Chapter 17
Idar
“So why did you do that?” I wearily sit down on the ottoman at the entrance.
“Who else was I supposed to call?” Olesya sits at my feet, looks at me lustfully, and licks her lips.
I know all her tricks. Needless to say, I fell for them once, and Oleska still uses them skillfully to this day.
“Why the hell did you lie, Oles? Why did you spout nonsense about someone breaking into your door?”
She shrugs and smiles slyly.
“How else can I lure you to my place?” Olesya runs her fingers up my leg, moving higher toward my groin. “You’ve completely forgotten about me. You never come.”
“I was at your place the day before yesterday,” I smile and intercept her hand.
“He came for five minutes and left. It feels like an eternity,” she says, pouting her plump, fake lips. “And by the way, I miss you. So much.”
“Even so?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Of course. I’m not used to this, Idarchik,” she says, creeping the fingers of her other hand up my leg. “We were always together. Every evening you came back to me and I met you, remember?”
Oh yes. Olesya often greeted me in her underwear. Sometimes even without it.
“And what now? It’s like I’m in prison—sitting by the window, waiting for you to come,” her lips pouted again. “I’m bored.”
I grab her other hand, rise to my feet and pull her up, towards me.
She laughs invitingly and wraps her arms around my neck, running her tongue over my ear.
“Would you like to get a job?” I ask without any ulterior motive.
Olesya goes numb in my arms.
— What do you mean? — the sexual aura disappears as if it had never been there.
“Well, if you’re bored, then so you don’t suffer within four walls, I suggest you get a job.”
Olesya abruptly removes her hands and folds them under her chest.
“So that’s how you are with me? Is that it, Idar? Love has faded—the tomatoes have withered? And yet before, you never once reproached me for not working and for having to support me.”
The stream of baseless accusations is driving me to the brink, and I can barely restrain myself from making a face. I’m trying to keep Olesya from descending into hysteria, which I definitely won’t be able to handle.
“You never told me you missed me before. I’m just trying to find a solution,” I say, trying my best to keep myself in check.
“You never pushed me like that before. What, have you found yourself another woman to indulge yourself with? I’m sure this Nadiya dreams of you consummating your marriage.”
– We are not discussing this topic with you.
“What the fuck can I discuss with you?!” Olesya screams like a siren. “You haven’t slept with me in over a week! Over a week, Idar!”
“Will I get fucked up, Olesya?” Allah sees, one more word from her, and it will end badly. “Will I just get tired? Wedding, moving, work, and now you’re throwing tantrums.”
I turn around to leave.
– That’s it, I have to go.
“Don’t go!” Olesya clings to me. “Forgive me, I lost my temper! I’m just jealous.”
And I must admit, this jealousy really stresses me out.
“You need to cool off, and I have to go home. Leila’s alone there, and I promised to be back soon.”
“Your Leila’s a grown-up girl,” he says dismissively. “She can handle it herself. If not, then ask this Nadiya to keep an eye on her.”
I squeeze Olesya’s hand and pull it away from me, saying sharply and coldly:
“My Leila is not your concern. And Nadiya is not obliged to babysit her. That’s it, I’m leaving.”
I leave without saying goodbye to her.
On the way I stop at a pastry shop and buy a small cake – just right for the three of us.
As I pull up to the house, I see Nadiya’s car is already there. I should probably ask her about her work schedule so I can get some perspective.
Leila meets me at home.
She stands in the hallway and looks at me as if I am guilty of something.
– Hello, Lyalka.
“I’m angry with you!” he says, pointing a threatening finger at me.
– Well, sorry I left. I had some urgent matters to attend to.
“I know your urgent matters,” she mutters, just like an adult. “You went to see your Olesya, didn’t you?”
I shrug my shoulders. How can I explain all this to a child?
I can’t really explain to myself what the hell is going on in my life.
“I brought cake,” I hand her the box. “Napoleon. Your favorite. And also mochi. With raspberries and strawberries.”
Leila narrows her eyes. What, even cake and pastries didn’t get her going?
“I’m still angry with you,” she repeats through clenched teeth.
— For what? What have I done wrong to you?
– You’re offending Nadia.
“There was no such thing,” I declare decisively.
— Then why was she crying?
I’m at a loss with this question.
For me, Nadiya is like a distant galaxy about which I know nothing. How does she live, what does she like?
And therefore I don’t know the reasons for her tears.
I approach Leila and kneel in front of her.
— Where is Nadiya?
— She went to her room. She’s probably crying again.
What a day of women’s tears today.
— Let’s do it this way: you take the cake, and I’ll go to Nadiya’s, okay?
“Go,” he nods and takes the box from me.
I go up to the second floor, but I freeze outside Nadya’s room. It’s dark and quiet outside. Perhaps she’s already gone to bed?
I press the handle, and the door gives way. I go inside.
Nadiya is lying with her back to me, her dark hair scattered across the pillow.
I walk around the bed and sit down next to the girl.
It’s dark in the bedroom, but I can see that yes, she really has been crying. It’s noticeable by her swollen lips and eyes.
His breathing is measured, which means he is definitely sleeping.
Giving in to an impulse, I grab a strand of hair that has fallen into my eyes and push it away from my face.
She’s beautiful. It’s just that her beauty is somehow unusual. Perhaps she’s a mixture of different bloodlines, like her mother was Russian?
We have to leave, Idar. Right now.
I force myself to get up and get out of the room. Because if Nadiya wakes up, how can I explain my presence at her bedside when I can’t even explain to myself why I’m here?
