I came back early from the dacha, and in my soul, water was rushing. On the coat rack hung lace lingerie, size fifty. It was my best friend.
Thursday has that terrible property of ruining plans exactly at the moment when you are already set for absolute idyll.
The rain poured so heavily that the car wipers couldn’t keep up with the streams, turning the windshield into a murky, crying aquarium. All the romance of the countryside evening was washed down the drain in half an hour.
I turned the key in the lock, dreaming only of hot tea, dry wool socks, and silence.
The apartment greeted me with a strange, dense warmth, as if someone had been heating the air intensely just moments before.
Usually, it’s cool here, but now, as soon as I crossed the threshold, my face was hit by a humid wave, like in a tropical greenhouse. I kicked off my wet sneakers, trying not to step on puddles, and flung my bag onto the ottoman.
My gaze instinctively swept across the hallway, checking the usual order of things.
And then I froze, as if I had run into an invisible wall. Where my modest beige coat usually hung, THERE hung IT.
Bright red, lace, provocatively revealing body lingerie.
The size was impressive—a solid fifty, if not more. The cups resembled two small parachutes ready for immediate deployment behind enemy lines. The fabric seemed to scream of sin, passion, and desperation all at once.
Darkness crept into my eyes. I knew that size too well. I knew that inexplicable love for the shade of “fire truck in hysteria.”
Svetka.
My best friend from school, with whom I had gone through fire, water, and the copper pipes of final exams.
The one who was always whining about the lack of “real men” within a hundred kilometers, consoling herself with caloric desserts. The one who swore eternal female solidarity even at my wedding.
— Ah, you treacherous viper — I whispered, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks, burning my skin. — While I’m hoeing the garden in freezing rain, you’re tending to my Igor?!
From the depths of the apartment, from the bathroom, came a sound.
It was the sound of water. Not just a delicate murmur, but a powerful, confident gurgle, like when the tap is open full blast. And through this waterfall, voices pierced. Muted, strange, ragged, full of tension.
I stood in the hallway, clenching my fists so tightly my fingers went numb.
The world, familiar, cozy, and safe, was collapsing right now, to the accompaniment of rushing water and my shattered hopes. Betrayal always comes unannounced, but with someone else’s lingerie in the hallway.
I took a step forward, placing my feet softly, like a cat before a leap. Not because I was afraid of dirtying the floor, but to become an absolutely silent shadow. A huntress in her own jungle of wallpaper and parquet.
A ridiculous, completely inappropriate thought ran through my mind: “I wonder if they took my favorite scrubbing brush or brought their own?” Anger became cold, clear, and sharp as a shard of ice.
The parquet creaked treacherously underfoot, but the water’s roar effectively hid my approach. The voices grew louder, clearer.
— Igor, come on! — Svetka’s voice sounded plaintive, with a theatrical breath. — Push harder! A little more! It hurts, but I’ll endure!
— Push where?! — Igor’s voice was tense, with a characteristic grunt, like when assembling furniture on weekends, when the parts absolutely don’t fit together. — Slippery! Everything is slippery! I can’t get a grip!
The image in my head painted itself so vividly that I wanted to wash my brain immediately with household soap.
In our small, cozy bathroom? Together? Svetka with her luxurious proportions and Igor, whose back had been complaining since he carried too many buckets of potatoes at the dacha?
— Try from the other side! — the friend whimpered, almost crying. — Somehow grab it!
— There’s nothing to grab! — shouted my husband, and I heard the sound of something falling onto the tiles. — Everything’s smooth like an ice rink!
I slid slowly down the wall, feeling my strength drain from my body.
The air in the hallway became thick, heavy like jelly. That’s what reality looked like now. While I dreamed of a quiet family evening, they staged an acrobatic performance here.
We can pause here for a moment, because the story in the bathroom is gaining an absolutely comic, surreal momentum, full of physical and emotional tension.
