Don't leave… Dating story no. 34

They say the opening chords are enough to tell you how good a piece of music is, and that first impressions rarely lie. In spite of all that, Rita somehow let herself be drawn into a relationship that began with a car crash, of all things! Well — what can come of a start like that?

She was driving home from work, thinking about how she would spend her holiday on a sunny terrace by the pool of yet another expensive hotel, sipping a piña colada and reading a book she had been putting off for ages. Stopping at the traffic lights and checking that there was enough space between her and the car in front (she never liked pulling up too close), Rita was working out which book she would start with — and then her car shuddered, everything rattled and roared, her car took a leap forward all by itself and landed elegantly in the back end of the car in front. "Cannon shot," flashed through her head, and then she "lost it". Have they all gone mad — she was standing at a red light!!! Oh, she would show them all! She would take them to court! She would make them buy her a new car!!! Genuinely furious and thirsting for revenge, she jumped out and marched towards the man who had caused the crash. Neither her look nor her walk promised anything good. Meanwhile the driver of the car behind was a sorry sight. Eyes bulging, he was darting back and forth, not knowing what to grab hold of or what to do.

“For God's sake, I'm so sorry, it's my fault! I've already called the police and the tow truck! Do you need a first-aid kit? Here's my card, all my contacts are on it… Of all things, I had to mix up the pedals…”

He babbled on and on, and all of Rita's fury evaporated somewhere, as if by magic. His name was Valentin — Valya for short. He was a slightly fussy, slightly tired-looking man in an inexpensive but well-fitting suit. Your standard office worker, who bothers nobody and owes everybody. People like that will not dash off to discover America and will not run to jump with a parachute, but they are exactly the people who will bake pies to feed the hungry or bring a warm blanket to those who are cold. People like that carry this whole ungrateful world on their backs and remain entirely unrecognised and unnoticed. Rita, at any rate, paid men like Valya no more attention than she paid ants. Thank you for your unbearable labour, of course; do carry on labouring — but please, without me.

Meanwhile Valya had managed to talk to the police officers, to explain to everyone that it was his fault and his alone, and even, somehow imperceptibly, to work out that in order to atone completely he simply had to invite Rita to a restaurant. No, she was not to think anything of it, he just felt terribly awkward, he could not forgive himself, and only that would make him feel better…

“I've had it up to here with you and your restaurant!” — burst out of Rita against her will, and she was ashamed at once. Valentin was disgusting to look at… no, frightening to look at, really — he looked pitiful: he shrank, pulled his head into his shoulders, made the eyes of a hungry Newfoundland and seemed about to burst into tears. How can a man be such a wet rag? Then again, now Rita was ashamed even of thoughts like that. Strictly speaking, he had done nothing to her… apart from wrecking her car both at the back and at the front. And before he really did start crying, Rita hurried to say yes to the restaurant.

With all the fuss she had almost forgotten about the restaurant — her mother reminded her. Rita did not dress up much: it was hardly a date. She was, admittedly, in what is called a passive search (that is when you are not actually looking, but if someone turns up you might take a look), but that does not mean you have to say yes to whatever comes along. An ordinary comfortable ethnic blouse, beige trousers, and, as an accent, unusual earrings with "Venus hair" — a rare stone that supposedly brings luck in love. In truth what Rita liked about it was precisely that it was so rare; and as for luck in love — what if on the way she really did meet a properly impressive man?

Valentin stared at Rita with genuine delight — what a Woman! And, catching himself at once, he pulled out her chair. The evening went pleasantly. Valentin had thoughtfully chosen both the time and the place. He had arranged a table with a view, but one where they were not on show to everyone, and pleasant music too. And he himself managed to be present without imposing. Except that now and then he gawped at Rita and smiled foolishly. They started talking, and soon Rita, to her own surprise, felt something almost like tenderness towards Valentin: such a warm, kind, unlucky man. A dream rather than a man: caring, attentive, never poking his nose where it is not wanted, a home like a full cup, able to listen and to see what you need… And nobody pays him any attention, or else they wipe their feet on him. It felt unbearably unfair to her that such injustice should exist in the world. And she felt so sorry for him that, carried away, she decided to do something that would make sure he remembered her.

Alas, the epic parting-for-ever that Rita expected did not happen in the morning. Of all the harmful men who use you, dump you and forget you, the ones who want only one particular thing from every woman, this one turned out to be somehow "insatiable": in the morning he looked at Rita with even greater delight and made it plain that they were now practically husband and wife, tried to cuddle, admired her, and then rushed off to make her breakfast in bed. Watching this wonder of nature happily brewing coffee, Rita quietly got dressed and made ready to slip out. Some sort of maniac, honestly! Brewing coffee! What will he come up with next!

“Rita?” — at the last moment he caught her in the doorway — “don't leave…”

And again that same sad, pleading expression, almost panic. Don't leave, I'll make you coffee, and breakfast, and a massage, and I'll play the accordion for you… Rita felt herself starting to boil. There are so many normal men in the world, and it was a weakling like this who had latched on to her! Without waiting for her indignation to become impossible to hide, she apologised, lied that she was late and slipped out of the door.

Valentin was walking on air. Such a beautiful, mysterious, gentle, clever girl, and decisive when she had to be — nothing like the "women with balls" or the aggressively painted Instagram divas — had responded to him. At first, when she had only just got out of the car, he thought she would kill him, and rightly so. He knew, after all, that you pay for everything, including for his delight at his promotion at work. He really had invited her to the restaurant with no ulterior motive, but the way it all turned out in the end… And what a look she had! So attentive, so trustingly wary, mysterious, and yet looking straight into your soul. No, a woman like that must not be let go, not under any circumstances! And the way she supported his ideas and plans, even advised him on things — nobody had ever taken him as seriously as she did! She believed in him, she thought he was important!

The only thing that gave him pause was how reluctantly she answered. It is always like that with beautiful, clever girls: you can break your leg — and your brain with it — trying to work out how they think! He wrote to her, he sent her funny photos, compliments, he invited her out for walks and to cafés, asked her things… And if he was lucky he got a lazy answer once every two days. But then, men are supposed to take the initiative! Valentin was not on very good terms with initiative, but when he had to he was capable of very decisive action. And so now he was determined to charm Rita whatever it took, to persuade her to stay. He rang her to have it out honestly. He had a whole set of neat, unbeatable arguments ready. But not one of them helped: Rita steered the conversation somewhere else straight away. To his attempts to get across that he did not want her to leave, she reacted with something close to irritation: can't you see I haven't got time!

“And what is wrong with him?” — her mother wailed — “decent, caring, kind…”

Rita kept a mysterious silence. You cannot explain such things to your mother. With her friends it was easier. He was somehow too good, too caring, too kind. You want to tell him where to go, and there is simply no reason to. And even if you do tell him, he will look at you with such pitiful, loving eyes that you feel like the worst kind of swine although you have done nothing. With him it is pleasant, and you feel like a princess, the one and only… but there is nothing to breathe, the oxygen has been cut off.

Valya kept up the pressure. All that week, and then another one, he patiently wrote to her, wished her good morning and good night, shared news that had caught his eye, sent her jokes and now and then — the wretch — reminded her that he was ready to wait humbly until she agreed to meet him. In the second week she gave in and agreed.

And again that feeling of being the one and only. And again that sense of warmth and safety, that Valya would take care of everything. And after a while, again that distrust, again the lack of air. Again the fear that a normal, healthy person would not take such constant pleasure in sacrificing himself and his own interests. And how could a weakling like that take care of her if he cannot even properly take care of himself? And how long would it all last, anyway? He would sacrifice himself for a while, then get tired of it, and then he would pick up an axe or a kitchen knife… And some kind of current would suddenly carry Rita away from Valentin, to a safe distance, from which he again looked like a harmless simpleton ready to do anything for her favour.

And Valentin genuinely could not understand how it was that the moment everything settled down, Rita suddenly moved away. And the better things got, the faster she broke off and disappeared, building distance between them. He tried harder and harder, he suffered and tormented himself, he invented reasons: either she loved somebody else, or he repelled her, or someone had hurt her so badly in the past that she was truly afraid of relationships, or perhaps it was simply him, Valya, being so unattractive and unsuitable. He tried to play the macho, he tried dressing differently, guessing every wish and whim of hers, wore himself out, suffered and tormented himself again. And the moment he let go, stopped running after her and talked himself into feeling nothing, Rita would turn up straight away — just as lovely and mysterious, alluring, beloved.

It was a vicious circle that neither Valya nor Rita could break out of. They could not do without each other, but they could not do with each other either. They ran together and ran apart, quarrelled and made up, tried by turns to push each other away and to hold each other, and neither of them knew what to do about it next.

And then Rita unexpectedly became pregnant, and there was nowhere left to run. It was a very difficult pregnancy: for two months on end she barely left the toilet, lost weight and came to look like a vampire from the films. Valya was in seventh heaven and could not fathom how it was that Rita did not share his feelings, why the world had lost its light for her. Meanwhile Rita began having panic attacks. Sometimes it seemed to her that the baby was about to kill her, sometimes that she was suffocating. The new "tie" was choking her more and more, guaranteeing that life would never be as it had been. Periods of complete apathy alternated with periods of activity, when she cried and laughed, urgently did things and tried to get everything done. Valentin watched her torment with horror, not knowing how he could help or what to do. It was hell, and he bore it bravely, humbly following the advice of every doctor they knew and of Rita's counsellor. The birth did not ease things much, because now Rita guarded her child from everyone and everything like a madwoman, tried to do everything at once and suffered because she had neither the strength nor the time. Rita's mother tried to take the baby so that Rita could get some sleep, but Rita only fell asleep when her strength had left her completely; until then she was afraid that she would sleep through something, miss something, let something slip.

Valya thought of giving up his job to help with the child, but Rita's mother told him not to even think about it: where else would the money for everything come from? He had better try to get a promotion! And Valya started working towards that, doing everything he could to earn favour and be noticed by his bosses. At home he honestly reported his modest successes to his wife and his mother-in-law, for he sincerely believed that nobody was going to promote him and never would — who needed him there. And at some point Rita, as if waking from a dream, began giving him advice. Each time the advice grew harder and more demanding, but Valya carried it out without question. If at first he still tried to stammer out something about what he himself would like, this gradually turned into a stern "you have to", a categorical "do as I say" and a hard demand that he report back to her. And, strange as it may seem, this peremptory remaking of Valentin turned out to be a sort of medicine for Rita. She came back to life, taking an interest in his work and his career, guiding him, telling him what to do and how to do it, whom to ring and how to talk to whom. It seemed that she solved all his problems and dead ends, that she had an answer for everything, and this gave Valentin strength. He was trying for the sake of the family, and soon he could hardly believe himself how far he had gone and how much he had changed. If anyone had told him before that crash that he would become like this, he would have decided they were making fun of him — and now, well, look at him… He had gained a position and a status, he had become important, he had come to believe in himself. No, this was not the job he had dreamed of as a child, but the main thing was that he was needed, that he had a family he could take care of. And, above all, that Rita had got better, that she was waking from a dream along with him, wisely guiding him and caring together with him for their small but close family — their own people, the ones who are with you whatever happens in the world. It seemed that only now had Rita finally accepted both her new life and Valentin, and after that she seemed to settle.