Chapter 12
Nadiya
After Olesya left, everything fell out of my hands.
I realized I was a hostage to this marriage and to other people’s relationships, in which I had unwittingly become the third person. This realization angered me.
And the icing on the cake was another call from my uncle.
“Finally!” His voice sounds displeased. “I’ve been calling you for days. Why aren’t you answering?”
“Why, Uncle?” I ask angrily. “What are you trying to tell me that I don’t know? Perhaps you want to open my eyes to the fact that my husband has an official mistress with whom he lives? Or that my marriage will be a sham? So much so that even my in-laws won’t want to meet me! And while you’re at it, you’ll try to warn me that I’ll become a doormat for everyone to wipe their feet on?”
“Stop it,” he snaps. “Don’t make things up and don’t look for problems where there aren’t any. Do you want to meet your husband’s family? It’s probably for the best that you don’t know anyone; you’ll have fewer responsibilities. Live and work as before, and maybe one day everything will change.”
– What are you talking about?
“About that Russian woman. You understand, right, that for Idar she’s just a lover? He’ll get tired of her if not today, then tomorrow, and he’ll come to you.”
“Cool,” I grin. “I’m just wondering, in your opinion, I should just sit on the sidelines and wait for my husband to cool off to someone else?”
“That’s how a woman should behave,” he raises his voice. “Take off your rose-colored glasses and look at real life.”
I smile bitterly.
– So you think I’ve been wearing rose-tinted glasses all this time?
Studying, working part-time, residency, raising my brother, an accident. Hospitals, hospitals, and more hospitals.
I took off my rose-colored glasses at fifteen, when my parents’ car rolled off a cliff and they burned alive in it.
I am sufficiently aware of reality.
But I’m also a person. A girl.
And damn, I also want at least someone to care about me and respect me, maybe even love me.
– Why are you calling me, Tamerlan?
— I just wanted to make sure you were okay.
I burst into hysterical laughter.
– And also, so that I don’t do anything stupid, right?
Tamerlan is silent. And I don’t need his answer. I know perfectly well he cares only about himself.
His duty, as the only male relative who represented me before the Yunusov family and the mullah, was to discuss with Idar’s parents and himself the assistance for my brother.
My brother’s health is the only important thing for me and the only reason why I agreed to this marriage.
In the end, I have to fight for myself.
“I won’t do anything stupid, Tamerlan. After all, I have to cure my brother. Unlike you, I care about him.”
– Nadya…
– All the best, uncle.
I hang up and put my phone away, mentally sending all the men around me away.
I spend the rest of the day walking around the house, choosing what I think is the guest room. It has an empty closet and cabinets, so I put my few things there.
Towards evening I start making dinner.
I’m tempted to cook just for myself out of spite. After all, since I’m not a full-time wife, I should let my husband take care of himself. But ultimately, I decide not to be petty, especially since I’m planning on making pilaf, and it’s definitely not going to work out as a single serving.
Afterwards I put the pilaf into a container, call a taxi and head to my brother’s.
We spend the evening together. I try to smile and hide my sadness, and then I drive back in my car.
When I drive up to the house, I see Idar’s car in the yard and I park next to it.
The house smells of aromatic coffee, and I look into the kitchen.
Yunusov is sitting at the table, drinking coffee and fiddling with his phone.
“Hello,” he looks up, seeing me.
– Hello.
— Did you visit your brother?
“How did you find out?” I frown.
Is he following me?
— I assume you wanted to take him some pilaf. By the way, it was very tasty. Thank you.
It seems like now is the perfect time to raise the issue of Nazar.
Idar is in a good mood, well-fed.
I sit down on the chair opposite him and say under my breath:
– My brother needs help.
“Right off the bat?” Idar raises an eyebrow.
He doesn’t have much time left, so I don’t have much time to beat around the bush either.
Yunusov nods, accepting my answer.
— What does the help consist of?
– Money.
He didn’t even bat an eyelid; I think he understood what I was asking for.
I look down at the table.
“I assumed that Tamerlan discussed this issue with your family, because I was essentially promised help from your side.
– Your uncle is an asshole, Nadiya.
“I know,” I grit my teeth. “That’s why I want to talk to you directly.”
– I’m listening.
“My brother needs an expensive operation. He was riding in his coach’s car after a competition and got into an accident… his legs are paralyzed.” My voice involuntarily trembles as I say this. “I can’t leave him alone in the apartment, so I need to bring him here. But that’s not all. He needs a hip replacement. And a robot-assisted operation. In Israel. The flight, the accommodations, the preparation, the prosthesis itself, the rehabilitation. It’s very expensive.
I lick my dry lips.
– I don’t have that kind of money.
I look up at Idar and stop breathing.
He looks at me in a way that… not disappointment, no, but with a heaviness in his gaze that unexpectedly presses heavily on my shoulders.
“Is that why you married me?” His voice is emotionless, and it’s frightening.
“Yes,” I answer, looking at him.
I am enveloped by a prickly, alien feeling, as if I were a traitor.
Idar gets to his feet, puts the empty plate in the dishwasher and heads for the exit.
I close my eyes. Despair spreads inside me.
“I’ll help your brother,” I hear these words and open my eyes, but only to see Idar’s back leaving the kitchen.
