— “So this wreck is all you’ve managed to earn!” — those words lashed at Zhenya the whole way. — “What were you expecting, Zhenka? A happy life? Well done, you got what you deserve!”
She dropped her heavy bags and sank onto an old stump. It had all started so well… Or had she just been deceiving herself? Twenty years of life with Misha ended in one morning, when she came back from the night shift and saw her husband not alone, and her things neatly stacked by the door.
“Misha, what does all this mean?”
Zhenya was so stunned she didn’t even fly at the young woman strolling around their apartment in a light robe.
“It means, my dear, that I don’t want to hide anymore. I want to be with the one I love, not with you.”
“Misha, what are you saying? We’ve been together twenty years!”
“Exactly—twenty years of torment. You know perfectly well there was never any real love between us. And anyway, you forced me to marry you!”
“How’s that? What are you talking about? I thought you were different… But you’re just ordinary!”
Zhenya wanted to say that everyone seems perfect at the beginning, and then… But Misha didn’t let her finish.
“Enough, I don’t need your explanations. Pack up and go. I’ve already filed for divorce.”
“But where am I supposed to go?” Zhenya asked, bewildered.
Her husband laughed, and his new darling, clinging to his shoulder, joined in his laughter.
“Here, take these keys. This place is just right for you. You don’t deserve anything better.”
“Misha, but…”
Without letting her finish, he shoved her out the door like a stray cat and turned the key. Zhenya heard the lock click in the neighboring door and rushed downstairs. How ashamed she was! The neighbor’s words surfaced in her mind: “She’ll cry plenty with Mikhail.”
And how fiercely she had defended him back then, assuring everyone she had the perfect husband. She herself had built a cult of Misha in their home. It seemed to her that it was the right thing to do—after all, it should be like in the novels she devoured.
Her mother constantly reproached her:
“Zhenka, you read all kinds of nonsense and dream of the impossible! In real life there are no princes on white horses; they’ve all been taken since kindergarten. Better go feed the chickens and clean the pigsty.”
Zhenya wrinkled her nose and waited for the moment she could leave the village for the city, where she would surely meet her destiny. In the city she wouldn’t have to wash by hand, haul water and firewood.
And that’s how it turned out. True, it cost her some blood and nerves when Stepan found out about her plans. But Zhenya cut him off:
“I don’t want to live the way you do. I don’t—end of story!”
“So we’re living badly, huh? And Stepa isn’t good enough for you?”
“I’ve dreamed my whole life of marrying a tractor driver!”
“You know what, Zhen? Sometimes I think they mixed up the babies at the hospital. My father and I couldn’t possibly have a daughter like you!”
Zhenya snorted:
“Well, I won’t be too upset if you stop considering me your daughter. Not much of an honor—twisting cows’ tails!”
She left. She saw her mother’s eyes brimming with tears, but she left anyway. And Stepan ran to the bus stop.
“Zhenka, are you really leaving?”
Stepa was kind and she liked him a lot, but she saw no future with him. They would have stayed in the village forever.
“I hope never, Zhen! What are you saying? Well, forget about me, at least think of your parents! And my parents don’t need a daughter like that either!”
The bus pulled up. Zhenya stepped on, turned back and cried out, in despair:
“Give the girl a ride for—”
And she sat down. The sadness quickly passed, because she knew for certain—she was heading toward her happiness!
She met Mikhail at the factory where she immediately got a job. He was the head of her shop. She had to make an effort, but four months later they married. From that moment, Zhenya began to build the life she’d dreamed of.
She did renovations, hunted for a fashionable sink, mostly worked nights. Her husband hinted a couple of times that it wouldn’t hurt for her to get an education and move up from the ranks of ordinary workers. But Zhenya had no time for that—soon Misha became her idol. He, it seemed, liked the role: the outfits, the suits, the tasty breakfasts, the crystal cleanliness. And Zhenya would heave a sigh in front of her colleagues:
“Ugh!”
She didn’t go home. At first she didn’t want to, then she was ashamed that she hadn’t gone for so long. And then so many years had passed… How could she show her face there now? And who knew if everyone was still alive and well…
Zhenya stood up. According to the bus driver, she still had at least an hour to walk. It’s fine—she’d get there and lie down. And not get up again. Everything around her had collapsed, everything was broken. Maybe there had never been anything at all—it was all just the fruit of her imagination?
“Help!”
Zhenya stopped. She was walking along a country road, and a minute ago there had been no one. She turned and saw a disheveled girl running toward her, with a pack of boys behind her. Two women ran after them. Everyone was shouting.
The girl turned out to be a Gypsy, and the boys, together with the women, intended to beat her up. Zhenya stood up and grabbed a stick.
“Hey, stop! What are you planning to do?”
The boys scattered, but the women didn’t back down.
“Who are you? Step aside, we’re going to give it to her! Let her learn not to steal!”
“And what did she steal from you?”
“My sour cream—and my piece of pork fat! Shameless brat!”
Zhenya looked at them with contempt.
“You begrudged food for a child!”
She pulled out her wallet, took all the remaining bills—never mind that it was her last money—and threw them on the ground.
“Pick them up. Enough fighting over such a trifle.”
“And you, Gypsy girl, watch yourself! And you, missy, don’t you dare show up in our village again!”
“No need to side with Gypsies against respectable folks!”
The little tousled girl let go of Zhenya only when the women disappeared behind the bushes.
“Thank you!” she smiled. “It’s like you’re not afraid at all.”
“I’m just tired. I’ve been wandering a long time.”
“Why do you steal, Gypsy?”
The girl shrugged.
“Well, to be honest, we always steal. It’s our job.”
Zhenya barely held back a smile.
“And you say that so calmly?”
The girl pulled out the pork fat and bread, then produced a knife from somewhere. There appeared a green onion and, apparently, that very jar of sour cream.
“Well, are you hungry? Sit. Let’s eat. It’s not far for me, but you’ve still got a long way.”
Zhenya raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“How do you know?”
“I know everything. First, I’m a Gypsy. And second, I’m from a line of fortune-tellers.”
Zhenya laughed.
“Oh, come on! There are no fortune-tellers; it’s all made up to wring money out of people.”
The pieces of pork fat with onion looked appetizing. “So what if it’s stolen,” she thought, “I haven’t eaten anything since morning.”
“Can you tell my fortune? Only I don’t have any more money.”
The girl looked at her seriously.
“I can. But you still won’t believe it. And I’ll decide whether you’re worth trusting. Give me your hand.”
The Gypsy girl studied her palm for a long time, and when she spoke, her voice became completely different.
“Don’t regret what happened. What was, did not belong to you. It was punishment for rejecting the happiness sent from above. Now everything will return to the place where you made your mistake.”
Zhenya blinked in confusion.
“I didn’t understand anything.”
The girl looked at her and replied in her normal voice:
“You don’t need to. When the time comes, you’ll understand it all yourself. All right, I’ve got to go—need to make it before sunset.”
She briskly gathered the leftovers, hid them in invisible pockets of her long skirt, and ran down the road. Zhenya muttered:
“Strange. They’re all so strange.”
The house she finally reached was a real wreck. Only two windows still had glass, the yard was overgrown with weeds. As Zhenya understood, relatives of her husband had lived here before.
Interesting—what was she going to do here? She’d stormed off in a temper, wanted to prove something to someone? Or maybe here she would find… Fine. She’d live a few days. Or at least rest a day—and back!
She cleared the trash out of the room with intact windows, spread her own cover on the bed and lay down. But as soon as she did, tears started to flow on their own. “So that’s it: I lived twenty years and…”
She didn’t immediately hear that someone was speaking in the house.
“Anyone alive in here?”
She jumped up in fright.
“Who’s there?”
“That’s it, the end,” she thought. Who could have wandered into a house like this? Zhenya slowly opened the door.
“Who’s there?”
A broad-shouldered man, standing with his back to her, flinched.
“Oh, you scared me! That’s odd—you were just now asking if anyone was alive.”
“I was asking, but I didn’t think I’d find anyone. Sorry. I’m coming back from a hunt, my car died right by your house. I figured the place was empty—maybe I could at least spend the night…”
Zhenya straightened.
“What are you doing here, in this backwater? You know I lived in the city, I had a husband… Stepa, I’m so glad to see you! What happened? Why are you crying?”
Zhenya was sobbing out loud, unable to stop. Stepan sat her down and said:
“Since fate brought us together again, I’m not going anywhere. Tell me everything, we’ll talk.”
An hour later they were sitting at the table. Stepan took out a flask and poured its contents into plastic cups.
“Come on, Zhen, bottoms up! It’ll be easier to talk.”
Zhenya spoke without stopping, and Stepan listened attentively.
“So that’s how I threw away twenty years of my life because of my own foolishness.”
“Don’t say everything was for nothing. The main thing is to realize you took the wrong turn.”
“Today a Gypsy girl told me I shouldn’t regret anything, that I’ve returned to where I made a mistake. And there were so many mistakes I can’t even count them!”
Stepan put his hand on hers.
“Start fixing them. What’s the problem? You’ve been given a chance, and such happiness is rarely given to people.”
“I’m guilty before my parents.”
“Yes, that’s true. But I’m sure they’ll forgive you.”
Zhenya looked at him in fright.
“Are they alive and well?”
“Of course! Not as spry as before, but they’re holding up. Your mother keeps chickens and ducks.”
Zhenya burst into tears again.
“God, what a fool I am! All right, let’s go to bed, and in the morning we’ll go. We’ll return to the place you once ran away from.”
They lay down together without undressing, simply because it was warmer and calmer that way. Stepan hugged her, and Zhenya fell asleep at once.
Her mother didn’t even let her say a word. Zhenya didn’t have time to apologize before her mom hugged her and burst into tears. Zhenya understood: she’d rather die than leave her parents again.
It was as if the village had forgotten she’d once run away and hadn’t visited for many years. People greeted her, said she’d blossomed and grown prettier.
In two days her soul began to thaw. Zhenya tried to help her mother with the chores, but her mother just waved her off:
“Rest up after the city!”
And Zhenya was resting as it was. In her room everything remained as before: not a speck of dust, fresh linens. Her mother, it seemed, refreshed everything regularly. She’d been waiting…
On the third day, even before dawn, someone tapped on the window. Zhenya jumped up in fright. Stepan’s head appeared in the window.
“Why so scared? Get dressed, we’re going fishing. I brought a rod for you.”
Zhenya laughed softly. Exactly like more than twenty years ago, he used to wake her for fishing. Whether she wanted to or not—it didn’t matter to him. She climbed out the window and pressed herself to him.
“Stepka, you’re so… amazing!”
He looked at her seriously.
“You didn’t think so before.”
Zhenya smiled.
“Before I was a fool, and now I’ve gotten smarter.”
“How about marrying me?”
Zhenya became serious.
“If you ask me, maybe I will.”
And immediately she laughed.
“If you can catch me!”
She dashed toward the river. She didn’t care that she would turn forty-two in three days. Right now she was that same young girl who had once made so many mistakes.
And a year later she was already rocking baby Yegorka…
I hope you enjoyed the story! If it’s not too much trouble, please give it a thumbs up! Thank you, and all the best!
