Revenge – served cold

" First I'll formalize her. And tell Mr.Roberts about the arrival. And that the letter will be fully translated tomorrow.”

I clapped my eyes shut. I didn't expect it to be so mundane.

__________

* All coincidences are coincidental!

The house Ramila got was on the Leningradskoe highway between Khimki and Zelenograd. She took a bus to the right stop and headed for the house along the broken road.

Honestly, when my friend told me that the house was in the suburbs, I expected it to be much worse, and further away. In fact, it turned out that there is a small gap between Moscow and Moscow suburbs.

The house, too, was much better than one could assume: one floor, four rooms with a veranda and a bathhouse.

And what pleased me most of all was the neighboring street from the road. And to go not far and nothing in the room from the rushing past trucks does not bounce.

" How was it? " Ramilya asked, leaning out of the window up to her waist.

" They got me.”

" Yes! " Ramilya jumped up, almost falling out of the window. " Ours won!”

I didn't say anything and went into the house. Personally, I wasn't at all sure of victory. Tomorrow is the first day of work, and I will meet with him. How will our meeting go? What will he say to me?

"You've been hired, so why are you so glum? " Ramila asked.

" I don't want to see him," I confessed.

" He doesn't want to see you… Or rather, he doesn't expect to see you. I can imagine him coming into the waiting room and seeing you… God, why can't I see his face at that moment?!”

Ramila laughed and disappeared into the kitchen again. I took off my clothes and changed into an old laundered robe. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and slipped into my trampled slippers. It took about ten minutes, along with removing my makeup, and the whole time I regretted that I'd given in to my friend's entreaties.

I wish I'd just turned over a new leaf. Erased Dimitri's phone number or blocked it. I should have done that a week ago. But every time I was going to "dot the dots" saw his last messages, in which he said he loved me, and I couldn't. If I can't even decide to do something so small, how am I going to look him in the eye tomorrow?

" I'm not going anywhere tomorrow," I said, walking into the kitchen.

Ramila turned to me and belligerently displayed a bust covered with red synthetic fabric. Having got rid of parental control, her friend has revised her closet a little, betting on emphasizing her bright appearance.

" That's right. You'll go back to Samara. I'll even take you a ticket.”

I was glad and sank down on a chair. I didn't expect Ramilya to understand and support me. I won't be able to look at him calmly tomorrow. I'm going to cry and let him put new noodles on my ears.

" The walls are closer to home in my own town. Well, don't worry about the job. I've always sensed in you a path of self-sacrifice… You'll go to school as an English teacher. It was offered.”

Ramila finished her speech and, frowning, sat down next to me. In my mind I knew she was right. I should have left back then… insisted on my own way… and maybe Dimitri and I would have gotten married and would be together now.

" Ir, don't be silly. Your Dimitri won't do anything to you. But it's good to get a proper employment record. Honestly, I didn't think you'd get a job at all.”

" Supported, " I grinned.

" What's the big deal? You went to see where your frustrated husband pretends to work. Maybe you'd run into him and spit in his face!”

I silently took an apple from the package and bit into it. Ramila knew where to hit and, as always, hit the target. I didn't have much money. Well, actually, I had some, just from a failed payment. But I had to work. I'm tired of running around with students. And worst of all, my parents… I never told them the truth. They think I've gone to my future husband and we're getting married soon. I've talked about it so much. But when they find out the truth… And then it'll be known to all the relatives. I've been told. Warned me.

" Ramil, borrow a dress, " I suddenly said. " That black, classic.”

" You can take the boat shoes too," my friend smiled triumphantly.

***

A woman's shriek kicked me out of the dream. I jerked upward, then downward as well, collapsing from the narrow bed to the floor, my elbows hitting the floor painfully.

" Are you crazy?!”

Ramila flew in and shook the rolling pin at me belligerently. I was impressed by the look on my friend's face: a stretched T-shirt, disheveled black hair, and a dazed look, and I hurried to deny it:

" It's not me!”

" And who? " Ramila didn't believe her.

" Ah-ah-ah! " I heard a confirmation of my honesty from the yard.

We leaned against the window and looked at a pudgy aunt, dressed in a chintz nightgown that looked like a ghost's shroud, plain-haired and barefoot. She was darting around the garden with the agility of a hippopotamus, running away from a skinny man in a striped alcoholic shirt.

" Get out! " Ramila shouted angrily.

She had an interview in the morning at a salon on Tverskaya Street. The visitors there were wealthy, and the prices were correspondingly high. The stackable salary – just a dream. So to the appearance of the masters requirements were appropriate. And to go there with black eyes – mauveton!

The participants of the race did not pay attention to the owner of the plot. The man continued to chase the "ghost", shaking a metal meter spoon for shoes. Enraged, Ramilya threw a rolling pin at the aggressor. Frenzy corrected her eyesight, and she hit.

Wounded in the remnants of his brain, the man fell to the ground, staring at us dumbfounded. He had no time to say anything. The "victim" flew up to him and put an old iron bucket on his head with a swing. Then, emitting a battle cry, ran away like a racehorse, swinging over the fence. The man, spreading his arms, stretched out on the ground. We looked at each other.

" It's crazy," Ramilya shared her thoughts with me.

" Did she kill him?”

" I hope not. The only thing we need is a corpse in the yard!”

Without wasting time, my friend climbed out the window and went to the defeated, on the way again armed with a rolling pin. Stopping half a meter away, she hesitantly stomped. I, figuring that it would be easier to escape through the door than through the window, rushed out into the hallway. Having jumped out into the street and turned on the lantern over the visor, I asked:

" Well, what is it?”

" I didn't understand yet.”

She decided to achieve mutual understanding in the simplest way – by kicking the man under the ribs. He let out an inarticulate wheeze. I grabbed a five-liter water bottle, which had been living in the hallway since the last owner's time, and ordered:

" Take off the bucket!”

Ramilya took off the bucket, and I immediately threw the water that had long bloomed and had already managed to rot in his face. I don't know whether it was the smell or the effect of surprise. " The man sat up jerkily. We jumped away from him.”