Everyone knew that Yulka was ‘cursed.’ Back when she was in ninth grade, a traveling meat dealer dragged her into an abandoned warehouse. The whole village whispered about it, especially after the dealer bought Yulka’s parents a brand new car and they withdrew their police report. The case was hushed up. Yulka’s dad drove proudly around the village in the shiny new car, her mom avoided people’s eyes when they asked about Yulka, and Yulka herself stopped going to school. Later, she was allowed to take her ninth grade exams and received her certificate.
Yulka decided to erase that day from her memory. It happened, it’s over. The other day too. More than anything, she wanted to leave her parents’ house, so she married the first person who asked—her neighbor Anatoliy, fifteen years older and just out of prison. Yulka wasn’t afraid of him, but she didn’t love him either: he was gloomy, drank a lot, and kept asking her to give him an heir. Every morning, Anatoliy would get up early and go fishing, bringing back skinny crucian carp for lunch. Yulka would fry them in hot oil, after coating them in flour, so the bones turned soft and you could eat the whole fish if it was small.
Then Anatoliy drowned. His body washed up in the reeds. Yulka felt relieved, though she was sorry for him. But being on her own turned out to be easier: now she had her own house, her own life. But her parents still lived next door and always tried to boss her around. Her father even suggested:
“Come back home, we’ll let Egor and his wife move in over there.”
Her brother got married two years ago—he brought his wife from a nearby village. She was about to give birth, and everyone thought it was Yulka’s responsibility to give up her house for the young couple. But Yulka didn’t want to go back to a house she hated and to people she couldn’t forgive.
“Selfish!” her mother shouted over the fence.
They ran into each other by chance: Yulka was coming back from the store, her hands full of bags with flour and sugar. Like many in the village, Yulka worked in the cowshed, and on payday she always stocked up. She usually made several trips to the store—she couldn’t carry much at once.
“Let me give you a ride,” her father offered.
But Yulka never got in that cursed car. And she wasn’t about to start now. When she heard a car coming up behind her, she thought it was her father. But it turned out to be Mitka, a former classmate she hadn’t seen in about three years.
“Hop in, I’ll take you,” he said.
Yulka shook her head. So Mitka turned off the engine, abandoned the car, took one of her bags, and silently walked beside her.
Mitka hadn’t changed much: still skinny with big ears, just like before.
“Will you make me some tea?” he asked.
Yulka looked up at him.
“What do you want from me?”
“I like you,” Mitka said, not beating around the bush.
“But we’ve never even talked!”
“No, we haven’t. You never noticed me. But I’ve been in love with you since sixth grade.”
“Yeah, that was ages ago.”
“So what?”
“Nothing.”
She didn’t offer Mitya any tea. But he wouldn’t give up: he waited for her after work or outside the store, offered to help carry her bags, or simply followed along chatting. He had just returned from the North, where he’d earned enough to buy a car and had built a house with his father. At first, Yulka was annoyed by his persistence, but eventually she got used to it. She worried that Mitya might get handsy—lots of guys did, especially before she got married. They thought if she was ‘spoiled’ she was fair game. But Mitya wasn’t like that. Yulka saw the way he looked at her—it wasn’t a brotherly gaze, but he never crossed the line.
“So, do you really like that oddball or what?” her father asked her one day.
“Of course not,” Yulka bristled.
“Good. Because I found you a fiancé.”
“I don’t need any fiancé!” Yulka protested.
“No one’s asking you!”
She thought it was all just talk. But then one day she came home from work and found her mother waiting at the gate.
“Come on, we have guests!”
“What guests?”
“You’ll see for yourself!”
The guest turned out to be Matvey Chelbanov from the neighboring village. He was ten years older, a widower with two kids. His wife had disappeared under very strange circumstances. Later, they found her in the woods. Yulia didn’t like the way Matvey looked at her, or his crude jokes.
“I have to go home now,” she tried to leave as soon as she could.
“I’ll walk you!” Matvey volunteered.
As expected, he tried to kiss her. Yulka barely managed to pull away.
“So that’s how it is!” Mitya said the next day, blocking her way. “You act like I’m not good enough, but with him, you’re all up for kissing right away?”
“How do you even know that?” Yulka snapped.
“I came by your place yesterday, wanted to finally ask for tea. But you were with him.”
Yulia saw his Adam’s apple bob and his fists clench. Suddenly, she found it funny.
“Alright then, come in for tea, since you came.”
Over tea, Yulka told him everything: how scared she had been at that warehouse, how her father talked her into retracting her statement in exchange for a scrap of metal, how she ran off to the neighbor’s just to get away from home.
“And now they want to ship me off as a nanny to someone else’s kids, just to take my house away from me.”
Mitya listened carefully and didn’t interrupt. After she finished, he said:
“Marry me. Then they’ll leave you alone. You’ll be caring for your own kids, not someone else’s.”
Yulka turned away and said quietly:
“I can’t have kids. Back then… well, I got pregnant. My mother took me to the doctor. When Anatoly wanted children, I went to the clinic. They told me—it’s your own fault, for getting rid of it back then…”
Mitya’s face went pale. Yulka remembered he had talked about wanting children before. And what man doesn’t want an heir?
“So go ahead—I’m not the right wife for you.”
Mitya stood up silently and left. Yulka cried the whole evening.
She woke up to screams. At first she didn’t even understand what was happening. There was a smell of burning. She panicked—fire! She rushed outside in just her nightgown.
A car was on fire by her parents’ house. The sky was still dark, and bright flames were shooting up toward the stars. People were running around, shouting, hauling water. But it was clear—there was no saving the car. Hopefully the fire wouldn’t reach the house.
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Mitka was running around with everyone else. He glanced at Yulka only once, but that was enough—she understood everything immediately. How much she used to hate that car! And now, it was finally gone. Tears streamed down her face, but they were tears of happiness and freedom. Yulka sat down on the porch, and when the fire was out, Mitka came over and sat beside her.
“Let’s adopt,” he said firmly, wrapping his arm around her waist.
The sky in the east began turning pink. Yulka leaned her head on his shoulder and said:
“Let’s move to your place, okay? They can take this house, I just want them to leave me alone for good.”
“Of course we’ll move. Who do you think Dad and I have been building the house for?”
He hugged her, and Yulka realized that she was no longer ‘damaged.’ She was just like everyone else—normal at last.