TE17 Mysterious Montenegro

Alta Ifland

its mystery was being expelled by reality’s lack of appetite for shapelessness. The two were now arguing, buried under an avalanche of words, and Sammy left them there and hid in his room. The truth is Serioja toohad been takenaback by something in his wife he hadn’t seen before, a cruel determination verging on cynicism. Did he think she’d sold her apartment and spent a fortune on their plane tickets only to go back? To go back to what? When Serioja reminded her that they still had his studio, she laughed mockingly. Neither of them had a job anymore, and if he thought that she’d go back to live on his mother’s meager pension, he was out of his mind. But what was she going to live on here, did she think she had any chance of surviving among foreigners? That was none of his business, he should just go back to mom and enjoy her noodle soup. What did she mean it was none of his business, she was his wife! Not any more, if she stays here and he leaves. Oh, so this had been her plan all along! Yes, it was, and now just get out of my life! Luckily, Serioja’s return ticket was already paid for—they had had to buy return tickets in order to get the visas. He just had to call the airline and make a reservation. He left on a Saturdaymorning in the same white suit he’d worn at his arrival, accompanied by Anna’s spiteful gaze, Anna, who was spying on him from behind the blinds in her room. Maria, whomhe’d tried again to persuade to come with him, was notably absent, and only when he opened the door of his empty studio in Chisinau did he fully understand that he’d lost her, and he burst into uncontrollable sobbing. HisreturntoChisinau,whichwaswelcomedwithsuchoutpouring of joy by Olga—crosses, tears, hugs, more crosses, spit to chase away the evil eye, more tears, and thanks to the Almighty—that 182