Max Pov
New Year's Eve passed into oblivion.
The best family holiday, one of the most significant for me and Sonya - disappeared. It became a shadow of the time that we always spent together, leaving problems, worries, work beyond these weekends.
Today my mother-in-law called me with a bunch of complaints and completely drunken arguments that the apartment in which we lived should go to the injured party, since "I'm such a beast who can't keep the household in her pants."
"I'll take care of Sonya."
"Yes, thank you, have you taken care of her already? Poor girl, she cried so much today..."
"Marina," I clarified ingratiatingly, "we both understand that you are not caring about your daughter now, right? In any case, the apartment will remain Sonya's. But I will do everything in my power to ensure that you do not get even a meter of it."
"Boor!"
And she hung up.
It is easy to understand why the wife was in no hurry to tell her mother about our divorce. She did not seek to support her in any endeavors, shifted all the care for her daughter to her parents, and tried to improve her personal life.
But she didn't succeed in that either, she just drowned her sadness and loneliness at the bottom of another glass of wine.
We were similar in that, but only for one day.
I didn't know what to do with myself today.
By December 31, all the business was finished, but I still stayed in the office. Just me and the security guard for all sixteen floors. I don't think it's possible to sink any lower.
Lyuba sent a message: "Happy New Year."
Just words. Without any additional attributes, like brackets or emoticons. At first I thought she needed help. But if she needed it, would she have told me? Damn. We haven't discussed this yet. We haven't discussed anything at all, although sooner or later we will have to.
But not today. Not on this day. Having sent her the same simple message in response, I thought about where to go.
Two hours before midnight, my brother called me.
"Hi, divorcee!"
Egor was the oldest of us, but only in years.
At thirty-five, he was still single not only by passport, but also by state of mind. His only love was programming and everything related to computers.
Women saw him as a rough and unconquered boor, they fed him with hope, broke his pride and crawled away to lick the wounds of unrequited feelings and plans for the future. He was tall, broad-shouldered, sullen and sometimes frightening with his thick beard and short ponytail at the back of his head.
"Go away, lumberjack! Are you alone today?"
"Do you want to bring me a bowl of Olivier salad? How sweet, sweet!"
In any other situation, I would have responded in the spirit of vulgar American comedies, because that's how my brother and I communicated, but now I just kept silent. And that was much more eloquent than any words.
"Max, come to me."
"I can't, I have work to do."
"Don't rush me. There's no job you can't quit at night. Unless you've gone into elite escorting." I was silent. "You want to punish yourself, right?"
My brother has always been smarter than me. And he definitely wouldn't have made my mistakes.
"Max, let's start spanking you on the cheeks on the first of January? And we'll celebrate the New Year's Eve together. I don't want to be alone tonight either."
"Damn it."
"I had to persuade Liza from 10th "B" to go on a date less often," laughed Egor. "Come on, Max. You'll arrive just in time for his speech.
I gave in and reluctantly closed my laptop and left the office. I said goodbye to the guard, wished him happiness in the new year and headed to the parking lot. It took about an hour and a half to buy groceries and get to my brother.
He welcomed me warmly, gave me a couple of slaps on the back of the head, but there were already a couple of highballs and ice on the table. The snacks were organized in the process of drinking the first portion.
Unlike his mother-in-law, Egor was aware of everything that had happened between Sonya and me. He knew the reason for the divorce and that this reason had consequences of "force majeure".
He didn't judge, at least out loud, but for some reason I was sure that if Sonya had asked him to beat my penis off, Egor would have done it without a second thought.
He was like the older brother she didn't have. More than a friend and more reliable than a rock. I knew they kept in touch, and I was glad about that.
"Did you call her?" Egor asked.
"We see each other at work every day."
"So you called her? Today? It's New Year's."
I rolled my eyes and knocked back a shot of spirits. Noble drinks aren't drunk so senselessly, but to be honest, there was no time for ceremony.
"No."
"So how do you plan to get back together with her?"
"F*ck, Egor! Go to hell with your questions!"
My brother shrugged, got up from the table and left, taking the unfinished bottle and snacks. I didn't drink often, so my head was buzzing from four drinks. I took my smartphone out of my pocket, opened the call list, but Sonya wasn't among the last ones.
Then I went into the messenger and discovered there that the last time she wrote to me something was more than a week ago. About work. Brief. Dry. Official.
I slammed the table in indignation and jumped to my feet with the intention of rushing out, driving to my house (yes, yes, it was still my fucking house too!) and, if necessary, breaking down the door to see her.
And when I saw her, I hugged her. And loved her. I loved her. I loved her the way she wanted me to. I loved her so she would understand and forgive me.