Margarita had long sensed that this day would come, but when it did, she was still taken aback. She stood there, not knowing what to do next. Roman, her husband, just shrugged:
“You’re not fifteen to be asking such questions. It’s time for you to figure things out on your own.”
“So, I have to move out?” she asked quietly.
“You’ve got it right,” he responded dryly. “But don’t worry, I bought you half of a house. It’s cheap, but it’s yours.”
Rita smirked:
“Why only half? Couldn’t afford the whole house?”
Roman flushed with irritation:
“Enough, Rita, don’t start. We haven’t been husband and wife for a long time. I’m tired of all this!”
She turned silently and left the room. Of course, he was tired. While Roman managed their finances and made all decisions in the house, he lived comfortably: money for entertainment, gatherings with friends in the sauna, and possibly someone else. But as soon as Rita stopped giving him her salary, he flared up:
“Do you think your pennies make any difference in this house?”
“Roman, I’ve been wearing the same boots for four years,” she replied calmly. “And you’ve updated your entire wardrobe in that time. Is that fair? And why ‘pennies’? With my side jobs, I earn no less than you.”
The conversation then hit a dead end. Rita knew Roman had a mistress on whom he was spending their money. But when his financial situation worsened, and apparently, there were problems with the mistress, arguments became more frequent at home.
Rita had long thought about divorce, but only one thing stopped her – she had nowhere to go. After the last argument, when Roman came home and found no dinner, he made a scene. Rita calmly explained that she had dinner at a cafe since he hadn’t given her any money for three months. This infuriated him. He yelled that she was worthless, that she couldn’t even have children, and that he was only living with her out of pity.
Then, Rita barely held back her tears but realized their relationship had come to an end. She began preparing for the inevitable. Today’s question about what she should do, she asked more out of habit. She wasn’t going to fight for half of a one-room apartment. But Roman, apparently, was afraid of just that. He smirked:
“You’re so smart and proper. Why don’t you buy the other half of the house if you want it?”
He knew it was impossible. Half of the house had been sold to him for pennies because no one would buy the other half. And soon Rita understood why.
The house’s story was simple. Previously, a married couple lived there, but the husband was in an accident and became disabled. Unable to cope with such a life, the wife filed for divorce and sold her half of the house. The other half remained with her ex-husband, who was now bedridden. The house was not divided into two, and the sale was only about square meters.
Rita packed her things, called a taxi, and decided to head to her new residence immediately. Why rent an apartment if she couldn’t afford it anyway? Judging by the year it was built, the house seemed sturdy and well-maintained. When she arrived, she was surprised: “Could Roman really have splurged? At least to try to buy the second half… To live alone in such a house, to drink tea under the acacia…”
She opened the door. The lock worked smoothly, without a squeak, as if it were often used. The house looked well-kept, but something about it was odd. Why was there only one door? Rita entered. The air smelled of medicine. She looked around: a large room, a combined kitchen and dining area, another room with an open door. Rita peeked inside: a spacious, bright room, almost empty. Two more doors led from this room. One was open – probably the former bedroom. The other – closed.
Rita decisively pushed the door and nearly lost her senses from surprise. In the room, she was met by the gaze of a man who, apparently, lived there. A television quietly operated on the wall, and a small table with a bottle of water and medicine stood next to the bed.
“Hello,” she said awkwardly.
The man smiled:
“Well, hello. Did they sell you half of my house?”
Rita nodded, looking around in confusion:
“I don’t understand… Half a house – is this all of it? No partitions, no separate entrance?”
“No,” he calmly replied. “The house was never divided. So now you own half of the house together with me.”
Rita sighed:
“Now everything’s clear. And here I thought my husband suddenly became generous. Turns out, he just stayed true to himself. Sorry, I’ll temporarily occupy another room until I find housing.”
The man shrugged:
“Live, use the whole house. I don’t mind – I never leave this room. No need to even go to the clinic – they come to me. By the way, my name is Oleg.”
Rita was about to close the door but paused:
“And you… do you cook, manage the household?”
“No, of course not,” he replied. “A caregiver comes every two days.”
Rita closed the door and went for her belongings. “Something’s wrong. A caregiver every two days… And the rest of the time? He’s quite young, probably almost my age.”
After moving her belongings, she decided to have a snack. She took out a bag of groceries and looked around. “The owner probably wouldn’t mind if I took a shelf in the fridge,” she thought.
However, the refrigerator was not just empty – it was unplugged. Rita opened the drawers: some grains, salt, but no sugar found. “I wonder what they feed him?” she was surprised.
The woman rolled up her sleeves and started cooking. After a while, she caught herself humming a tune. She smiled: “Just got divorced, nowhere to live, everything’s unclear, yet here I am, singing. And oddly, I’m in a good mood.”
An hour later, she knocked on the door and entered:
“Oleg, I’ve made dinner. Shall we dine together?”
He looked at her gloomily:
“Let’s make one thing clear: I don’t need your pity. I’m not starving, so…”
Rita firmly placed the tray on the table:
“Let’s agree differently. I’m not going to pity you. I just ended up in a strange place, abandoned by my husband, and I’m lonely. I just wanted to have dinner with someone. With a living person.”
Oleg was embarrassed:
“Sorry, I’m used to everyone acting that way. Everyone around just gives advice, pretending to understand.”
Rita sat down on the chair:
“I understand you. How many people around you think they know how to live your life better than you do.”
Oleg, bringing a spoon to his mouth, rolled his eyes:
“Rita, I can’t forgive you. After such a dinner, I definitely can’t eat what the caregiver cooks.”
They drank tea for a long time, and Rita surreptitiously surveyed the room. “Strange, the wheelchair stands, but he doesn’t use it,” she thought.
“You understand that sooner or later, I’ll ask what happened. If you don’t want to tell, just say so, and I’ll leave you alone.”
“No, sooner or later you’ll find out anyway. Better I tell you. Two years ago, I was in an accident. Seemed like nothing serious, but something went wrong during a spine surgery. They barely saved me.”
“At first, they said everything would be okay. Then they held consultations, examined me, but I felt my legs weren’t responding. They discharged me, saying it would all recover over time. But, as you can see, nothing changed.”
“A year ago, some professor came. My wife, still my wife then, had made an appointment for me. He said the surgery went well, but the timing was lost. I should have started rehabilitation right after the accident. But they didn’t do that then.”
“When Elena heard that verdict, she packed her things and left. Later I found out she had divided everything we had. Though she herself contributed nothing. Took the car, not even thinking about it being after the accident. Divided the house. And, as I learned today, quickly sold her half to someone as unprincipled as herself. That’s the whole story.”
Rita raised her eyebrows in surprise:
“Didn’t understand. So, you’re just going to lie there and wait for the end?”
“And what do you suggest?”
“What do I suggest? Fight! Well, do something, live, after all!”
“How, excuse me, live? Do you think you’re the only one like this in the world? No, not one, and not two, and not three. Thousands like you, and none of them ruin themselves. Well, it’s your business, of course, but I probably won’t understand that.”
Rita got up, began to gather the dishes.
“I’ll settle in that room then.”
Oleg nodded:
“The whole house is at your disposal. I only need to be in this room. Thanks for the dinner, by the way.”
Rita closed the door behind her, paused for a moment, wanted to ask if he needed anything, but then decided that Oleg might be offended. “Somehow he lived before me.”
She fell asleep instantly, and in the morning she was awakened by an irritated voice:
“God, when will they gather you disabled people and take you to an island so you can crawl after each other! I can’t take it anymore!”
Rita sprung up like a spring. She saw Oleg’s whitened cheeks – it was clear how tightly he was clenching his teeth to not respond. In the kitchen, some woman was busily packing Rita’s groceries into a bag.
“God help you,” Rita grated.
The woman flinched and dropped the sausage, which just wouldn’t fit into the already overflowing bag.
“Aren’t you afraid of straining yourself?” – Rita’s voice was gentle, but her eyes… – “Let me help you carry that to the door.”
The woman backed away, but Rita grabbed the bag and hit the thieving caregiver with it so hard that she turned and fled to the door. But Rita wasn’t giving up.
To the gate… The young woman managed to “pin” the caregiver a few more times. At the last moment, a package of eggs fell from the bag and smeared over the runaway’s coat.
Rita returned home, regretfully looked at what was left in the bag, and threw it out along with the contents. She turned around – and her eyes involuntarily widened: Oleg was laughing!
“Rita, you really give it your all! You should have seen yourself, terror of the seas. I was even scared you’d hit her with a loaf of bread.”
Rita laughed too, then said:
“Let’s have some coffee now, and then I’ll go to the store. Otherwise, we’ll starve to death here while I’m at work for four days.”
“I haven’t had coffee in a long time… Rita, come here, please. There, in the leg of the table, there’s also money. Your groceries suffered because of me. Don’t look at me like that. It’s impossible to find a caregiver for someone like me now. And if you leave the money just like that, it’ll be gone right away. Take it, buy something on my behalf. But what am I going to do now without a caregiver?”
Rita smiled:
“Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out. By the way, I’m a nurse. Almost a doctor.”
“Almost? Ah, with three courses of medical school. Then you got married, and that ended your career.”
Rita and Oleg lived, existed, neighbored for almost half a year. She went to work, cooked, helped Oleg, even though he resisted. Sometimes in the evenings, they talked for a long time. It was Rita who found out that he could and should sit, and she made him move around the house in a wheelchair at least. Then she herself made a ramp from the porch.
Two years passed.
“Well, my good sir, to be honest, you’ve really surprised me. Somehow you managed. Your muscles were practically empty, all withered, and now – it’s a pleasure to look at. There must be love involved.”
Oleg shyly looked at Rita and nodded:
“Well, can’t do without it.”
“What do you say, doctor?”
“What can I say… I see no contraindications to start standing up. Your legs will hold you, it won’t get worse, but be ready: you’ll have to learn to walk again.”
“I know, doctor, I’m ready. I can do it!”
Oleg was sure he could. Even if he couldn’t, he still could. There was no other way out for him. Yesterday, Rita told him that she was pregnant. He was ready to stand up right then, but she wouldn’t let him, said he first needed to consult.
He knew Rita was watching him, worried more than he was himself. It was not just scary, it was very scary and very painful.
A few more centimeters. Oleg let go of the wheelchair and looked at it:
“I can do it. For you, I can.
FacebookMastodonEmailРесурс