Chapter 9
Idar
After we arrived in the city, I went about my business.
I had to go to the auto repair shop that belongs to me, then to my father’s company – there were documents waiting for me to sign.
My father’s secretary persistently tried to convince me that everything was clear and there was nothing to find fault with, but I still decided to look over the papers I was signing.
The head cooked poorly.
In general, life has taught me endurance, but sometimes my resources are almost exhausted.
That’s how it is here – the battery was almost completely discharged.
I arrived home at almost four o’clock in the evening and was about to go to bed because I could barely stand on my feet, but Olesya called me.
“I don’t understand what I did to deserve this, Idar.”
She sniffled. And judging by her voice, she had been crying for a long time.
– Oles, what do you want from me?
I barely made it to the sofa. First I sat down, then lay down on the large pillow, and closed my eyes.
— Divorce that hen! Have you even seen her? Where did your father dig her up from?
This is a very good question.
And most importantly: why her?
No, I knew perfectly well that I would only marry the one they pointed the finger at. Otherwise, I would lose my business, my place in this family, and, most likely, my connection with them would be severed.
No matter how stupid my relationship with my father is, I love all the other members of my family.
It would seem that traditions and customs have long since become relics of the past. No one cares about purity of blood or the nobility of one’s family anymore.
But not my father. He has a thing about it.
The brother who once went against him paid dearly for his mistakes and wrong decisions.
So I always had a clear idea of what my wife would be like.
But Nadiya is not a classic Caucasian bride, even though her face and last name say otherwise.
She is bold, and this boldness sometimes turns into insolence.
She’s too willful, as if she doesn’t give a damn about me or this marriage.
She doesn’t dress the way I imagine a Caucasian wife should. She doesn’t wear a headscarf. But I’m not a snob.
She doesn’t like wearing tightly closed outfits – so be it.
– Idar! Can you even hear me?
– What, Oles?
“I’m telling you, divorce her. Let her get out of our house! And I’ll come back to you.”
In fact, the house is mine, it’s just that Olesya has been living here with me for the last six months.
– Oh, by the way, I rented you an apartment. Not far from the center.
– Idar! – she squeals at the top of her lungs.
— I won’t divorce you. And don’t ask me!
– Why-o-o are you doing this to me?
My head is buzzing.
This hysteria is the last thing I want to listen to right now.
“Oles,” I rub the bridge of my nose, which is also throbbing, “Have I ever lied to you? Promised to marry you?”
Oleska is silent.
“I told you right away: I won’t marry. My family won’t allow it, and I won’t go against them. Did I force you? No. And now I’m telling you clearly: Nadiya will be my wife, she will live in my house. You will live in a rented apartment. And I will come to you as often as I can. For you, practically nothing will change. Are you unhappy with this arrangement? I understand. So think about it today and tomorrow tell me what you’ve decided. That’s it, bye, bunny.”
Olesya doesn’t have time to say anything before I hang up.
My eyes close on their own and I sink even lower into the pillows.
My last thought, for some reason, was about Nadiya. About her challenging look. About how she sent me to bed, caring for me as if under duress, because she had to. But nevertheless, her words had an effect.
And apparently, with my thoughts I attract her into my dream.
I remember how we danced. How my hand lay on her thin waist. Too thin, for my liking. It was as if she were unhealthily thin.
We only made eye contact once.
But what a time it was!
There was so much life in her gaze, so much malice, even hatred. It seemed that if she had her way, she would have told me everything.
For some reason, I could still smell the faint scent of her perfume on my hands for a long time, a scent that should have evaporated along with my bride. However, it haunted me even when Olesya was driving me crazy on what was supposed to be my wedding night.
I dreamed of Nadia’s eyes.
They are not brown, like most women in my family, but green – more green, with unusual yellow specks.
Well, she’s a cat!
Freedom-loving. Bold. With sharp claws. It all fits.
I wake up abruptly and sit up on the sofa, looking around.
Nadiya was supposed to bring things, but there was clearly no one in the house except me.
It’s light outside, the clock on the phone shows eight in the morning.
What a goat!
I wash myself, change my clothes and rush off to her, thinking about only one thing on the way: what the hell brought me here?
