I can’t believe that Matthew has left forever. It can’t be. He’s just wound up because of the mess in the apartment that I caused. I was definitely wrong to tear up and cut all his things. Matthew will cool down and come back home. We are a family, after all. And now we are going to have a baby. How can we even talk about divorce? Nonsense.
To keep from drowning in self-pity and depression, I start cleaning the apartment. I forbid myself to think about the scandal with my husband and his divorce filing. Matthew and I will definitely make up, and the empty fuss will only harm the baby.
I manage to abstract from the bad. I fully dive into household chores. I collect Matthew’s ruined things, sweep up the shards. There end up being several large bags of trash. Afterward, I go to the online store where Matthew usually buys things and order him new clothes: suits, ties, jeans, t-shirts. The courier will bring them in a few days.
It’s already late, past midnight, but I still go to cook dinner. I roast meat in the oven, as Matthew likes, and make his favorite grilled vegetables. Half past one. Matthew is not home. Fine. I won’t call, let him stay at a hotel. He’ll come home tomorrow.
But the next day Matthew doesn’t come. I push the panic away, continue to wait for my husband. To keep myself busy, I pull out photo albums, review our wedding photos. We look so happy and in love. We had a very beautiful wedding. Just like I dreamed. Then we went on a honeymoon to the tropical islands. Two weeks, not a minute apart. I thought our happiness was endless.
When it’s late in the evening and Matthew is still not there, pushing away the panic becomes harder. With every thought that the divorce is real, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I can’t comprehend it, it’s unbelievable. My brain simply refuses to accept the thought of divorce. No, this can’t be happening.
On Monday, I realize I need to distract myself as much as possible, otherwise, I’ll go crazy from the torturous waiting. I cook new food for Matthew. He’s working today, will probably be back around nine. I make borscht and several of my husband’s favorite salads. I constantly glance at my phone screen, checking for any messages from Matthew. Usually, my husband texts me during the day. But it’s been quiet for two days now.
After turning off the stove, to avoid succumbing to panic, I go to a beauty salon for various treatments. After the salon, I treat myself to a shopping spree. Anything to not think about Matthew’s long absence and his divorce filing. My mobile screen is still empty. No texts or missed calls from Matthew.
My heart clenches in fear. I can think of nothing better than to call my friends and suggest a meetup. They’re all single, so they have a lot of free time after work. Of our university group, I was the only one who got married at twenty. The other girls I was friends with focused on their careers.
Several friends respond to the invitation for coffee. They’re free and have no plans for the evening after work. Pauline, Rita, and Maria arrive almost simultaneously. All a bit tired after a day’s work, but still full of energy and enthusiasm. They eagerly share their latest news. Pauline got a promotion, Rita took a vacation in Argentina, and Maria bought an apartment.
‘What’s new with you, Julia?’ Rita asks. ‘Just don’t say you’re still the same old hen.’
‘I’m a hen.’
The girls sometimes tease me for becoming a housewife and dedicating myself to my husband. Like, why did you even study at Moscow State University? To serve a man? They just don’t have any serious men in their lives, and they don’t understand what it’s like to truly love and be loved. Maria lived with some guy for six months, but they split up. Rita had many flings during her student days, but they led nowhere. And now, my friend is all about work, and she’s not interested in dating. As for Pauline, she has huge demands. There’s even a whole list of criteria that a man must meet to interest 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 Matthew. I don’t want unnecessary questions, pity, and sympathy. Besides, maybe we won’t get divorced at all. Matthew can’t seriously be thinking of leaving me pregnant.
‘Alright, girls, I need to go home. It’s late already.’
‘It’s only eleven o’clock!’ Pauline protests.
‘It’s very late for a married girl.’
‘Oh, what, Matthew can’t sleep without you?’ Rita scoffs.
‘I hope he can’t.’
The girls roll their eyes simultaneously.
‘You dragged us to the café and you’re the first to bail,’ Maria says.
‘Because I need to be with my husband.’
‘And we have to work early tomorrow, but here we still sit.’
‘No, girls, I need to go home,’ I quickly pull money from my wallet and leave it on the table for my order. ‘Thanks for agreeing to meet up.’
‘Oh, alriiiight,’ Rita draws out sadly. ‘We’ll stay a bit longer.’
‘Yes, you stay.’
To avoid new attempts to keep me there, I hurry to the exit of the café. Outside, I call a taxi and wait a long time for the car. I’m terrified to go home. I’m terrified to enter the apartment and not see Matthew there.
He must have returned, right? He can’t really be living 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 impossible. Matthew doesn’t cheat on me. He said so himself, and I believe him.
But when I step through the apartment door and am met with a grave silence, my fingers start trembling, and tears well up in my throat. I slowly begin to understand 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 intensely I feel my loneliness. I am filled with it, saturated through and through.
Matthew has left. Matthew has left me alone.
Several times I bang my head against the wall. Then I slide to the floor and curl up my legs. I howl in tears, rocking back and forth. I dream that the apartment door will slam and Matthew will walk in. But I only hear silence. It seems to mock me, to taunt me.
Somehow, I find the strength to crawl to the computer. I log into my account on the government services site and see a notification that Matthew Alexander Poletov has filed for divorce from me. I must confirm.
I tremble like an aspen leaf. I am seized by pain, panic, fear, horror. A hot droplet of sweat slides down my spine. My temples pulse: ‘Matthew has left forever, Matthew has left forever.’ I cover my mouth with my palm to suppress the scream that’s bursting forth.
This is the end. This is the real end.
With trembling fingers, I confirm the divorce. And at that moment, it’s as if a switch flips in my mind. From love to hatred.
