— Vera… I got hit on the road, — Gleb suddenly called his wife. She had just finished clearing the breakfast table and was about to start preparing lunch. Gleb had asked her to make his favorite salad, but it turned out they were out of the main ingredient. She had to go to the store for nuts. Now, hearing her husband’s voice on the phone, Vera regretted sending him shopping. In her mind, she pictured a motorcycle or car rushing toward him, and now, barely alive, he was calling her with the last of his strength.
— Oh God, Gleb! Are you alive? Are you okay? Just don’t pass out, I’ll… I’ll call an ambulance right now. Tell me where you are! — trembling all over, she dropped the vegetables she had prepared for the salad on the stove and rushed to the window. It turned out her husband hadn’t gone far: Gleb was sitting on a flower bed holding his leg.
“Phew, alive,” flashed through her mind. Vera ran out of the apartment toward her husband.
— Did you manage to memorize the car number? How are you? Are you badly hurt? Where does it hurt? — she bombarded her pale husband with questions.
— What car? It hurts here. The whole leg… — he mumbled.
— Well, the one that hit you? You can check the cameras if needed. Or was it a motorcycle?
— No, I was run over by a scooter.
Vera stared at her husband. She imagined some courier with a huge bag or a man speeding who had crashed into her husband.
— Yeah, they speed around, I saw it on TV. — sympathized the wife. — Could have seriously injured you… So, it hit you and left? Didn’t even ask if you needed help?
— Where would he go? — Gleb nodded to the right. Vera looked closer.
— I don’t see. Where?
— What? Have you gone blind, wife? There he is! — Gleb whispered hoarsely, pointing at a boy about five years old. — I might have a fracture. Or a crack.
Vera stared at the scooter with a bell and at the “culprit”: the boy’s helmet was crooked, and he stood there confused and scared.
— Gleb, a child “hit” you?! — Vera asked again.
— Not a child, but a little devil! He ran his wheel over my bone! I need to go to the trauma center. Immediately!
Hearing this, the boy started crying. His mother came running and began apologizing. Vera tried to calm things down:
— It’s his first time on a scooter today; he’s still learning, he didn’t mean it. Please forgive us…
— Gleb, he really didn’t do it on purpose…
— You just didn’t hear how it cracked! There could have been another child or an old lady! — Gleb cut her off. — Now I’ll be disabled, and they apologize, and you’re on the side of these negligent parents. Great!
— I’m not on their side at all! I’m always on your side! Let’s go to the trauma center.
— My husband would take him, but he left… — the boy’s mother whimpered.
— I have a car, don’t worry, — Vera said, taking Gleb’s arm and helping him up.
— Why did you refuse? — Gleb muttered. — They could have paid for a taxi! Or gas!
Vera silently changed clothes, gathered all the documents, took her husband, and sorted everything at the registration. Waiting for the “verdict,” Gleb sat on a chair telling some unfamiliar elderly woman in detail how the scooter rider had injured him.
— Yeah, I know how reckless they are! TV keeps showing accidents with them!
— And now I have to walk with a cast…
— Sinitsyn? The X-ray is ready, — a nurse peeked out of the office. — Your leg is intact. Everything is fine.
— Really?! — Gleb looked at the nurse in surprise, then at his wife.
— Thank God it’s okay. Let’s go! — Vera sighed with relief, but Gleb limped around the apartment all evening, lamenting that not everything shows up on the X-ray.
Vera still made the salad, but Gleb didn’t feel better.
The next day he said:
— We have to talk to that boy’s parents. They should know what kind of person their son is growing up to be.
— Gleb, maybe it’s not necessary?.. They’ve already apologized… — Vera tried to object.
— That’s not enough! Let them pay for raising such a reckless kid. How much did we spend on the X-ray yesterday?
— It was free…
— But for gas! And for nerves. No, I’m going. And you’re coming with me, to support!
Vera took off her apron and shook her head. She didn’t dare let her husband go alone. She went.
The boy’s mother met them in the hallway. Vera stood with an awkward smile, while Gleb forcefully talked about moral damage and potential disability. The woman blushed, and the boy hid behind her.
— Okay, enough. What do you want? — finally, the boy’s father came out of the room. Vera saw a two-meter tall burly man and realized the forces were unequal.
— Nothing, Gleb, let’s go. My husband just wanted to tell you to make your son more careful, — Vera explained.
— We got it. Hope that’s it. — The man slammed the door in Gleb’s and Vera’s faces.
— Why did you interfere? — Gleb looked at Vera with displeasure. — I would’ve dealt with him myself.
“And I’d have come out of there with a real fracture,” Vera thought, recalling the boy’s father.
Vera slept poorly that night. She dreamed of scooters, the nurse’s look at the trauma center, her husband’s sighs, and how the boy’s father stood up for his family. She woke up in a cold sweat.
Fortunately, the next morning everything returned to normal.
Her husband went to work, and she started tutoring. It was summer, Vera was on vacation.
— So? How was your day? — she asked her husband in the evening while serving dinner. — Settled in the new place?
— You wouldn’t believe it. It’s just hell. They hate people there. The boss is a narcissist. Colleagues sabotage. I’m not working there—I’m surviving. Every penny has to be fought for.
— What’s wrong?
— I asked for an advance, and they told me I hadn’t earned it yet!
— But it’s been half a month already, — Vera’s eyes widened. Their family counted on that money.
— Yeah! They said according to their rules, salary is paid once a month.
— Well… we’ll tighten our belts. — Vera said. — I’ll take on more students. Hang in there…
— I lasted. But I quit. I can’t work with those rats, — Gleb announced.
— Quit? Well… — Vera still supported him, as always. She nodded, said “you did the right thing,” and even offered to look for a new job together. The next day her mother, who came to visit, asked:
— Vera, don’t you think your husband just doesn’t want to work?
Vera immediately flared up:
— Mom, what kind of conclusions are those? He has a difficult character. And he’s just sensitive. People around are mean and greedy. The boss gives his word and takes it back. And it’s like that at every job!
— Exactly, Vera! It’s like that at every job. And at every turn. Gleb is just like that, not others. He needs to find reasons in himself, not in others.
— Mom! Let’s not. I don’t want to discuss him. He’s my husband.
Her mother shut up, but the next day, while washing dishes, Vera suddenly thought: how many such “terrible” jobs have there been? Five? Six? And it was always someone else’s fault. The saddest thing was that her mother had a point.
The turning point happened on Saturday. They were going to visit her mother-in-law, and Gleb went out earlier to take out the trash bags. On his way was the ill-fated playground. There, unfortunately—or fortunately—that same boy was playing, with a small white dog with a bow on its neck. The boy was playing, throwing a ball to the dog. The dog barked and ran around the yard. At one of those throws, the ball landed right at Gleb’s feet. Gleb froze. His face twisted.
— Gleb, are we leaving? — Vera came out of the house by then.
— Leaving?! Are you just going to leave it like this?!
— What exactly? — Vera didn’t understand.
— They dirtied my white pants! — He bent down and kicked the ball. The dog thought he was playing and rushed to him, barking loudly.
— This dog must be rabid. See how it’s growling at me? It’ll jump on me soon. Get the dog away! Immediately! — He started yelling and stepped toward the dog to push it away. Vera ran out of the car and stood between them.
— Step back, Vera. I’m going to deal with this mutt now…
— Don’t touch it. It’s just barking. Small. Not dangerous!
The boy’s mother and the dog’s owner were running up, looking worried.
— Will you train your offspring (he really said it differently), or what? — he shouted, flaring his nostrils. — If not, they should be locked up!
— Sir, you’re the one who should be locked up! Stop shouting!
— You…
— Gleb, let’s go. — Vera tried, but he snapped at his wife:
— What? Now you’re on their side? For these brainless curs?
— Gleb! — Vera raised her voice.
— Ma’am, will you take him away? Or shall I call my husband… — said the boy’s mother.
Vera didn’t answer. She decided she wasn’t going to participate anymore. She just turned and left. And suddenly… Gleb stopped yelling, surprised by his wife’s behavior. He quickly turned and hurried after Vera.
They walked home silently. Vera felt something inside her changing. Something strange, irreversible. That evening she remembered how he talked about colleagues—“rotten,” neighbors—“stupid,” sellers—“liars,” mother-in-law—“grumpy and biased,” drivers on the road—“cripples.” Everyone around was bad. Everyone except him, Gleb. And then Vera realized it was a system. He was always right. Always the center of the tragedy. And always expected her to stand by, hold his hand, protect, pity, justify.
— Why did you leave?
— Because this is your personal business. I have nothing against dogs.
— And against the neighbor’s stupidity?
— For now, there’s only one stupid neighbor on my mind.
Gleb didn’t understand whom she meant. And if he did… he probably would have been offended.
Her husband didn’t change. He made no conclusions either, but when Vera stopped pitying and supporting him, Gleb noticed. At first he was surprised. Then he started reproaching:
— You’ve changed. You don’t support me anymore. What happened to you?
She didn’t justify herself. Because it was true—she had changed. She no longer wanted to be a stone wall. Didn’t want to fight the whole world for other people’s offenses, ambitions, and bad temper. Vera wanted to be married. But the one married all this time apparently wasn’t her.
Gleb didn’t understand the reason for her behavior. He decided it was all because of her coldness.
— Our family means nothing to you, Vera. You’re probably just like everyone else… Mercenary and cold.
— Yeah, maybe, — she said, pointing to the door.
Gleb left. To the one who “understands and pities.” Another woman became his “support and hope.” Her name was now Nadya. Vera learned about this later. But she didn’t feel sorry. Not even for ten years of marriage.
— Hmm… There was Vera, now there’s Nadezhda, — her mother muttered after hearing the news about her former son-in-law. — What’s next?
— No, Mom. Not Lyubov. He always had love. Only for himself, not for others.
They looked at each other and laughed. Surprisingly, after her husband left, life became easier for her.
Like a weight that was dragging her down finally “fell off.”
“Good riddance,” she said, looking at photos of her husband on social media. Apparently, he was planning to get married again… Let him. Vera would definitely find her happiness. But no longer with him.
