Polina was walking home from work, exhausted from the heat and fatigue. The summer had been very hot. The city air was almost impossible to breathe. At least the children and her husband were at the grandfather’s country house, out in the fresh air. And she didn’t have to cook by the hot stove.
Her only wish was to quickly get under the shower and refresh herself. In such heat, she didn’t even want to move, and there was still a week left before vacation, but she had to work. And the new management had worn her nerves out; the new “broom” was sweeping in her own rules.
Approaching her building entrance, she noticed her neighbor, Rosa Konstantinovna, sitting on a bench. Seeing Polina, she jumped up and hurried toward her despite her age and ample figure.
“Poliushka, oh… I don’t know… Maybe it was a mistake…” — the neighbor muttered, breathing heavily and wiping sweat from her face, looking guilty at Polina.
“What happened, Rosa Konstantinovna? Let’s sit in the shade,” Polina said, taking her arm and guiding her back to the bench. They sat down together.
“You don’t look well. What’s wrong?”
“I’m an old fool. But you see, I got confused. When I saw… I didn’t know what to say. I let him in!”
“Who? Who scared you? Should I call the police?”
“What police! Or maybe… Oh, I don’t know. Why did I give the keys, you old fool!”
“To whom? What keys?”
“To yours!”
“Mine?” Polina sat up, cautiously looking around the entrance. “To whom?”
“To Sonya’s! Right? That was a mistake, wasn’t it?”
“My keys to Sonya? Which Sonya? I’m so dizzy from the heat, I don’t understand anything.”
But suddenly Polina felt a pang in her chest, looked at the neighbor with wide eyes, and slowly sank back onto the bench.
…
Polina had lived in this building since birth. And Baba Rosa had always lived here too, in the neighboring apartment.
Their families had been friends for many years, closer than relatives. Both parents and children were friends, and now even their grandchildren hugged each other like family when they met, though they saw each other rarely.
They kept spare keys with each other in case of fire or flood.
There had been no fires or floods, but keys sometimes got lost. Then the spare key held by neighbors was a great help.
But now… Oh, Rosa Konstantinovna, you shouldn’t have given the keys…
…
Sonya got married after getting pregnant, right after school. Or rather, Timur got her pregnant.
He was a friend of her older brother. Sonya met him at some party where she came with Ilya.
Timur liked her. She liked him too. Their relationship started quickly.
“Look, don’t hurt my little sister,” Ilya warned Timur. “Or you’ll have to marry her.”
“Do I look like someone who would hurt her? I’m seriously in love, Ilyukha. When I see her, my knees go weak.”
Sonya was a beauty with thick dark curls and devilish eyes. She was the one who dragged Timur to bed.
“Don’t you like me?” she coquettishly asked, leading him along.
“I like you,” he whispered hoarsely, “very much.”
Everything happened the first time. When Sonya found out she was pregnant, she cried bitterly. She didn’t want to have a baby so early.
But Timur reassured her:
“We’ll get married. You’ll give birth to a beautiful daughter who looks like you. I’ll love you both. I’ll do anything for you.”
“And what if I get fat after the baby? Will you still love me?”
“You silly girl,” he kissed her, “you’re still so young. I’ll always love you.”
“I’m not young, I’m already eighteen. Well, okay, I’ll marry you.”
“Do you love me?”
“I do, I do,” she waved her hand.
Timur’s parents accepted her well. She knew how to make a good impression.
At first, they all lived together, the mother-in-law helped babysit little Polina.
But when the girl grew up, Lyubov Sergeevna and Dmitry Fedorovich moved to the country house, leaving the apartment to the young couple and asking Rosa Konstantinovna to look after them.
“Call us if you notice anything wrong. Just in case. We’re going to the countryside. It’s peaceful there. Why stay cramped with five people in a two-room apartment? Polina is already six, she’ll start school soon. She’ll need her own room.”
“Don’t they plan to buy their own apartment?” the neighbor asked. “Timur earns well, doesn’t he?”
“You can’t get by on one salary. Sonya is a housewife; she doesn’t want to work. And he loves her, dotes on her. He adores their daughter. Let them live there. We won’t interfere.”
The parents moved to the country house, Timur was working day and night, Polina went to kindergarten. Sonya, either out of boredom or too much freedom, started looking for entertainment.
She was still so young and beautiful. She hadn’t seen or tried anything. She wanted more from life than borscht and cutlets.
At a birthday party of a school friend, she met Valentin, with whom she fell madly in love.
He was twice her age, owned a new house with pompous columns, and drove a fancy foreign car.
“You’re simply a miracle, Sonya,” he hugged her, “I would marry you if you were free. I’ve always dreamed of someone just like you.”
“What to do? I’m already married. I have a child.”
“Maybe you’ll divorce? I’ll spoil you. Don’t worry about the housework, I have a maid and a gardener. You’ll boss them around. I’ll take you to Paris on business trips.”
The mention of Paris swept away all doubts.
Sonya decided to move immediately into Valentin’s house, and only afterward deal with the divorce.
Picking up her daughter from kindergarten, Sonya didn’t listen to her chatter but thought about what to take from the apartment.
Polina whined the whole way:
“My tummy hurts!” and squatted down, refusing to move further.
“Are you doing this on purpose? Don’t you see I’m in a hurry? Walk faster. Maybe you need the bathroom. Let’s run home faster!”
But even at home, the girl continued to cry, complaining of stomach pain.
Sonya didn’t pay attention, hurriedly packing, glancing at the clock. Valentin promised to come for her, and she needed to leave before her husband came home.
“Mommy, it hurts, Mommy!” the girl cried, trying to catch her mother’s hands. But the mother dashed around the apartment, brushing her off.
Polina had been whining for days. Yesterday and the day before she cried about her tummy. But today she screamed.
“Don’t try,” the mother pulled her by the arm, “do you think I should dance around you? See, I’m busy, and you’re deliberately bothering me. I wanted to take you with me, but you behave badly.”
The girl quieted, trying to cry quietly.
“Well done, you can when you try,” the mother bent down and kissed her. “Daddy will be home soon, behave well.”
Sonya took the bags, left, locked the door, went down in the elevator, got into Valentin’s waiting car, and drove away, leaving the crying daughter alone in the apartment.
What was that? Frivolity or cruelty? Or was it the same thing?
Rosa Konstantinovna was just returning from the store when Sonya ran past her with big bags, not saying hello. She turned around in surprise.
Going up to her floor, she put down the grocery bags and searched her pockets for the keys.
Someone was whining behind the neighbors’ door. Rosa shook her head — did they get a puppy? Dmitry Fedorovich was allergic to fur. What a nasty surprise if he came home.
She unlocked her door, carried in the bags, put away the groceries. Decided to take out the trash.
She went out to the trash chute and again listened to the sounds coming from the neighbors’ apartment.
She knocked, thinking Timur was already home. The sounds stopped for a moment. Then she clearly heard a moan.
Rosa rushed home to the phone and called Timur:
“Are you home, neighbor?”
“I’m held up at work. I’ll be back in about three hours. Please pass a message to Sonya. I can’t reach her.”
“Okay, I’ll tell her.”
She hung up, stood in confusion, and went to knock on the neighbors’ door again. No one answered.
“Polya, it’s me, Baba Rosa. Are you home alone? Come to me, we’ll wait for your dad together.”
No answer.
She went back inside, took her keys, and opened the neighbors’ door. The girl was unconscious on the floor by the threshold.
The ambulance took her quickly, but they barely saved the girl from the consequences of a neglected appendicitis.
The father took leave and spent all days at his daughter’s bedside. Lyubov Sergeevna and Dmitry Fedorovich rushed from the country house, begging the doctors to do everything possible to save their granddaughter.
But the mother never once came to the hospital.
Polina recovered slowly after the operation. Her grandmother fed her with a spoon, rocking her in her arms like a baby.
So Polina grew up without a mother, remembering well how she was left to die and her mother ran away with a lover.
And now this woman had somehow returned.
Polina was walking home, forcing herself. She didn’t want to talk. What was there to talk about? She didn’t even want to see her.
Sonya had aged a lot over the years, looking much older than her age. No trace of former beauty remained. She wore thick makeup trying to look better, but the makeup was frightening and only aged her more.
“Polinochka! My dear daughter!” she rushed to hug her with tears as soon as Polya entered the apartment.
“Mom…”
Polina couldn’t push her away. They both couldn’t hold back tears. Polina cried from hurt and bitterness. Sonya cried from fear of being rejected.
“I’m sick, daughter. Very sick. My husband died. And my son… He threw me out like a dog. His own son. Yurka!”
“Why did he throw you out?”
“He married a nasty woman. So that’s why. Mother is no longer needed. And where is your father? Timur? He truly loves me and won’t let anyone hurt me.”
“Dad is at the country house with the grandchildren.”
Sonya cried even harder.
After crying herself to sleep without undressing, Polina called her father. He was silent for a long time after hearing the news.
“He should be kicked out, honestly,” he finally said.
“Where will she go? She can’t live in the entrance hall. We need to figure something out.”
“I’ll think about it. I’ll deal with her son. But we don’t need her. I don’t want to see her.”
“She says you love her.”
“I loved her. That was before. From love to hate…”
Timur talked with Sonya’s son. Yuri was boiling with resentment at his mother, who had cheated on his father all his life and caused his heart attack.
“Let her go to hell. I’ve seen enough of her since childhood. I don’t want to see her anymore.”
They had to threaten a lawsuit and division of property.
To get rid of her, Yuri bought her a small room in a communal apartment, sent some money. Sold the house and left the city with his wife.
Only Polina occasionally visits her mother, bringing groceries and medicine.
And Timur recently married the cheerful neighbor from the country house, Galina. Now they have five grandchildren between them.
No time to be bored or sad. Time to harvest.