- Darling! I’m back home. And I’ve brought some wine for you. It’s your favorite Muscat.
That’s a good girl! My dear wife does care for me. She knows my weaknesses and ministers to them from time to time. Besides, having a little of good wine will do nothing but good to my cardio-vascular system.
My wife has returned from Moscow. Three days ago her college girl friend called. She broke news that shattered us. Her husband Vitaly had died. A young guy, just fifty-two years old. He didn’t ail, he didn’t fail. On Friday he was at work. On Saturday he complained of the heart to his wife and went to bed. On Sunday he didn’t wake up.
Vitaly is quite a character. He had come to Moscow as a guy from the country. He worked on a construction site. He graduated from college. Became a foreman and then a head of the site. Of late, he has been a vice-president of major construction company. He lived in an apartment of a deceased academician where a novice would get lost. He drove a posh foreign-made car. In the suburb of Moscow he had built a luxury house. But wasn’t fortunate to live in it. A vagrant thrombosis stopped his heart. Vitaly had suffered from hypertension, but had no time for treatment.
- How is Nadya doing? – I asked my wife as entered the house.
- She’s putting up a good show. But won’t mention Vitaly. She lived with him as if he were a concrete pillar. She didn’t work. Vitaly made more than enough. And now she will have to pay a rent that will ruin her.
- Anything else interesting?
- Lyuba’s Pa is dead. This ended her money supply. He was in the foreign trade, you know. Lyuba fussed about just a bit and came together again with her Veryovkin man. How she didn’t love him, I told you lots of times. Wedded him with tears in her eyes.
I poured wine into a large goblet for myself and a small glass for my wife.
- Isn’t it too much for you? – my wife asked. – Don’t you suffer from hypertension?
- Wine is good for me, - I said taking a few swallows of the fragrant Muscat.
What a wine! A light languor grips me. Instantly, life becomes so pleasant.....
My wife puts down on the table in front of me some boiled potatoes and a saucer with sea-kale. I am eating.
Our daughter and dog, the German shepherd Lara, enter the kitchen. The daughter makes herself comfortable opposite me. She too is eating.
Lara comes up to me. She pokes her cool muzzle into my lap.
Go away! – I tell her.
Lara wouldn’t obey. So, I raised my voiced.
- Go to your place!
With an evident unwillingness Lara goes to her place in the corner of the kitchen.
- That’s a good girl! – I look over the table, searching for a reward for the dog. I’ve eaten up all my potatoes.
So, I hold out my hand with a fork and break off a piece of potato from my daughter’s plate.
My daughter immediately pouts her lips.
- What’s brought you into my plate?
- Honey! I’ve taken just a bit for our dog.
- What does it matter? Am I any worse than a dog?
- Why do you speak so? Do you grudge a piece of potato for the dog?
- I just hate it when somebody invades my plate.
- I’m not a somebody for you. I’m your father.
- So what?!
- How dare you speak so? – I say with burgeoning irritation.
That’s when my wife interferes.
- Leave the girl alone! Why not let her eat?
- Me? Not letting my daughter eat?
My blood (heated up by the Muscat) rushes to my head.
- Don’t I stay glued to the PC day and night for your grub!
- What? Are you rebuking us for a piece of bread?
- I’m not rebuking anybody! I’m just telling the truth.
- Oh how tired I am of your truths!
- Aren’t you tired of me, dear?
- Oh, terribly. Sick and tired.
- Sick of me?
I fly into a rage. I make a dash from the kitchen to the sitting room. I grab a one hundred ruble bill from the sideboard and rush off to the shop. Some ten minutes later I am back in my room with a bottle of port.
I jerked out the cork and poured wine into the glass.
That’s how it is… I don’t let them eat. They are sick and tired of me. I’ve become a nuisance to them…
The wine is flowing into me, glass after glass.
What a nice daughter I’ve got! Speaks to her father like a boy on the street. No respect. And who cradled her such a short time ago? I provide for food, and drink, and clothing. I pay for her education at college. And now – this.
And the son is just as good. A big guy, two heads taller than me. He works one job and earns extra on the side. But does he contribute one single cent to the family budget? Nope! He puts all his money away for a coveted car.
As for me, I finished the job at three in the morning. At four I went to bed. At five I fell asleep. At nine I got up. An urgent assignment to attend to.
I don’t ask for anything from anybody (except some Muscat from my wife on Friday night).
As I was sent recently on a tour of duty to Germany, I discovered that I had no trousers. That’s a fine how d’ye do… I ran to the market and bought jeans.
I’m becoming more and more drunk… My thoughts get confused and I suddenly fall asleep, like falling into an abyss.
Towards the morning I woke up in a cold sweat. The gnawing pain in the chest, as if there were a pot of hot potatoes there. What should I do? Spasmodically, my hand grope around and discovere a bottle. Lo and behold! There’s more than half of a glass in it! Thank you, Lord!
I drank a glass… A few minutes later I felt better. Or was it the thrombosis that passed away?
My wife entered the semi-darkness of the room.
She saw an empty bottle.
- What are you doing? – she asked.
- I’m drinking wine.
- You are not drinking. You are guzzling by liters. Haven’t you got hypertension? Or do you want to croak?
- I wish I would. And join Vitaly.
My wife sat down and snuggled up next to me.
- You mustn’t hurry up to that place.
She thought over something for a moment and added with a sigh:
- Know what, my good man? Living with you is real hard. But life without you would be harder still.
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