I can’t believe Matvey is gone forever. That can’t be. He’s just on edge because of the mess I made in the apartment. I definitely shouldn’t have torn up and cut all his things. Matvey will cool down and come home. We are a family, after all. And now we’re going to have a child. What divorce are we even talking about? Nonsense.
To avoid drowning in self-blame and depression, I start cleaning the apartment. I forbid myself to think about the scandal with my husband and his divorce filing. Matvey and I will definitely make up, and needless anxiety will only harm the child.
I manage to distract myself from the bad. I completely immerse myself in household chores. I gather Matvey’s damaged things, sweep up the fragments. It turns out to be several large bags of trash. Afterwards, I go to the website of the store where Matvey usually buys clothes and order him new ones: suits, ties, jeans, t-shirts. The courier will deliver them in a few days.
It’s late, past midnight, but I still go to make dinner. I bake meat in the oven, as Matvey likes, and make his favorite grilled vegetables. Half past one. Matvey is not here. Alright. I won’t call, let him stay in a hotel tonight. He’ll come home tomorrow.
But the next day Matvey doesn’t come. I push away the panic and continue to wait for my husband. To keep myself occupied, I pull out photo albums and look through our wedding photos. We are so happy and in love here. We had a very beautiful wedding. Just the kind I dreamed of. Then we went on a honeymoon to hot islands. We were inseparable for two weeks. I thought our happiness was endless.
When it’s late evening and Matvey is still not back, pushing away the panic becomes harder. At every thought that divorce is real, hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It’s unthinkable, unbelievable. My brain simply refuses to accept the idea of divorce. No, that can’t be.
On Monday, I realize I need to distract myself to the maximum, otherwise, I’ll go insane from the tormenting wait. I cook Matvey new food. He’s working today, probably will return around nine. I make borscht and several of my husband’s favorite salads. I constantly glance at my phone screen for any messages from Matvey. Normally, my husband texts me throughout the day. But it’s been silent for the second day.
Turning off the stove to not succumb to panic, I go to the beauty salon for various treatments. After the salon, I go on a shopping spree. Anything to not think about Matvey’s long absence and his divorce statement. The mobile screen is still empty. No SMS or missed calls from Matvey.
My heart constricts in fear. I can’t think of anything better than to call my friends and suggest meeting up. They are all single, so they have a lot of free time after work. From our university group, I was the only one who got married at twenty. The other girls, whom I was friends with, focused on their careers.
A few friends respond to the offer to have coffee. They are free, and they have no plans for the evening after work. Polina, Rita, and Masha arrive almost simultaneously. All a bit tired after a day’s work, but still full of energy and enthusiasm. They excitedly share their latest news. Polina got a promotion, Rita went on vacation to Argentina, and Masha bought an apartment.
‘What’s new with you, Yulia?’ asks Rita. ‘Just don’t say you’re still a clucking hen.’
‘I’m a clucking hen.’
Friends sometimes tease me for becoming a housewife and dedicating myself to my husband. Like, why did you study at Moscow State University? To serve a man? It’s just that none of them have a serious man, and they don’t understand what it’s like to truly love and be loved. Masha lived with some guy for six months, but they split up. Rita had many romances during college, but they ended in nothing. And now my friend is fully immersed in work, and she has no time for dates. As for Polina, she has huge demands. There’s even a whole list of criteria that a man must meet to appeal to her. I’m not sure such a man even exists in nature.
I don’t tell my friends about my pregnancy and the prospect of divorce with Matvey. I don’t want unnecessary questions, pity, and sympathy. Besides, maybe we won’t divorce at all. Matvey wasn’t seriously planning to leave me pregnant.
‘Okay, girls, I need to go home. It’s already late.’
‘It’s only eleven o’clock!’ Polina exclaims.
‘It’s very late for a married girl.’
‘Oh, what, your Matvey won’t sleep without you?’ Rita taunts.
‘I hope he doesn’t sleep.’
The girls roll their eyes simultaneously.
‘You dragged us to the cafe and you’re the first to bail,’ says Masha.
‘Because I need to go to my husband.’
‘We have to work early tomorrow, but no, we’re still sitting.’
‘No, girls, I need to go home,’ I quickly take out money from my wallet and leave it on the table for my order. ‘Thanks for agreeing to meet.’
‘Well, alright,’ Rita draws out sadly. ‘But we’ll sit a bit longer.’
‘Yes, you sit longer.’
To avoid further attempts to keep me, I rush out of the cafe. Outside, I call a taxi and wait a long time for the car. I’m scared to go home. I’m scared to enter the apartment and not see Matvey there.
He did come back, right? Surely he won’t actually live in a hotel for so long!
‘What if he’s not at a hotel, but with some girl?’ a poisonous thought creeps into my head. I quickly dismiss it. No, that’s excluded. Matvey doesn’t cheat on me. He said so himself, and I believe him.
But when I step over the threshold of the apartment, and I’m met with tomb-like silence, my fingers start shaking, and tears well up in my throat. I slowly start to realize that divorce isn’t something ephemeral. Divorce is right there, almost before my eyes.
Tears stream down my face, I can’t stop them. I lean my forehead against the wall in the bedroom and quietly sob. I refuse to accept this reality, it’s impossible. However, the longer I cry, the more acutely I feel my loneliness. I fill up with it, become saturated through and through.
Matvey is gone. Matvey has left me alone.
I bang my head against the wall several times. Then I slide to the floor and pull my legs under me. I wail in tears, rocking back and forth. I dream that the apartment door slams and Matvey walks in. But I only hear silence. It seems to mock me, taunt me.
Somehow, I find the strength to crawl to the computer. I log into my account on the state services website and see a notification that Matvey Alekseyevich Poletaev has filed for divorce with me. I must confirm.
I tremble like a leaf. Pain, panic, fear, horror grip me. A hot droplet of sweat slides down my spine. My temples pulse: ‘Matvey is gone forever, Matvey is gone forever.’ I cover my mouth with my palm to suppress the scream bursting out.
This is the end. This is the real end.
With trembling fingers, I confirm the divorce. And at that moment, it’s like a switch flips in my head. From love to hate.
