Vera the Mistress

"I just wanted to say thanks and say goodbye."

– The doctor has a consultation now, I'm sorry, you can't see him.

Vera had already turned to leave when the communicator on the secretary's desk asked for two coffees in the voice of the chief doctor.

"And juice, Tosha, I need fresh juice," the voice on the speakerphone said with a loud laugh.

– Dasha, bring two coffees and fresh orange juice, please.

– Of course, Anatoly Ivanovich.

– Vera Sergeevna? – the secretary has already left the table and addressed the girl, – Can I help you with anything else?

"No, no, thank you. Tell me, who is in Anatoly Ivanovich's office now?

– This is closed information, – Daria shrugged her shoulders and swam to make coffee and fresh orange juice on perfectly long and straight legs for her boss and ArinaBryantseva, Oleg's wife.

Vika made tea with berries and melissa, put the tray on the small coffee table, and sat down on the sofa next to Vera.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Are you going to be silent for a long time?" What happened?

– Nothing. All right.

Vika nodded and went into the hall.

"Where are you going?" Vera got up weakly from the sofa and threw off the blanket, shivering, although there was no temperature.

– Home.

– Vika, wait, and tea?

Always temperamental and cheerful friend exploded like a bomb:

– Tea? What kind of tea, Vera? You're in a clinic, you've had fainting spells, surgery, and abortion, which, by the way, is not listed in this statement. It's listed in the history of your medicine cabinet. What the hell, friend? Are you a normal person? Why don't I know anything?

Vicki's green eyes burned with righteous fire. She was standing in the corridor in one boot and an unbuttoned raincoat. Angry, brave, and beautiful.

"Vic, I'm sorry, I couldn't tell you, it's embarrassing and painful.

"So I'm a stranger to you?"

– No, not a stranger, sorry, – Vera sighed and trudged to the sofa, she took the cup and took a small sip, then resolutely took a deep breath.

Vika listened with her mouth open, still sitting on the sofa in her raincoat, her boot in her hands, having forgotten to take it to the corridor. Vera told about Oleg, about their secret affair, which lasts more than a year, told about the abortion, about travel, about calls from his wife, meeting, and events of the last days.

Twilight faded into the late evening, and then into the night. The girls were sitting on the sofa, one occasionally crying and falling silent, while the other only nodded sympathetically and shook her head.

Vera finished her story and covered her face with her hands. She felt lighter as if a heavy stone had fallen from her shoulders and was pressing her to the ground. A secret affair with a married man was no longer just her secret.

But for some reason, Vika was more interested in his wife than in Oleg.

"Verushka, dear, this is not the worst thing, believe me. We all make mistakes. You're still young, but I'm five years older than you, and I once slept with a married man.

Vera looked at her friend gratefully. She knew that Vika was telling all this to comfort her, but saint Vika, the mother of an equally fair four-year-old beauty daughter and the wife of a famous Moscow lawyer, could not be.

– Yes, before I met Misha, I worked as a designer in Novosibirsk, you know, but you don't know why I moved to Moscow. My boss, Roman Andreevich, was an elementary womanizer and a freak. But that doesn't mean it's not my fault. Guilty, Ver, of course, guilty. A twenty-year-old naive fool who fell for the sweet speeches, speeches, and empty chatter of an elderly ladies ' man. Naturally, at the corporate party, it happened right in his office. It was later that I found out that all our women's team had been there before me, including the accountant ValentinaVladimirovna, his age, with whom he had had affairs twenty years ago when both were young and hot. His wife, who had long endured his infidelities and debauchery, for some reason went berserk on me. Not only did she make a scene at my house in front of my parents, but she also brought her children to work so they could see "daddy's new whore." The entire team was in shock, each with fear thought that in my place could be it. But many of our women also had families and children. My affair with Roman Andreevich ended with a couple of times of dubious quality of comfort in the office before it had time to begin and flourish. The hero-lover cowardly suggested that I write of my own accord, which I did with great pleasure. My parents calmed me down and blessed me for Moscow. And I, Verunchik, am happy that I came here. Here I met Misha, my love, my happiness. But he has not yet shown me his documents and passport with an empty column about marital status, I even forbade him to kiss. We're still laughing. He, by the way, that's why he married me, said that he had never seen anyone like me. And I told him that I had vowed never to have any personal dealings with married men in my life.

Vera never talked to her friend about her personal life. She knew the Volokh family, sometimes went to birthday parties, but always alone. Vera was silent about her married lover, and Vika pretended not to notice her secretive personal life. Vera did not know that in the past, Victoria had such an instructive and difficult story, although with a happy ending. And Vika, in turn, having heard her friend's story, felt that the situation had gone too far. Vika realized that Vera had already lost this battle. The main thing is that ArinaBryantseva in this unequal struggle felt sorry and let go of the stupid fool. Although in the back of her mind, something told Vika that Ara did not take prisoners and shot them on the spot.

Chapter 8

Oleg Bryantsev has always been a very exemplary boy, a loving son, and a caring grandson. He loved his mother and grandmother very much. In fairness, it should be noted that mother Olga and grandmother Zina loved Oleg thousands and millions of times more. If this overprotection and putting a child on a pedestal as a little God can be called love.

Oleg's father left the family when the boy was eighteen years old. Having suffered in eternal quarrels and scandals about the upbringing of the child, the family broke up, the father was forbidden to punish the boy for pranks, give him to sports or take him fishing. It was a pity to punish him, he could get injured in sports, and in nature – catch a cold. The slightest desire of a man to teach his son was met with hostility. And it ended with another stupid and vulgar scandal.

Grandmother Zina, who came from the countryside to help with her grandson, remained in Moscow. Bryantsev senior's apartment was a large one, left as a legacy by rich and distinguished relatives. His great-aunt had no children, and the only heir was a grandson her dear and beloved sister, Maxim Bryantsev, Oleg's father.

Having met Olya at an exhibition of paintings, a modest, visiting girl studying the art of the Silver age, Maxim just a few months later made an offer. Pair of Bryantsevs was a demonstration among the society of artists and the Bohemia of Moscow. Quiet, intelligent, and smiling Maxim and Olga carefully hid their main life cross, they tried to get pregnant for a long time, but fate, generous in everything, did not give them a child for many years.

Maxim was forty, Olga was thirty-eight.

– Pregnant! – with joy and relief, the district gynecologist reported.

The late pregnancy was severe. Olya went blue from toxicosis and thin from headaches and nausea. In the last months, she was put on storage. And behold, at the beginning of the ninth month, the long-awaited first child, OlezhkaBryantsev, was born.

The boy was very weak and sickly. Baba Zina rushing to help her daughter, and it was reliable support and help. They took turns sleeping, the little boy screamed from colic and often had a fever. In the first three years of life, three adults never got eight hours of sleep each. Oleg was ill with all children's and adult diseases, lay in all hospitals, managed to break not only his hands but also his legs on the playground, so until he was three years old, they did not let him down and did not lose sight of him.

A little later it became easier, the boy got a little stronger, almost equal in height and weight with his peers, was ill once every six months and almost never missed school.

The family returned to its usual rhythm of life, Maxim and Olga were engaged in work in the field of art, and Olga's mother helped around the house and with Oleg.

– Pregnant, – the district gynecologist looked at Olga.

In the house until the morning there was a discussion, Olga decided to give birth, although Maxim was against it. The mother was on her daughter's side.

The miscarriage occurred almost at the sixth month, or rather, the child could not stand the virus that Olga got sick with, and died in utero. She asked not to tell the gender of the unborn child, even though she knew in her heart that it was a girl. She had already secretly named her, Eva.

Since then, the Bryantsevs family has had a black streak. Olga gave up her job at the state gallery and devoted herself to her son. And if his grandmother had taken care of him before, now both women were praying for him. At first, the husband blamed his wife's insanity on a severe loss and then realized that the wife had gone mad because of her only son. All-day long they waited for him from school, taking him to music, drawing, and language classes. Maxim wanted to give him to swim but met with such a cruel rebuff that he closed the subject.

Once Oleg, spoiled by two eternal servants, stole a pension from his grandmother's purse and bought binoculars, cigarettes, and chocolate. Maxim wanted to punish the impudent youth, but his mother and grandmother, with bloodshot eyes, rushed at his father and son-in-law like tigresses.

The head of the family began to come home later and later. Then he started staying with a work colleague. But he left the family like a decent man, leaving everything when the child turned eighteen.

Oleg, who had pretty much driven his mother and grandmother with his antics, became subdued after his father left. Looking at himself from the outside, he shook himself up, entered the Moscow Polytechnic, and moved to a hostel. Without his mother and his grandmother, it was difficult for the first few weeks. Then he forgot that someone had cooked for him, washed, cleaned, and ironed. He made friends with his classmates and was surprised to discover football and swimming.