/View.info/ This story may even seem banal to you. What has happened so much? Two people meet, fall in love, wedding, marriage… After – monotonous days, quarrels about bills, gray weekdays and evenings… A six-month separation and a family, welded together for seven years, is split in two.
Everyone takes his own path with the secret hope that he will meet the best. Not the first divorce, nor will it be the last. For others, it is a spicy thought for a few days. For the heroes of the separation, it is probably a painful wound that will bleed for a long time. Or a heavy sigh of relief – it’s finally over!
It’s like. At first glance, it really is banal. But only at first glance…
HE: One morning, while I was drinking my coffee alone because Nevyana had gone to work, I noticed that the computer was on. I hit enter and gasped in surprise: my Nevyana was on the monitor. With three pictures. All three in that black sex underwear she showed up in the first night of my return. One pose is in the corridor – straight and legged, with arms raised up, the other is in the bedroom, kneeling and biting into a banana, over which a slightly cross-eyed and lustful gaze peeks out, and the third – in the bathroom…In our bathroom, where my faithful she stretched out her arms like Christ and rested her back on the tiles… I was turned around by blue and red circles, I lit a cigarette or two to come to my senses… And I read the information about her: She is not Nevyana, but just Yana , she is not 28 years old, but wrote at 26, the phone number is different, there are probably two…I am reading, and someone calls Paris from the chat: “Where are you, dear, call me!” This will be my partner in bed, I shout, the man who has stood in for me during these disgusting 198 days. So, I said to myself, while I was guarding the Kabul airport from the Taliban, the sex-Taliban had taken over my family stronghold, and with help from the inside. I had bet my life for 72 euros a day, she was having fun with this Paris… Cherche la femme, as someone like me liked to say, only from the French Legion… “Shut me up”… Well, here, I mocked you, dear Jana… And a tiger roared in my chest… In the evening, before she even opened her mouth to say good evening, I slapped and kicked her: dirty bitch, Paris, huh? Here’s a Paris! I brushed her off with a fight…But of course I didn’t do that. I decided I’d play onion-eating, onion-smelling to see how far it would go. I didn’t give any indication that I smelled the nasty scam. On the contrary – I was more attentive, smiling… Let him think that I’m the balama, the dumb cuckold who, according to the recipes of the world gadoria, is the last to learn about his wife’s crushes. I pretended to be distracted, but I watched how she fussed in the morning in front of the mirror, how much she changed her clothes to look sexier, her hair… Yes, in women everything is the heart, even the head… And I caught her – exactly at a supposedly March 8 celebration. All night I pretended to be Emil Boev, but everything became extremely clear to me. …And Nevyana came home, only after one o’clock…Oh, it was so fun, we had such fun and I’m so tired…If she’s tired, let her sleep. Isn’t the morning wiser than the evening? And I announced the wisdom while Nevyana Chorlava was dreaming between the coffee and the bathroom: I’m leaving, be happy with Paris! She flinched for a moment, bowed her head and was silent. So I left her. She was no fool to dispute the indisputable. Now I’m looking at photos from Afghanistan, thinking about Nevyana and cursing Yana…
SHE: While Hristo was with me, I didn’t even think about infidelity. When I was sending him to Afghanistan, I cried, I told him that I would wait for him. And I waited…
The first month was spent thinking about him, lost in worries about work, the child, the home… I counted the days and imagined how he would return, how I would meet him… I even dreamed about him.
Sometime in the second month, my colleagues invited me one evening to go and have a treat. We drank wine, joked, chatted…some of their friends came, the company became quite noisy, the orders poured in…I was alone, and I was suffering. Never mind, my colleagues comforted me, enter this site, you will immediately find a partner… One of them even took erotic pictures of me in black underwear… I entered, registered and that’s how the meeting with Paris happened – actually it’s peter. After a week of writing in the chat, but what writing, he even beat me to poetry: And he pecks the keys/ to the last letter/, pulse, heart and breathing/, everything seems to be running… Something long forgotten woke up in me. We even got to a date…Peter turned out to be not only an amazing man, but also a gallant gentleman – flowers, candles, music…everything that bewitches and blurs a lonely woman.
We drove around in his car on weekends, we drove together on holidays, I was in seventh heaven and thought about Christ less and less. I even started the opposite – counting the days until his return with a heavy feeling. I was aware that six months was already a gap between us – my feelings were exposed. The crystal wedding vase was dusted to pieces and soldering was impossible. Because, I thought, one loves something that in our eyes is unique, and he was no longer unique. I asked myself: how will our marriage go now? Can you take a step with one foot if the other foot has no footing? When he returned from a mission, I felt how in just a week the leprosy of alienation had come upon us. Four-sided boredom pressed on us and I had the feeling that I was participating in a marriage grotesque. And with Peter it was different. I didn’t have the strength to admit it to him, I hoped that he would smell the change himself. He understood her and left like a man. I look at the picture of Hristo, and I think of Peter… One thing is missing. Another one is coming. Nature is great because it has gifted us with illusions in which we believe.
That’s it.
#banal #family #story
