66
TALES FROMTHE FUTURE
He let smoking Lusya out of the car – he’d decided he wouldn’t let his
son be poisoned by smoke.
Victor didn’t meet with his lover at all during these two weeks, and he
didn’t call her. He’d decided that if she didn’t want to have his baby, if all
she wanted to do was enjoy herself and hang out at fashionable resorts, then
he didn’t need her.
Of course, it was exceedingly pleasant spending time with her – she was
beautiful and smart – but now he’d made some serious changes in his life’s
plans. “I’ll give her the apartment: after all, this woman has adorned my life
for a while,” Victor decided, and he headed for the university where Inga
studied, planning to give her his set of keys. On his way, he called her on her
cell phone:
“Hi, Inga.”
“Hi,” a familiar voice answered. “Where are you now?”
“I’m just about to your university. Will you be done soon?”
“I haven’t been to school for ten days, and it looks like I won’t be going
back there in the foreseeable future.”
“Did something happen?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you now?”
“At home.”
When Victor opened the door with his key and walked into the apart-
ment, Inga was lying on the bed in her robe reading some kind of book. She
glanced at Victor:
“There’s coffee and sandwiches in the kitchen,” she said without getting
up, and then went back to her reading.
Victor made his way to the kitchen, took a couple sips of coffee, had a ci-
garette, and put his keys on the table, then went to the bedroom door and
announced to Inga, who was still reading:
“I’m leaving, maybe for a long time, or even forever. I’m leaving you the
apartment. Goodbye. Be free, be happy.”
And he headed for the exit. Inga caught up with him right by the door.
“Now hold on, you jerk,” she said, although not maliciously, tugging at
