Uma, when she found out about the move, didn’t even try to hide her delight.
“See? You’ll snag yourself a man right away.”
“How can you say that!”
“What? He’s a widower, and you’re basically one too. Don’t miss your chance, girlfriend!”
Olga felt uncomfortable: did other people think that way too? Why do people jump to thoughts like that?
Lyuba’s father turned out to be just as kind and talkative.
“Oh, we’ve got a spare room anyway—I keep waiting for grandkids, but Lyubka decided to study, and law school at that. Scared off all the poor suitors! Stay as long as you need. Pavel told me himself what a valuable employee he’s landed. Says you actually know a thing or two about this business! Our Pavlik’s a dreamer; once he gets an idea…”
Olga’s life changed. Here, with strangers, she felt freer than she had at her friend’s place: Uma kept saying everything was no big deal and she could use anything. And then she’d lecture her daughter that Olga hadn’t used the right shampoo. Lyuba, on the other hand, laid everything out at once: this is mine, this is shared, and that over there is Dad’s—better not touch it, it’s really nasty! They agreed to take turns cooking and to buy groceries as they were able. In short, everything could be discussed and agreed upon.
Igor, Lyuba’s father, worked for the Ministry of Emergency Situations (EMERCOM) and told Olga so many stories! After his stories, Olga’s own life didn’t seem so bad. After all—she was alive, she’d basically escaped that illness, and as for how her husband had shown himself—well, fine; she would finally get to live for herself, since she’d done nothing but handle his affairs before. Her only regret was that she hadn’t had children.
With her help, the café began bringing in a modest profit; before that, Pavel Andreyevich had been almost operating at a loss.
“Olga, you’re a fairy!” he would say. “What would I do without you! And Lyuba is our angel—I’ve always said her kind soul would save many people. Igor grumbles that the girl picked law, says it’s no job for a woman, but I say—it’s exactly where she belongs!”
Talking with Andrei wasn’t as fascinating as with Igor, but it was funny: he was always joking, dreaming up all sorts of nonsense, wishing for the impossible. Maybe her husband had been right that men like that aren’t cut out for business—but for friendship, they certainly are. Olga had never been friends with men before; her husband would never have allowed it. And now, you could say she had two male friends.
“So, have you roped Igor in yet?” Uma asked over the phone one day.
Olga felt a wave of discomfort. As if she’d planned to rope anyone in.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then you’ll end up high and dry again… Don’t drag it out—march him down the aisle and that’s that.”
After that, Olga almost stopped talking to her friend. She realized their philosophies were too different. She didn’t intend to snag anyone, and she wasn’t going to take advantage of other people’s kindness: she worked at the café as much as she could and did a lot around the house. She had even started looking for a room of her own, but Lyuba took offense.
“Listen,” Andrei said one day. “Lyuba’s birthday is on Saturday—will you help me buy her a present? Igor says she likes perfume. But I don’t know which kind. Give me a hand, will you?”
That evening Olga casually questioned Lyuba and found out she liked classics that reminded her of her mother, but wanted a touch of something modern. Not an easy brief, so she had to go with Andrei to the store—he wouldn’t have been able to explain to the consultant what he needed.
In the shop, for the first time in a long while, Olga felt like a woman again: her clothes no longer hung on her; she’d managed to put some weight back on, and Lyuba had recently covered her gray with a supermarket dye—it turned out well. And there was a gallant man by her side—opening doors for her, offering his arm.
At the moment they were deciding between two perfumes—one Olga preferred, the other Andrei—Edik called out to her: the ex-husband who wasn’t really a husband at all.
“Olya?”
She almost dropped the bottle in surprise.
“You look good. What are you doing here?”
Andrei stepped forward and asked,
“And you are…?”
“I’m her husband. And who are you?”
“As far as I know, Olga doesn’t have a husband. Yet.”
And he deliberately took her arm. Olga didn’t flinch and leaned against his shoulder. Edik snorted and moved off.
“Thank you,” Olga whispered. “Let him not think no one needs me.”
“What do you mean, ‘no one needs you’? I need you,” Andrei said, looking into her eyes.
She blushed but didn’t look away.
“Which perfume are we getting?” she asked.
“Both.”
Andrei paid for the perfumes at the register and asked for them to be wrapped in separate bags. He handed one to Olga.
“This is for you…”
Until Lyuba’s birthday, they had to hide the perfume. And at work, when talking with Andrei, Olga no longer knew how to behave. Then Edik wrote: “I was a fool; forgive me. There are problems at the café, and with my health, too. Do I have a chance to earn your forgiveness?”
“You’ve got a new wife now, a young one,” Olga replied.
“She wants kids. I didn’t hold her back—I let her go.”
That was the last straw. To him, a wife was like a little dog on a leash. If he wanted to, he let her go; if he wanted to, he called her back.
Olga blocked his number.
“So, the ex wrote to you?” Andrei asked.
“How did you guess?”
“Well, it’s obvious—women like you aren’t something you just throw away.”
“He wrote,” Olga said.
“And you?”
“I blocked him.”
Andrei smiled.
“That’s right. Will you go on a date with me?”
“I will,” Olga didn’t play hard to get.
When Lyuba found out, she said to her father,
“You let a woman like that slip away!”
Igor spread his hands.
“I already had the very best woman—and she gave me a daughter. What more do I need? And it’s high time Pashka settled down…”
Olga made up with Uma. After all, her friend hadn’t abandoned her in trouble. She kept in touch with Lyuba and Igor and was always grateful to them. Igor, by the way, found another perfect woman. But that’s a whole other story.
