SONYA POV
The last thing I wanted right now was to resemble this impenetrable woman. A lump of stones, not a person.
Silently, so as not to raise new questions, I grabbed the glass, but as soon as I brought it to my nose, a new wave of pain cramped my stomach. I grimaced.
"Does something hurt?" I nodded silently. "You're not sleeping, are you?" I jerk my head forward again, like some kind of doll. "Have you eaten lately?"
I hang here, because I can't remember when and what I ate the last time. The days were mixing into a homogeneous mess, and even the night could not separate this monotony.
Not even that. At night it only got worse, because I was finally alone with myself and thought. I reveled in my own pain and remembered every word Max said.
"You know what?" She blurted out. "You should go home. Is there anyone to take you?"
"Of course," she furtively wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. I need to run away from here as soon as possible, because someone else's sympathy is even worse than indifference.
And they sympathized with me. And from that pitiful look, my heart was torn to pieces. "They'll come for me now, I decided to celebrate the New Year with my family."
Of course, that's not true. At least because my family doesn't care about me, and I haven't seen my father for the last twenty years and I don't know if he's even alive. But Nina doesn't need to know about that.
I took the folders from the table and tried to squeeze out of the office sideways.
"And the certificate?" she waved a gray-blue piece of paper in the air. At the last moment, I grabbed it from the judge's dry, hooked fingers and hurried downstairs.
When I had already approached the parking lot, the phone rang.
"Hi, Mom," I never expected anything good from her calls. And this time, my premonition told me to hang up right away.
"Happy New Year, Happy New Happiness!" it became clear from her tone that my parent was no longer sober.
"Mom, I'm a little busy right now."
"And you're all busy. You're busy, my beloved son-in-law is busy too. You've completely forgotten me."
Everything inside me went cold.
"Did you call Max?"
"Of course. And who else would congratulate him if not his beloved mother-in-law?" There was a loud hiccup on the other end of the line.
"Anyone except you." I took a breath. "Max and I got divorced."
There was silence on the line.
A few seconds passed before Mom asked her main question:
"I hope you didn't play the nobleman and sued him for the apartment?"
"This apartment is the Max' property, it never belonged to me, and you know it."
"You're a fool, Sonya, that's what I know." Mom sighed sadly. "Okay, I'll call Max find out what else my daughter did, and why she ran away from you."
"He ran away, Mom, because" I hesitated, but forced myself to say the most important thing: "because he's going to have a child. Not from me."
My mother laughed nervously. I could just picture her: in a knee-length robe, with a glass of prosecco in her hands. She didn't drink, she enjoyed life with all its blessings. If anything, this is a quote. Taking care of a daughter was not considered a blessing, not in my childhood, and certainly not now.
"History repeats itself. Just like your dad. True, when he left for his bardibel, I already had you."
"And you really appreciated it. That's why you abandoned me to my grandparents."
"It's easy to judge your mother. I'll see what you would do if you had children."
"But I don't have them, but I do have a psychologist, if you need, I can offer you his contact. An excellent specialist." My nose began to tingle, as it always did during conversations with my mother.
The only thing that distinguished this call from a hundred others was that Max was not there to hold my hand and console me when I started crying later. And I will definitely start.
Damn, I'm already crying.
"A psychologist for me?! I'm not sick. Unlike..."
She continued talking until I hung up. Nothing new. How do you say... on New Year's Eve with old problems? That's me. I leaned my back against the hood of the car and exhaled, probably too sharply, because I felt sick again.
***
A 24-hour pharmacy opened right in our residential complex, and I, with bags and a phone clamped between my ear and shoulder, stumbled into it half an hour before midnight.
If it weren't for the holiday, if it weren't for the weekend ahead, if it weren't for the overwhelming feeling of nausea, I would have already been home. I ate store-bought Olivier salad with The Irony of Fate. I didn't have the strength to cook for myself.
"Good evening. I mean, good night." I smiled wearily at the pharmacist, "please give me something for nausea. In ampoules, so it helps faster."
"Injections right away? Is there anything else bothering you besides nausea?"
I thought about it. Insomnia, hysterics, nervous breakdown and panic attacks - do they count? And I would have responded with some kind of barb, but I didn't want to ruin the holiday for a charming lady with tinsel instead of a scarf and a hat with a pompom on her head.
"Only nausea." I repeated with emphasis. There was no trace of good-natured politeness on my face. "Please, hurry up, I'm in a hurry."
"Morning, evening? On hunger or after a meal?"
"None of your business."
"And my mood is jumping," the saleswoman said as if to the side. "Maybe we should start with a pregnancy test?"
"You can start with anything, but give me what I asked for."
The pharmacist winked at me cheerfully, but went to the shelves to look for the necessary medicines. She returned with four packages.