– This is Moscow, baby! – she muttered and turned into her private drive.
When she parked, she picked up her phone and looked at the display there was a text from Oleg.
"Honey, I'm not going to Moscow in the following two weeks. Having a great sunbathe here. Don't be bored. If you need money, contact Igor, he is going to transfer some money in any case."
The good mood was immediately spoiled. Slamming the door of the Lexus with such a force that the pigeons were scared and flew away from the chestnut tree nearby, Vera came in the entrance and pushed the button of the elevator. The button didn't light up.
Tamara, her elderly neighbor, was wearily descending the stairs.
– Verochka, good afternoon. The elevator doesn't work. This is the third time I've been down going shopping. Sclerosis.
– Good afternoon, Tamara, I see, let me help you. What do you need to buy in the store?
⁃ Oh, don't worry about it. I'll go to Lyuba on the first floor. She's waiting for me. God grant you a good bridegroom. Thank you, dear.
Tamara always used to wish Vera a good bridegroom, the girl laughed cheerfully, thanked the old lady, and hurried away on her business.
But today's mentioning about a bridegroom was particularly painful to hear.
Without any answering, she quickly ran up the stairs wearing high heels. On the second floor her eyes went wet and having reached the fifth floor she opened the door and entered the apartment, the tears were pouring down her make-up face. Apparently, that was the last straw. First there were bad words and rudeness of drivers at the traffic light, then Oleg, the elevator and finally the groom wishing neighbor. Vera took off her high-heeled boots and went straight to the kitchen for an open bottle of wine from the refrigerator without putting off her exclusively sewn coat. Having taken a big gulp of curing white wine, Vera leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes.
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.