Vera Klimova was born in an average Soviet family of factory workers. Her parents saved some money and sold their country house on the picturesque riverbank for their daughter to move and study in Moscow. They believed their daughter would be an excellent student with her knowledge thirst and talent for the visual arts. The Headmaster of the school where Vera studied, made patronage to one of the Moscow Universities of design and architecture and also helped with the student hostel. The Klimovs could not hold their tears while packing Vera’s bags before her leaving for Moscow. On the one hand, they were desperately going to miss their only child, and on the other, the only job opportunity in a small town was a post-Soviet factory, a miniature of the whole Soviet and post-Soviet inefficient and failed command economic system. It certainly wasn’t a right place for smart and talented Vera, the winner of all high school educational competitions and Olympics in drawing, graphics, and design. Another additional incentive to send their daughter to the capital city of Russia was Dima, her boyfriend from a family of conventional alcoholics. He worked at the factory and put away a lot of booze on weekends, so for Vera's parents, Dima's future without higher education, studies and career growth was transparent and clear as a rock crystal. In the future they didn't want to see Vera wearing a washed-out dressing gown, with hungry children and hard drunk husband.
After graduating from high school with ease and honors, Vera quickly found a job in a company that produced designer furniture and decor. Oleg was the second client who ordered an interior solution for his country house.
Tall, statuesque, wearing an expensive suit and shoes so much cleaned and shiny, that you could use them as a couple of rear-view mirrors while autumn rainy driving. Oleg could not help impressing and fascinating a young twenty-three-year-old girl at a first sight. In comparison with Dima presenting her with a chocolate bar and field daisies plucked nearby the factory, Oleg did not just seem, but really was a kind of a celestial for Vera.
She stayed with him right after their first date. Vera had neither intention nor desire to say “No”.
And now the order was ready, furniture and decor for a country house were designed, manufactured and delivered on time. Vera understood that she might not see Oleg again and was afraid of the foregoing final conversation.
The conversation did take place, but not the one she had expected.
"Babe, I'm married. I like you very much, I'm crazy about you, but I won't leave my wife," he took a sip of water and called for the waiter.
Late autumn drizzled outside, but Vera's jacket was wet with cold sweat, and she felt as if there was a puddle under her chair, it seemed she was melting like a snowman by the fireplace, she stood up and looked around.
The waiter came over and helped her to sit down, while her lover looked through the menu with no attention.
"I'll have Caesar and duck in cranberry sauce." Dear, what would you like? Oleg asked solicitously.
Vera shook her head, nausea rising in her throat:
"I'll have some water and lemon, please."
When the waiter left, Oleg continued calmly.
"Don't worry, sugar. I really want to date you. Really. I want to spend my time with you. I rented an apartment for you in Sadovy Blvd it’s in the center. I'm more comfortable there, near my office. And your job is nearby. Here are the keys and the apartment number. My assistant Igor will send the money on your card so you can go there right away. Everything is as it should be. I will see you there after you move to your new place. We will celebrate. If anything happens, call Igor, he will help you order movers or whatever. I'll be out of touch for a few days, flying away on business. Don't be bored. Take care of your new home. Bye. Stay here and feel free to order something else. Tell them to add your order on me”.
He was such a handsome and statuesque as on the first day of the meeting. He went to the exit, talked on the phone, the driver hurried to open the door of an executive class car. Vera followed Oleg with her eyes until his car disappeared into the traffic. The waiter interrupted her thoughts:
"Anything else?" Do you want the menu?
Vera curled her icy fingers into fists under the table.
"Yes, red wine, please." Bottle.
– Just a moment. It will be served.
Two years have passed since then. And now Vera was also clutching a bottle of dry red wine in the kitchen with her icy fingers. She was still in her memories.