— You only earned money on this wreck! — those words lashed at Zhenya all the way. — What did you expect, Zhenka? A happy life? Well done, you got what you deserved!
She threw down her heavy bags and sank onto an old tree stump. Everything had started so well… Or was she merely fooling herself? Twenty years of life together with Misha ended one morning when, returning from her night shift, she found her husband not alone, and her belongings neatly arranged by the door.
“— Misha, what does all this mean?”
Zhenya was so stunned she didn’t even pounce on the young woman parading about their apartment in a light bathrobe.
“— It means, my dear, that I no longer want to hide. I want to be with my beloved, not with you.”
“— Misha, what are you saying? We’ve been together for twenty years!”
“— Exactly — twenty years of agony. You know as well as I do that there was never any real love between us. And besides, you forced me to marry!”
“— What do you mean? What are you saying? I thought you were different… But you’re just ordinary!”
Zhenya wanted to say that everything seems perfect in the beginning, and then… But Misha wouldn’t let her finish.
“— Enough, I don’t need your explanations. Get ready and leave. I’ve already filed for divorce.”
“But where am I supposed to go?” Zhenya asked, bewildered.
Her husband laughed, and his new mistress, nestled against his shoulder, joined in his laughter.
“— Here, take the keys. This place is just for you. You deserve no better.”
“— Misha, but…”
Before she could finish speaking, he shoved her out the door like a stray cat and turned the key in the lock. Zhenya heard the latch click on the neighboring door and dashed down the steps. How ashamed she felt! The words of the neighbor flashed in her head: “She’ll end up crying with Mikhail.”
How passionately she had defended him back then, assuring everyone that she had the perfect husband. She herself had created a cult of Misha in their home. It seemed right to her, as it should be, just like in those novels she devoured.
Her mother constantly reproached her:
“— Zhenka, you read all sorts of nonsense and dream of the impossible! In life, there are no princes on white horses; they’re all taken since kindergarten. It’s better to go feed the chickens and clean the pigs.”
Zhenya wrinkled her nose and waited for the moment when she could leave the village for the city, where she was sure to meet her destiny. In the city, she wouldn’t have to wash by hand, carry water, or haul firewood.
And so it happened. Although it cost her a bit of blood and nerve when Stepan found out about her plans. And then Zhenya snapped:
“— I don’t want to live like you. I don’t want to — that’s all!”
“— So, we’re living badly then, huh? And Stepka isn’t your suitor?”
“— I’ve dreamed my whole life of marrying a tractor driver!”
“You know what, Zhenya? Sometimes I think that at the maternity ward they mixed up the children. There’s no way your father and I could have had such a daughter!”
Zhenya snorted:
“— And I wouldn’t be too upset if you stopped considering me your daughter. A bit of honor is enough — even cows twist their tails!”
She left. She saw her mother’s tearful eyes, but still she departed. And just as she arrived at the bus stop, Stepan ran up.
“— Zhenka, are you leaving?”
Stepan was kind and she liked him very much, but there was no future with him. Otherwise, they would have remained in the village.
“— I hope never, Zhenya! What are you saying? Never mind, I have parents! And my parents don’t need a daughter like you!”
The bus arrived. Zhenya stepped inside, turned around, and cried out in despair:
“— Give the girl a ride…!”
And she sat down. The sorrow quickly passed because she knew for sure — she was heading toward her happiness!
Zhenya met Mikhail at the factory, where she got a job immediately. He was the head of her workshop. She had to work hard, but within four months they married. From that moment on, Zhenya began to build the life she had dreamed of.
She renovated, hunted for a fashionable sink, and mostly worked the night shifts. Her husband hinted a couple of times that it wouldn’t hurt if she got an education so she could rise above a mere laborer. But Zhenya wasn’t interested — soon Misha became her idol. He seemed to like the role: enjoying the outfits, costumes, delicious breakfasts, crystalline cleanliness. And Zhenya sighed in front of her colleagues:
“— Ooh!”
She did not return home. At first, she didn’t want to, then she became ashamed for not having gone home in so long. And then so many years passed… With what expression could she show herself there? Besides, who knew if everyone would be alive and well…
Zhenya got up. Judging by the driver’s words, it would take at least another hour to walk. Oh well, she would eventually reach her destination and then collapse. And never rise again. Everything around was crumbling, everything was broken. Maybe nothing had really happened — it was all just the product of her imagination?
“— Help!”
Zhenya stopped. She was walking along a country road, and a minute ago there was no one. She turned around — a disheveled girl was charging toward her, followed by a gang of boys. Two women were running after them. Everyone was shouting.
The girl turned out to be a Gypsy, and the boys, along with the women, intended to beat her up. Zhenya stepped forward and grabbed a stick.
“— Hey! Stop! What are you planning?”
The boys scattered, but the women did not relent.
“— Who do you think you are? Step aside, we’ll beat her up! Let her know what it means to steal!”
“— And what did she steal from you?”
“— I lost my sour cream, and I lost a piece of fat! Shameless!”
Zhenya looked at them with disdain.
“— You didn’t spare the children some food?”
She took out her purse, pulled out all her remaining cash — it didn’t matter that these were her last funds — and threw it on the ground.
“— Pick it up. Enough fighting over such trifles.”
“— And you, Gypsy, watch yourself! And you, girl, don’t you ever show your face in our village again!”
“— There’s no need for decent people to attack someone just because she’s Gypsy!”
The little disheveled girl only let go of Zhenya once the women had hidden behind a bush.
“— Thank you!” she smiled. “You act like you’re not scared at all.”
“— I’m just tired. I’ve been wandering for a long time.”
“— And why do you steal, Gypsy?”
The girl shrugged:
“— Well, to be honest, we always steal. It’s our job.”
Zhenya struggled to hold back a smile.
“— And you speak so calmly about it?”
The girl produced some fat, bread, and then, from somewhere, pulled out a knife. Green onions appeared and, apparently, that same jar of sour cream.
“— So, are you hungry? Sit down. Let’s eat. I don’t have far to go, but you’ve got a long journey.”
Zhenya raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“— How do you know?”
“— I know everything. Firstly, I am a Gypsy. And secondly, I come from a family of fortune-tellers.”
Zhenya laughed.
“— Come on! Fortune-tellers don’t exist; it’s all made up to fleece people out of their money.”
The pieces of fat with onion looked appetizing. “Well, let it be stolen food,” she thought, “I haven’t eaten anything since morning.”
“— Can you tell my fortune? I’ve got no more money.”
The girl looked at her seriously.
“— I can. But you won’t believe it anyway. And I’ll decide whether you deserve my trust. Give me your hand.”
The Gypsy girl stared intently at her palm, and when she began to speak, her voice changed completely.
“— Don’t regret what happened. What was, wasn’t meant for you. It was punishment for rejecting the happiness sent from above. Now, everything will return to the place where you went wrong.”
Zhenya blinked in confusion.
“— I don’t understand a thing.”
The girl looked at her and answered in a normal voice:
“— And don’t worry. When the time comes, you will understand everything. Alright, I must go now; I need to beat the sunset.”
She busily gathered the remaining food, hid it in the invisible pockets of her long skirt, and ran down the road. Zhenya mumbled:
“— Strange. They’re all so strange.”
The house where she finally arrived was a real wreck. Only glass remained in two of its windows; the yard was overgrown with grass. Zhenya realized that the place had once been home to her husband’s relatives.
I wonder, what will she do here? Did she lash out in anger, trying to prove something to someone? Or perhaps she will find… Well. She’ll live there a few days. Or at least get a day’s rest — and then go back!
She cleared the trash from the room with intact windows, spread her coverlet over the bed, and lay down. But barely had she settled when tears streamed down her face. “So, I’ve lived twenty years and…”
She didn’t immediately hear someone speaking in the house.
“— Is anyone still alive here?”
She jumped up in fright.
“— Who’s there?”
“— That’s it, it’s over,” she thought. Who could have wandered into such a house? Zhenya slowly opened the door.
“— Who’s there?”
A broad-shouldered man standing with his back turned shuddered.
“— Oh, you scared me! Strange, you were just looking for someone alive.”
“— I was, but I didn’t expect to find anyone. I’m sorry. I was coming from a hunt; my car stopped right by your house. I assumed the house was empty, maybe I could spend the night…”
Zhenya straightened up.
“— Where did you come from, out in this godforsaken place? You know I used to live in the city, I have a husband… Stepa, I’m so glad to see you! What happened? Why are you crying?”
Zhenya burst into sobs, unable to stop crying. Stepan sat her down and said:
“— Since fate has brought us together again, I’m not going anywhere. Tell me everything, let’s talk.”
Within an hour they sat at a table. Stepan took out a flask and poured its contents into plastic cups.
“— Come on, Zhenya, down the hatch! It makes talking easier.”
Zhenya talked nonstop, and Stepan listened attentively.
“— This is how I wasted twenty years of my life because of my own foolishness.”
“— Don’t say it was all for nothing. The main thing is to understand that you took the wrong turn.”
“— Today the Gypsy told me not to regret anything, that I’ve returned to where I made my mistake. And there were so many mistakes I cannot even count!”
Stepan put his hand on hers.
“— Start fixing things. What’s the matter? The chance has come, and people rarely get such happiness.”
“— I feel guilty before my parents.”
“— Yes, that’s true. But I’m sure they’ll forgive you.”
Zhenya looked at him fearfully.
“— Are they alive and well?”
“— Of course! They’re not as spry as before, but they’re holding on. My mother raises chickens and ducks.”
Zhenya began to cry again.
“— Oh my God, what a fool I am! Alright, let’s go to bed, and in the morning we’ll drive back. We’ll go back to where you once ran away from.”
They lay down together without undressing, simply because it was warmer and more comforting. Stepan held her, and Zhenya immediately fell asleep.
Her mother didn’t even let her speak a word. Zhenya didn’t have time to apologize before her mother embraced her and wept. Zhenya realized: she’d rather die than abandon her parents again.
The village seemed to have forgotten that she had once run away and not returned for many years. People greeted each other and said that she had blossomed and grown beautiful.
Within two days, her heart began to thaw. Zhenya tried to help her mother around the house, but the old woman waved her off:
“— Rest after the city, will you!”
And Zhenya did rest. In her room everything remained as it was before: not a speck of dust, fresh linen. Her mother, it seemed, was regularly updating everything. Waiting…
On the third day, even before dawn, someone knocked on the window. Zhenya jumped up in fright. At the window appeared Stepan’s head.
“— Why are you so frightened? Get ready, we’re going fishing. I brought your fishing rod.”
Zhenya laughed quietly. Just like more than twenty years ago, he used to wake her up for fishing. Whether she wanted to or not, he never cared. She climbed out the window and clung to him.
“— Stepka, you are just… amazing!”
He looked at her seriously.
“— You didn’t used to think so.”
Zhenya smiled.
“— I used to be foolish, and now I’ve grown wiser.”
“— Perhaps you’ll marry me?”
Zhenya turned serious.
“— If you ask me, maybe I will.”
And then she burst out laughing.
“— If you can catch up!”
She leaned against the river. It didn’t matter that in three days she would turn 42. Right now, she was once again that young girl who had made so many mistakes long ago.
And a year later, she was already caring for Yegorka…
I hope you enjoyed the story! If you liked it, please give it a “thumbs up!” Thank you, and all the best!