ran away, not allowing him to walk her even to the bus stop.
“Your ear is healthy, Dmitry,” Natalia Viktorovna said. “You are a very persistent young man. Okay, after work, we’ll go to a café, but only because you’re taking up my time. Mine and other patients’—real ones who need help.”
Dmitry blossomed.
“Alright, I won’t waste anyone’s time anymore,” he said, standing up. “I’ll be waiting for you by the gate, as always, at six.”
Natalia Viktorovna left the clinic at fifteen minutes past six. She smiled slightly upon seeing Dima’s tall figure by the gate. A good guy, apparently, but a bit clueless. Today she would open his eyes.
“Where are we going, Dima?” the woman asked businesslike as they left the gate.
The guy stuck out his elbow, offering her his arm. Natasha took it, and they walked slowly down the street.
“I know a good place,” Dima said. “Sometimes I have dinner there. The food is tasty, and the coffee is excellent.”
Dima wasn’t lying. The café really did cook well. Natasha ordered a huge portion of Uzbek pilaf and a vegetable salad. She ate with great pleasure and appetite. Dima watched and marveled while the woman laughed.
“Yes, Dmitry, I eat a lot. It’s called ‘not feeding the horse.’ No matter how much I eat, I never gain weight.”
“But that’s good, Natasha,” the guy said, calling her by name for the first time.
He decided it was time to switch to the informal “you” and begin his advance. Carefully, he took Natalia’s hand. She didn’t pull away, only looked at him mockingly.
“Dima, how old are you anyway?” she suddenly asked.
“I’m twenty-three. Why?”
“Nothing. It’s a wonderful age. The only sad thing is that you chose a very grown-up woman to court. I’m forty-three.”
Natasha said this with a smile, expecting Dima to be surprised and immediately withdraw his hand. That didn’t happen. The guy didn’t move, but it was obvious he was surprised. His eyes blinked.
Dmitry tried hard not to show he was stunned. He had been coming to the clinic so long, unable to get Natalia Viktorovna out of his head. He guessed she was older, but by five years at most. But twenty years? It was hard to believe someone at forty-three could look like that. Not a single wrinkle on her face, thick hair tied back in a ponytail, and a figure like a girl’s. Dima got scared. He seemed about to back down, but then thought that despite the age difference, he still wouldn’t be able to get Natasha out of his head. Every day started with thoughts of her.
“It doesn’t matter, Natasha,” Dima squeezed her hand tighter. “Personally, it doesn’t scare me at all.”
“Oh, come on, it doesn’t scare you,” the woman laughed. “I saw how your eyes blinked.”
“I was surprised, yes, I admit. But not scared. I’d be more scared if you had a husband. As far as I know, you don’t.”
“I had one once,” Natalia withdrew her hand. “I did, but it didn’t work out.”
“Then he wasn’t the right man, and I’m your man.”
“Oh, what a man you’ve found,” Natalia laughed, but did let him walk her home. That day and the next. She was very surprised that despite learning about the big age difference, the guy didn’t back down. It flattered her—how could it not flatter a young, handsome guy’s attention when you’ve been lonely for so long and hopelessly?
It turned out Dmitry was lonely too. He was raised by his grandmother, who died a couple of years ago. So, two lonely souls found each other. When Natasha and Dima were out together, going to the movies, cafés, or walking the street, people didn’t look at them reproachfully. The age difference was almost unnoticeable.
Natasha’s colleagues knew the difference. They joked, whispered, but stayed silent. They stayed silent until Natasha announced she was marrying Dima. Then many began to try to dissuade the woman from the unequal marriage.
“Natalia Viktorovna, forgive me, but he could be your son,” said one nurse once.
“So what,” Natasha replied. “It should scare him, not me.”
The woman responded calmly to all such barbs, and inside, spring bloomed.
“It doesn’t matter how long we’ll be together,” the woman reasoned. “What matters is that I’m happy now. Don’t I deserve to grab my piece of happiness?”
At work, Dmitry was teased much harsher.
“What, grandma’s gone, so you decided to get a mom?”
One of the colleagues got punched in the eye by Dima for that joke.
Anyway, the wedding took place. A wedding without guests. Dima and Natasha celebrated their marriage alone, knowing few would sincerely wish them happiness and long years together. They didn’t mind. They were fine alone. They started living in Natasha’s apartment. Dima hadn’t saved enough for his own place yet.
Natalia was not selfish and understood that a young guy needed a real family, children. Trying to “jump on the last wagon” at forty-three, she tried to get pregnant. She tried for three whole years. And by forty-six, she realized it probably wasn’t meant to be. But with Dima, it was good. He never blamed her, never mentioned children. From the outside, they looked like a very harmonious couple. Even acquaintances had long accepted their marriage.
So, in peace and harmony, they lived for ten years until Natalia seriously fell ill. It started with back problems but ended with her bedridden. Acquaintances began to bet on how fast the young husband would run away from his aging wife. How long would he last beside a bedridden spouse?
Dima lasted a year, two, three. And he didn’t just last, but did everything necessary to get Natasha back on her feet. He learned how to give injections, set IVs, drove her to treatments, always carried her into the office. People were amazed by the strength of spirit and love of this couple.
Dmitry did not give up or run away. And he did get his wife back on her feet.
Natasha got up but no longer looked like her old self. The illness had worn her out, drained all her strength. The woman who once looked like a girl now looked her age, if not older. Grey hairs in her locks, figure no longer slim but painfully thin. Her face with tired eyes revealed her age abundantly.
This happened before Dima’s eyes, and the man seemed not to notice the changes in his wife. Others did. Now, this couple was often mistaken for mother and son on the streets. It was very painful for Natasha. She suffered every time it happened. Dima comforted her.
“Natash, don’t pay attention to people. What’s changed between you and me? I still love you and will always be near.”
“Maybe I don’t want you near anymore?” Natasha said one day. “Don’t think badly of me, Dima. I was very happy with you. Our love was real. But now I feel very bad. Bad from people’s looks and judgment. I don’t want this. You’re a young man, not even forty yet, and I have become much wiser. As if with changing appearance, my brain aged too. I see clearly that I’ve taken all your best years. You can still marry and have children. Don’t argue, Dima. This is not a hasty decision—I thought about it long. I come from a village, and I have a house there. I know they need a paramedic there. I’ll leave, Dima, and I’ll leave you the apartment. But first, we’ll get divorced.”
“Natalya, no! That won’t happen. What nonsense are you talking about? What changed between us? You look older, but I don’t notice. I don’t care, I love you the same.”
“I knew you’d say that,” the woman smiled. “But I already filed for divorce and called the village. If I work as a paramedic there, they promised to repair the house. I’ve decided everything, Dima.”
Dmitry tried for a long time to persuade his wife. He thought he succeeded. Natasha stopped talking about leaving. But one day, returning home after work, Dima found a deed to the apartment in his name on the table and a note.
“My dear Dimochka, thank you for the happy years of life, for not leaving me in a difficult moment and helping me get on my feet. Without you, I couldn’t have done it. Don’t think I’m sad. I just no longer have the strength to be the wife of a young man. You must marry and have children. That will make me happy.”
Dmitry was horrified. Not ready to part with his wife, he started recalling the name of the village she left for. It was strange, but having lived with her so many years, he didn’t know the village’s name. Natasha never told him, possibly on purpose.
The man didn’t despair. For several months, he traveled around nearby settlements, visited paramedic points in many villages, but didn’t find Natasha. The divorce happened without her presence, at her request. Realizing he had lost her for good, Dima got drunk. Drank so much he lost his passport and hit a colleague who congratulated him on the successful divorce and acquisition of the apartment. He had to change jobs and his passport. A new life began, completely different, with a new circle of friends and without stamps in his passport.
A year and a half later, Dima met Kristina. The woman looked a lot like Natasha but was five years younger than Dmitry himself. They dated only a few months before Kristina got pregnant. Maybe she did it deliberately because she liked Dima and time was pressing; she wanted to have a child already. As an honest man, Dmitry proposed to Kristina. He only reproached himself for never telling his new wife about his first marriage. It was something secret, personal, and too private. The second wife only knew he had been married before but didn’t suspect the age difference or reasons for divorce, nor did she pry into her husband’s soul.
Seven months after the wedding, Kristina gave birth to twins—a boy and a girl. Only then did the man realize he was happy again. Happy as he once was with Natasha, before she fell ill. He loved Kristina, loved his children.
The twins were already five years old when one Sunday Dima took them to an amusement park. Kristina didn’t come, deciding to do a general cleaning while the little “piglets” were not home.
Dmitry sat the kids on a carousel, carefully checked the seat belts, and stepped aside. He watched the laughing twins when he accidentally saw a slim figure hiding behind a tree deep in the park. He hadn’t seen the figure clearly yet, but his heart started beating nervously, as if sensing…
Walking around the carousel, the man decided to approach Natasha so she wouldn’t notice and run away. And it was Natasha. She was standing, leaning against the tree trunk, watching the kids on the carousel. Seeing Dima approach, she blushed but it was too late to hide.
Natasha had aged even more over the years. Before Dima stood a real grandmother. Her half-gray hair was no longer tied in a ponytail but pinned up at the nape. Her thin figure slightly stooped, and fine wrinkles spread like cobwebs from her eyes. Dima didn’t care; approaching close, he hugged the woman.
“How did you find me here?” he asked.
“I followed you from your apartment. Sorry, Dima, I just really wanted to see you and your kids. They look so much like you. I’m so happy for you. Forgive me, I came to the city for a short while and couldn’t resist seeing how you live.”
“I’m doing well, but I betrayed you, Natasha. I never told my new wife about you. I even lied that the apartment came from my aunt, who decided to move to the village.”
“Really, Dima? You said that?” Natalia looked into the man’s face. “You did the right thing. Listen, if I’m your aunt now, then let me be one more? I want so much to meet your children.”
Kristina had just finished cleaning the nursery and was about to start washing floors when she heard noise in the hallway. She frowned. Dima and the kids came home earlier than expected and didn’t let her finish cleaning. Kristina came out and was surprised to see an elderly woman next to Dmitry.
“Meet Kristina, this is my aunt Natalia Viktorovna. The same one who left me this apartment.”
“Excuse me,” Natalia Viktorovna said shyly. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’m only in town for a couple of days and stayed at a hotel.”
“What nonsense? Are you out of your mind?” Kristina exclaimed. “No hotels. You have to stay with us. We’ve been together so many years, and he never introduced me to you. Come in, come in, we’re about to eat.”
Dmitry felt very awkward when Kristina persuaded Natalia to stay overnight in the children’s room. But Natalia herself wasn’t embarrassed at all. The entire time she was there, she fussed over the children. And when leaving, she suggested:
“Maybe next weekend you’ll come to the village? It would be good for the kids to breathe fresh air. Besides, I have my own cow and chickens. They probably haven’t tasted fresh milk.”
Dima didn’t even have time to think before Kristina agreed.
“We’ll definitely come, Natalia Viktorovna. Definitely. I used to spend all my summers at my grandmother’s.”
Until the next weekend, Dmitry hoped Kristina would forget about the trip, but she spoke seriously.
“What, Dima, we promised Natalia Viktorovna. Besides, the kids are attached to her. We have to go.”
On Saturday evening in the village Dima never managed to reach before, Kristina was picking strawberries near the house while the happy, dirty twins ran around their mother, more hindering than helping.
Natalia came up to Dima standing a bit aside and touched his elbow.
“Dima, I see you feel uncomfortable. Of course, we’re temporary, but we’re not doing anything bad. I haven’t felt a man in you for a long time, nor have you felt a woman in me. But I love you, and this is a different kind of love. No less strong than the love between a woman and a man. I like your wife, and don’t think you’re betraying her. And I really love your children. I’ll be happy if they visit me.”
Without looking, Dmitry found Natalia’s hand on his elbow and squeezed it tightly. That handshake said more than words.
Natalia was right. He loved her too. But differently now, not like before. This love became warm, familial, but no less strong.
