“Eggs like cardboard again,” Denis complained, poking at his breakfast with a fork. “Was selling ice cream the only thing they taught you at that little kiosk of yours?”
“Most people start the day by saying ‘Good morning,’ not by delivering a report on a burnt breakfast,” she replied, placing a mug in front of him before sitting across the table.
“Good?” He gave a mocking snort. “Do you even understand whose apartment you’re sitting in? Who brought you here?”
“I remember. A train, two suitcases, and a promise that everything would be fine.”
Sonia was sitting in the corner of the kitchen with a handful of felt-tip pens, the tip of her tongue sticking out in concentration. On the sheet of paper, she had drawn a woman with enormous wings. Beneath it, in crooked letters, she had written: “My strong mommy.”
“Daddy, look! This is Mommy flying,” the little girl said, holding up the picture.
“Oh, she’s flying, all right,” Denis replied without even turning around. “With the salary she earns, she can only afford to walk.”
“Denis, she’s a child,” his wife said quietly. “Why would you say that in front of her?”
“What, I’m not allowed to tell the truth in front of her? The truth is that I’m the only one carrying this entire household. Whose name is the mortgage in? Mine. Whose name is the car in? Mine. Meanwhile, you bring home pennies from that paper-pushing job of yours and still act like you’re too good for everything.”
“I’m not acting like I’m too good for anything. I’m only asking you to speak to me like I’m a human being.”
“I am speaking to you like a human being.” He pushed his plate away. “If you weren’t one, I wouldn’t bother talking to you at all.”
She cleared the table, took Sonia to kindergarten, and then went to work at the cramped little office that always smelled of paper and other people’s troubles. There, too, an invisible belt seemed to tighten around her a little more every day.
“You’re four minutes late again,” her boss greeted her, tapping a pen against his desk. “Do you think this is a kindergarten?”
“The bus was stuck in traffic. I’ll make up the time. I always do.”
“The most important thing is that you don’t get ideas above your station. Sit down, do your work, and stop inventing things. We already have enough dreamers around here.”
“I’m not inventing anything,” she answered evenly. “I’m simply doing my job.”
At lunchtime, Larisa sat beside her, unwrapped a sandwich, and immediately got to the point.
“Listen, my sister works from home and makes more money than the two of us put together. She takes commissions. Draws all kinds of things—letters, pictures, symbols for different companies.”
“That’s graphic design. Fonts, logos, visual branding.”
Larisa narrowed her eyes.
“And how do you know words like that?”
“I…” She hesitated, but then decided to tell the truth. “I study at night. I sit in the bathroom with my laptop so I don’t disturb anyone, and I watch tutorials. I used to design bulletin boards at school and invent different lettering styles. It probably sounds ridiculous.”
“What sounds ridiculous is being told to sit down and stop thinking,” Larisa scoffed. “You should give it a try. You’ve got nothing to lose except all of this.”
‘
That evening, she carefully brought up the subject while Denis lay sprawled in front of the television.
“Denis, someone suggested that I try taking design commissions. I’d like to enroll in a course. It includes an internship.”
“What?” He turned toward her as though she had said something obscene. “What course? What drawings? Are you planning to draw money for the mortgage?”
“I’m talking about an opportunity. It may be small, but it’s real.”
“Real,” he repeated mockingly. “Real is money arriving at the end of the month. Your fantasies are for five-year-olds. We already have one artist in this family. We don’t need another.”
“I’m not asking your permission. I’m sharing something with you.”
“Oh, you’re sharing, are you?” He turned back to the television. “Then why don’t you share when dinner is going to be ready?”
She found support in the last place she had expected it.
Late that evening, her mother called. She had spent her entire life keeping quiet and enduring everything so that their family could look “normal” from the outside.
“Sweetheart, you sound so quiet. Is something wrong?”
“Everything’s fine. I’ve just been thinking. I want to try something new, but Denis is against it.”
“Then stop listening to Denis,” her mother suddenly said, her voice trembling. “I spent my entire life listening to the people I was told to obey. And do you know what? Live the way you believe is right. At least one of us should get the chance to live.”
“Are you serious?”
“I’ve never been more serious. I was too afraid to tell you that before. I’m not afraid anymore.”
Two weeks later, she enrolled in a course that included an internship. She began getting up even earlier than usual.
Denis did not notice at first. When he finally did, he flew into a rage.
“What is this charge on the card?” he demanded, waving his phone in her face. “Where did fifteen thousand go?”
“I paid for my course. With my own money, by the way.”
“Your own money!” he shouted, spittle gathering at the corners of his mouth. “There is no such thing as ‘your own’ in this house! Everything is shared, and if it’s shared, that means it belongs to me! Have you completely lost your mind?”
“No,” she said calmly. “I’ve finally found my boundaries. I didn’t have any before.”
Studying was difficult, but she kept going. She redrew everything, corrected her mistakes, failed, tried again, and returned to her work each night after Sonia had fallen asleep hugging her little drawing of the winged woman.
“Mommy, do you draw like me now?” her daughter asked one evening.
“Almost like you. But you’re still better at it.”
“Daddy says it’s silly.”
“Daddy just hasn’t seen enough good pictures,” she said, adjusting the blanket around her. “But you and I have. And we’re going to draw many more.”
One morning, she placed a sheet of paper on her boss’s desk.
“What’s this?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“It’s the document that means you’ll never have to count the minutes I’m late again.”
“You’re quitting?” He leaned back in his chair. “Well, well. And where are you going? Off to become a famous artist?”
“I’m going somewhere no one will teach me how not to breathe.”
“Go ahead and breathe,” he said with a smirk. “You’ll come running back. I know people like you.”
“You don’t know me at all.”
She picked up the box containing her belongings and walked out without looking back.
A full-blown scene was waiting for her at home.
Denis stood in the hallway like a guard, and his voice rose almost immediately.
“Your friend Larisa called and told me you quit your job! Have you completely lost your mind? Who’s going to feed you now?”
“I’m an adult. I can support myself.”
“Support yourself?” He gave a cruel laugh. “You wouldn’t last a week without me! Who pays for this apartment? Who pays the electricity bill? You’ve been sitting here with everything handed to you, and now you’re strutting around like some kind of queen!”
“I’m not strutting. I’ve simply stopped being afraid.”
“Afraid?” he snapped. “I’ll give you something real to be afraid of!”
“Don’t shout in front of the child,” she said quietly.
Something in the calmness of her voice made him stop for a second.
Her first real commission came from Oleg, the owner of a small coffee shop who needed someone to design a storefront sign and a logo. He called in the evening and spoke as though they had known each other for years.
“Hello. You were recommended to me as someone who knows how to use both her hands and her head. Apparently, that’s a rare combination.”
“It is,” she said with a smile. “Especially when both are where they’re supposed to be.”
“That’s exactly why I like talking to real people. I own a coffee shop, and it needs a face. I don’t want a sign just for the sake of having a sign. I want people to walk past, see it, and feel like coming inside.”
“I understand. A face has character. Tell me about the character of your coffee shop, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“I like you already,” Oleg said with a laugh. “It’s actually pleasant talking to you. I’m tired of people who nod at everything but never listen.”
She worked until three in the morning, checking every line, changing the shades, moving the design away from her and then pulling it closer again.
When the payment arrived, she stared at the numbers on the screen for a long time.
“I did this myself,” she whispered aloud, needing to hear the words before she could believe them.
Denis was standing in the doorway, disheveled and angry.
“How much did that Oleg of yours pay you?” he demanded through clenched teeth. “Show me.”
“It was my commission, and it’s my money.”
“Here we go again!” His voice grew louder. “If you’re earning money in my apartment, then you owe me a share! Do you have no conscience at all?”
“I do have a conscience. That’s why I’m not sharing my money with someone who spent years treating me like a servant.”
Their arguments became a daily occurrence, and every one of them began in almost the same way.
“Have you ever stopped to think about who would even want you?” Denis said, pacing back and forth across the kitchen. “Who would take a woman with a kid in tow? I pulled you out of that miserable hole, out of that kiosk with melting ice cream, and this is how you repay me?”
“I learned how to breathe,” she answered. “And now you’re trying to send me a bill for it.”
“I’ll send you a bill for everything! Every plate of food, every cup of tea!”
“All right.” She nodded. “Start calculating. I’ll pack while you do it.”
“What?” He stopped in his tracks. “What are you packing? You’re not going anywhere!”
“As you can see, I already am.”
The next morning, she calmly packed a suitcase, gathered Sonia’s toys, and carefully collected all her little drawings of winged people.
Denis paced around them, unable to believe she was serious.
“You’re bluffing,” he said, blocking the doorway. “You’ll never survive without me. Where are you going to go with the kid?”
“To Olya’s. She has an empty room. Move.”
“To that Olya of yours?” His face turned purple, and the veins at his temples began to swell. “She’s practically broke herself! The two of you will starve to death!”
“Better to go hungry than sit at the same table with you,” she said, taking Sonia by the hand. “Come on, sweetheart.”
“Mommy, are we coming back?” the little girl asked quietly.
“We’re going forward,” she replied. “We don’t need to go back.”
Olya met them at the door, took the suitcase without asking unnecessary questions, and immediately switched on the kettle.
“Come in, both of you. The room is yours, and the bedding is fresh. Sonia, I have cookies and an entire box of colored pencils. Can you imagine?”
“A whole box?” The girl’s eyes lit up.
“A whole box. You can be my chief artist.”
Olya turned toward her friend and lowered her voice.
“How are you?”
“It feels strange. I feel light and terrified at the same time.”
“That’s called being alive,” Olya said with a smile. “A person is made for happiness just as a bird is made for flight. So stop walking. You’re flying now.”
Denis called every day. His tone changed with every conversation, moving from growling anger to artificial gentleness.
“All right, all right, let’s talk like reasonable people,” he rasped into the phone. “I’m willing to compromise. Come home. I won’t even say another word about your drawings.”
“You’ll approve of Oleg’s coffee shop too?” she asked calmly.
“You can design three coffee shops for all I care! Just come back. The place is a disaster without you. There’s no one to wash my clothes.”
“So that’s what you need me for. To do your laundry.”
“Stop twisting my words! I’m trying to be nice!”
“You had plenty of chances to be nice before. You didn’t notice them because you only ever listened to yourself.”
A few days later, she rented a small, bright studio apartment with a large window and white walls.
The first thing she did was hang Sonia’s drawing of the winged woman on the wall.
“Now this feels like home,” she told her daughter. “Can you feel it?”
“I can,” Sonia replied seriously. “Our picture is hanging here.”
“Then we made the right decision.”
“Mommy, is Daddy going to come here?”
“No, sweetheart. Daddy has his own home. And we have ours.”
The commissions began arriving one after another. Oleg recommended her to his acquaintances, and they recommended her to theirs. New messages appeared on her phone more and more often.
“Listen, you saved my coffee shop,” Oleg told her during one of his calls. “People come inside and ask who designed everything. I tell them I know someone who has both hands and a head.”
“If you praise me too much, I’ll become conceited.”
“Be a little conceited. It suits you,” he said with a laugh. “And prepare yourself, because I’m about to hit you with another client.”
“Go ahead. I’m holding on tightly. That part has been thoroughly tested.”
One day, an email arrived from Krasnodar. She was being invited to work on a major, serious, long-term project.
She read the message several times before calling Olya.
“Olya, I’ve been offered a big project. It’s in Krasnodar.”
“And you’re still thinking about it?” her friend shouted into the phone. “Say yes, you silly woman!”
“I already did. I just needed to say it out loud so I could believe it.”
“Believe it,” Olya said, her voice softening. “You earned it. You did it yourself, with your own hands.”
In the evenings, she and Sonia made pancakes together. Their kitchen was quiet and peaceful, and the little girl sat on a stool, swinging her legs.
“Mommy, is it always going to be like this now?”
“Like what?”
“Quiet. With no one shouting.”
“Always,” she answered firmly, flipping another pancake. “There’s no one here to shout anymore.”
“Are you happy?”
“I’m free. And that’s even better.”
Denis called for the last time late one evening. His voice was no longer angry. It sounded lost.
“Are you really leaving? Going off to some Krasnodar with my daughter?”
“Our daughter. And I’m not moving there permanently, so don’t panic.”
“I’m not panicking!” he immediately snapped. “I just… I don’t understand how this happened. You used to be nobody. I made you!”
“You didn’t make me,” she said. “All you did was keep kicking me until I finally moved.”
Then she ended the call.
Denis remained alone for a long time in the same kitchen where he had once criticized her fried eggs.
A meal he had reheated for himself was growing cold on the table.
“How did this happen?” he muttered, clutching an empty mug. “She was right here beside me. So obedient. So easy to control. I fed her. I bought her clothes. Everything depended on me…”
“You did it all yourself, you idiot,” he said, striking his fist against his knee. “You nagged her away. Tormented her away. Penny-pinched her right out of the house. You could have kept your mouth shut just once. You could have stopped shouting.”
“All because of a lousy fifteen thousand. Because of those stupid plates,” he continued bitterly. “I counted every penny, but I miscalculated the one thing that mattered most.”
“I still have the apartment. I still have the car. But there’s no one left in the house. I drove them away. I did it with my own hands. And now there isn’t even anyone to apologize to. She won’t take me back. She won’t believe me. She’ll never return.”
“You’re a fool, Denis,” he whispered.
“What a complete fool you are.”