« I sold my share, you’re moving out tomorrow! » the husband chuckled. But he didn’t know who exactly would be opening the door for him in a month.
« I sold my share, you’re moving out tomorrow! » The phrase sounded casual as Vadim squeamishly rummaged through the shirt racks.
The sound of the plastic zipper on her duffel bag sliding open seemed unnaturally loud. Nina stood at the bedroom doorframe, her feet feeling the cold laminate flooring. The slightly open window wafted damp air and the exhaust fumes of a garbage truck driving down the avenue.
« Vadim… are you kidding me now? » Nina swallowed hard. « What share? We agreed. You promised we’d just get divorced and put the apartment up for sale. I paid for it with the money from my grandmother’s house. »
Vadim shrugged irritably. He reeked of the heavy, sweet perfume he’d bought a month ago on the advice of his new young flame.
« Nina, enough of this whining. On paper, I’m the owner. What you once invested there is your personal problem. You should have used your head instead of playing the perfect wife. I found a buyer, I already have the money. And you can pack your things and go to your mother’s. Or rent a room. I don’t care. »
He slammed his bag shut, slung it over his shoulder, and, without even glancing at his ex-wife, stepped into the hallway. The heavy metal door slammed. Nina was left standing in the middle of the room, staring at the empty shelves in the closet. Her heart sank, as if a cold stone had settled over her.
That evening, the old refrigerator hummed in the kitchen. Zhanna, their friend from college, sat across from Nina, furiously picking at a dried stain on the oilcloth with a teaspoon. Strong black tea, scented with cheap bergamot, was cooling in the cups.
« So, then, » Zhanna looked up, and there wasn’t a drop of sympathy in them, only a dull irritation. « You’re not going to sit there and mope. He did this on purpose, so you’d fall apart completely. He started an affair with his underage intern, and now he thinks he’s the boss. You’re not going to budge, understand? This is your apartment no less than his. Let the new tenant come in. We’ll see who pushes the other out. »
« Zhanna, what if there are… well, some marginalized people there? » Nina’s voice trembled. « I won’t be able to sleep. I can’t even change the lock; he sold the share officially. »
« Buy a deadbolt for the bedroom door. We’ll screw it in ourselves tomorrow. Nina, stop being convenient! »
The new neighbor arrived two days later. It was early Saturday morning. The doorbell rang briefly but insistently. Nina threw on a thick terrycloth robe, fumbled for her slippers, and, feeling a nervous ache inside, went to answer the door.
A man stood in the doorway. Tall, stooped, wearing a thick, khaki-colored windbreaker. He held a huge backpack, the kind usually taken on long hikes. He smelled strongly of train vestibules, damp wool, and tobacco.
« Good morning, Gleb, » the man handed over a thick file of papers. « I bought half of this. Don’t worry, I’m just passing through. A month on shift, two weeks here. I’ll tell you right now: I’ll mind my own business, we’ll share the fridge, and I won’t be hanging around in the bathroom. »
Nina silently stepped aside, letting him in. Gleb removed his heavy boots, carefully placed them on the rubber mat, and walked into Vadim’s former room.
The first week passed in tense silence. Nina winced at every creak of the floorboards. She was used to Vadim’s constant demand for attention: either his shirt wasn’t ironed, or his dinner was too bland, or she was breathing loudly while he was watching TV. She expected a trick.
But Gleb turned out to be practically invisible. He’d wake up at six, the shower would run for a long time, then the kettle would click in the kitchen. By the time Nina went out to make oatmeal, the counter would be spotlessly clean, the sink would be wiped dry, and the window would be cracked open for a little ventilation.
Nina returned home late from work on Thursday. A nasty autumn rain was pouring outside, and her coat was soaked through. Walking into the kitchen, she saw a cast-iron skillet on the stove. A yellow Post-it note lay nearby: « Fried potatoes with mushrooms. Eat this before it spoils. »
She hesitantly lifted the lid. The appetizing aroma of wild mushrooms with garlic and fresh dill filled the kitchen. Nina helped herself to some, sat down at the table, and suddenly realized her lips were trembling. The last time someone had cooked for her… never. Vadim considered the kitchen an exclusively female domain.
When Gleb came in for a glass of water, she was still sitting over her plate.
“Thank you,” Nina said hoarsely. “It’s very tasty.”
« You’re welcome, » Gleb said, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. He was wearing a simple gray T-shirt, and an old mark from an industrial accident was visible on his right arm. « There’s no point in cooking alone. It’ll just waste food. »
« Why did you… well, buy a share? » Nina hadn’t expected to ask that question. « It’s a problem property. »
Gleb shrugged and sat down on the stool opposite.
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