Women are not unicorns - Маргарита Резник

— It’s not true, you and your partners have dividends. You're not paying me. I say wife, I’ll get over it.

— Become a partner. I even said “how,” but you still don’t want to listen to me.

— I can't find twenty representatives. It's difficult! — I start screaming. Him too.

— So it means that you just haven’t grown up to be a partner.

— You're always like that. Why devalue me? You don’t value my books either. You consider me mediocrity. Another husband would have supported and helped promote it a long time ago.

— What to promote? I'm not interested in your books.

— Here you see! I'm basically not interesting to you.

— But why? I'm just not your target audience.

— But you might admire them in principle as a reader. You didn’t write that either.

— I am! Because he's busy with more important things, in case you haven't noticed! — he screams, I start to cry. Just a little bit, but your eyes get wet. “And there’s no need to arouse my pity now.” This is unfair. Stop whining.

— I'm not whining. — I gather my will into a fist. “I just needed our common money, by the way.”

— Oh, general? There are no common ones. Take yours.

— Mine are over.

— I won’t give you mine.

Here you might think that my husband is a tyrant, stingy and generally cruel person. But never judge until you have all the information.

— Their? Their? You earn three times more than me! I have to beg you constantly.

— You went nuts! I give you everything. Look. Wake up. Look around — I give everything to you. Count how much money we have spent on you over the past months and years. By giving. Open your notebook and do the math.

— I won't.

— Why?

— Because it’s still not fair that you earn more than me. I'm no worse, I'm just as smart and capable.

— Is it true? And you studied as much as I did? Do you have the same experience under your belt? You can't even read the book I gave you! — pokes me with a sales book.

— I don’t want to read it, I make high sales even without it. Yes, not this week, but I did it! It’s me who gives you and me income. Thanks to me you earn money.

— Who taught you this? Whose company do you work for?

— You're just a brute! — Go to hell!

That's all. Here my arguments end, I give up. It was true that he started a business that I didn’t really believe in. He is right. But, as always happens in quarrels, the weaker side never admits its guilt, so it throws a grenade as an insult. In response, a larger projectile arrives with a decision to stop the conversation and further communication in general.

We went to different rooms, fortunately, there were two of them and a kitchen, we went to the office separately, sat there in different offices, trying not to provoke ourselves into quarrels.

When we saw each other, we talked about neutral things, but did not apologize.

By August, three months after our wedding, we no longer loved each other. I dreamed of living alone; it would be best to go to Moscow. He made it happen.

One day, at the end of summer, the following conversation ensued between us:

— You know, I need money. (I was really in despair then, I really wanted to learn and couldn’t imagine life without this training. It seemed to me that it would solve all my problems once and for all).

— Understand. I do not have them. (I still didn’t understand the situation the company was in; it was drowning in debt, and my husband didn’t talk about it. He didn’t want to admit it to himself).

— Then I’ll go to work for Nikolai. We will go on tours with him together and earn only our own expenses, without the costs of a large group.

— You know that I consider Nikolai an enemy? — Vladislav narrowed his eyes and this suspicion coupled with hatred alerted me. Apparently I said something wrong.

— Um. You just said that you would separate peacefully, that you would give him Riga and a couple of other cities, perhaps so that he too could survive. Why all this concern if he is the enemy?

— Cities, yes, but a wife?

— I’m not going to go to him as a man. This is work. I need income to pay for the courses.

— It's clear. And I’m no longer important to you, that means.

— Important. But it's just work.

— It's not just a job.

He left, slamming the door. Much later, I found out that that day he almost drove into the oncoming lane, he was in so much pain.

And I, in complete naivety, did not understand the whole drama of his soul. I didn’t feel the same way as he did the betrayal of his partner. I didn’t see Nikolai as an enemy. At most, an extremely unpleasant personality, but on the whole tolerable to work with.

In the evening, my husband returned to get his things and said he would go to a friend in Moscow for a couple of days.

No signs of trouble. I lived my life, only occasionally thinking about the fact that he rarely writes, does not call, and suspiciously disappeared from the radar.

And so it happened, he disappeared. In Moscow, he decided to leave me.

On the thirtieth of August, around midnight, he returned to say:

— I'm leaving.

— Not at all?

— For a while, but perhaps forever.

I start crying, holding myself back, because he doesn’t like it.

— Let's talk.

— Don't want. A lot has already been said. And they came to nothing. I decided. This is one hundred percent. I begin to rush around the kitchen, slowly but surely, like a German soldier. I'm covered