"Did you talk to Saltikov recently?" asked Olive talking to Michael.
"Yes, I did."
"So what did he say? Anything about me?"
"Nothing in particular," was the answer, "Just said good for you, that's all."
"What do you mean 'good for me'?" said Olive with bewilderment.
"Well, I told him you'd got a promotion, and he said "well, good for her".
"And nothing else?"
"Nothing else."
"And not one more little word about me?"
"Not about you. Now he's into another thing..."
"What another thing, Michael?"
"He says he's going to Germany," Michael caught himself putting his foot in it, and added hurriedly:
"Actually, he doesn't say much, so I don't really know."
After talking to Michael Olive's spirits sagged. Saltikov's indifference was just killing her. She had expected the news about her promotion to touch him somehow, make him change his attitude towards her but in vain: Saltikov had lost interest in her completely, so he just couldn't care less.
"Really, what's the use of that promotion?" poor Olive thought on the way to the metro station, "What good does it to me if he doesn't give a shit? If it could influence him at least somehow, I would move heaven and earth! But it wouldn't be appreciated... Even if I rose to such heights that the whole world knew about me - he wouldn't give a shit, and for myself I want nothing..."
On getting home she immediately plunged into bed not even bothering to take off her clothes. She felt extremely bad. She remembered about the cash left in her wallet but she had neither strength nor will to get up and fetch it.
"Fifteen thousand in my pocket and seventy in the envelope..." Olive counted listlessly in her mind, "Not to count the paycheck of eighteen thousand and three hundred twenty nine - fifteen into the envelope, the rest for expenses, I don't need much... Seventy and fifteen is... is... how much is it? Eighty five... Plus a bonus makes ninety... God, that's a lot! How did I manage to save so much? What do I do with all that money, I want nothing..."
"One day some of my friends said - seems like it was Yana - that money is a key to any door. Money makes wishes come true. What could I wish for ninety thousand? I could buy a plasma TV. But what do I do with it? I need it like a fish needs a bicycle." "Or, for instance, I could go on a trip to Europe. But what's the point of it? What the hell would I be doing in that Europe? No," she sighed,"Money can't buy happiness, that's the thing. How could I be happy traveling Europe all alone and aware of being dumped? How would I feel happy buying lots of fancy shit I don't really want? My only desire is that Saltikov wouldn't be able to live without me like I can't live without him; that he would be genuinely repentant and that his love for me would be true, not like that falseness he had been showing all that time. But a true love can't be bought for money..."
Her сell phone gave a beep. Olive grasped it. The new message was from Saltikov! She immediately got revived by excitement - no matter what, he remembered her, and texted something. With her hands shaking she opened the message, but in a second she cursed and flung her phone on the bed.
The message was empty.
"Of course," said Olive with a bitter smile, "Silly me was hoping he had texted something to me. Don't hold your breath, that's not gonna happen. This empty text is just an occasion, no more. It often happens when you accidentally press the wrong button on your phone..."
Of course, it was unclear if the wrong button was pressed accidentally or on purpose, but even if it was an accident afterwards it cost Saltikov a lot.
"Are you screwing with me right now?" Olive texted him back, "Okay, I know, you don't give a flying fuck about me, but why be screwing with me so?! What have I done to you, I wonder? I have always loved you and never done anything wrong to you and you've just ruined my whole life! What for?!"
There was no answer.
Olive lay still on her bed and watched the blue twilight of the summer night thicken outside the window.
He never texted back.
Then there was a phone call from Yana. She was suggesting that they went to see Michael in Saint Petersburg this weekend. Olive agreed automatically. It was all the same to her, Saint Petersburg or something. She would go anywhere just to be out of this bloody home of hers that had never let her go.
Quite crestfallen, Olive fell asleep straight after finishing her phone conversation. She still had a vague hope to get the answer at least by the morning. But no such luck; morning came and Saltikov never texted.
The morning gave way to day, then evening, then night. All day Olive tried to stay strong, stifling her sobs every now and then. She couldn't work; everything seemed to be falling apart.
"Why didn't you answer me?! Why? Answer me, I beg you!!!" she texted him again when night fell. "I have never ever loved anyone as much as you, you've just screwed me over!!! I've put all my trust in you, why are you doing this to me? Tell me, why?!"
It was a scream for help, a voice crying in the wilderness. But it fell largely on deaf ears.
Ten minutes later Saltikov called Michael.
"Hey, Michael, you contact the Moskees now, don't you?"
"Yes, occasionally... Why?"
"Tell them to look after Olive over there, I'm afraid she might do something to herself. Seems like she's having a relapse..."
"What do you mean "having a relapse"? Michael didn't understand.
"You know what," said Saltikov, "She's shooting me with crazy texts again. I was nearly relieved but no such luck..."
"That's too bad," murmured Michael, "Of course, I will talk to the girls, but I'm not sure if it works. You had better talk to her yourself."
"No, Michael," Saltikov refused, "There's nothing for us to talk about. Why be harping on the same string over and over again? You know, the decision is made, things are over between us. Now, what can I do?"
"Alright, I'll try my best and calm her down... Will do what I can. Moreover, she and Yana were about to come and see me in Saint Petersburg this weekend..."
"Sure, it's a good idea," said Saltikov, "Maybe some change of scenery will bring her back to normal."
Увидев Оливу онлайн, Майкл не преминул ей написать.
On catching Olive online Michael didn't fail to text her.
"Hello! How are you? Is everything alright?"
"No, it's not alright!" she replied.
"I'm sorry, Andrew was just worrying about you."
"Worrying about me?!" she lashed out, "He won't answer my messages, he won't five a flying fuck! What the hell is it he is worrying about? He doesn't love me, does he?"
"He doesn't love you, but it cannot be said that he doesn't care about you at all... He wishes you well..."
"What? He wishes me well, huh?" Olive went ballistic. "He has ruined my whole life, left me twisting in the wind, and now he's playing a saint wishing me well! Tell him to stuff his best wishes up his ass!"
Shortly after that the puzzle of Saltikov's complete indifference was solved by itself. It only took Olive to pop on the Agtustud forum she had abandoned long ago and she got the complete low-down.
Saltikov buoyantly posted on the forum as if nothing was happening. He wrote about the good time he had had in the Mediterranean the previous week, and mentioned by the way a cool German girl he had hooked up with over there.
"So that's it!" flitted through Olive's mind. Her heart was breaking into pieces; she yelped like a dog and threw herself onto bed.
"Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!!!" she howled with raving frenzy, choking with tears.
"I'll kill him!" flashed through her mind.
To kill him! This sudden idea tickled her imagination. Really, why should it be only her suffering and agonizing, cutting her veins and leaving this life, but not him? Hadn't it been him coming into her life like a hurricane, and turned her whole existence into a train wreck of a disaster?
"I'll get you for this, someday," thought Olive as she calmed down a little bit, "But before--"
She knew that Saltikov read her blog sometimes so she came on it and started to write a new post. She hadn't been posting on there for a long time, but now she felt compelled to spew all her bile across Saltikov.
"They say there's no weapon more formidable than indifference... The sheer indifference.." she wrote, "But I've got a weapon that is more terrifying than your indifference."
Olive remembered about her novel she had finished a few days before and put it on Proza.ru. It crossed her mind that giving it a go wouldn't be a bad idea, but she didn't think much of it. It wouldn't be the worst thing for Saltikov, she reflected. People like him deserve a tougher crack-down.
"Your own wretched skin is all you worry about... My death won't affect you a bit... But you will die first... That is going to be a slow and excruciating death for you...
Despicable rotten worm... I'll get you pay for this..."
Olive smiled crookedly and went on:
"When the time comes you will pay for all the evil you've done to me. You will have to answer for my broken life. I have nothing to lose anyway. So...
He laughs best who laughs last."
She only had to publish the post and wait for Saltikov's reaction.
"Threatening is the best policy" flitted through Olive's mind, "The threat of revenge can be way scarier than the revenge itself".
Yet one day had passed, than another. There was no reaction. And then Oliva fully realized the hopelessness of all her strivings. She was so weak and powerless that she was unable to even touch Saltikov let alone defeating him. Her insults rolled off him like water off a duck's back. She remembered the old saying: "The servant was angry with the master but the master didn't know". And this bitter frustration made her sob and cry out load like a baby.
Olive was lying face down, prone on her bed, crying in the pillow. After a while she wiped off her tears, took her mobile phone to check the time and saw that the phone was dead. She plugged in the charger, entered the pin. The radio set murmuring nearby gave an immediate fart. Olive knew for sure it was a sign of a message coming. Another moment and it came. And not just one, but three whole messages.
"It's a strange idea to play the outraged wife and put the whole blame on me! You don't even seem to realize that it was you who ruined everything. It was all about your shitty behavior and your pathological desire to be insulted and humiliated."
"Oh yeah, right!" grumbled Olive while another message popped up.
"One more thing, what indifference you are talking about? When was I indifferent to you? It was you who always made it clear that you didn't care about me!"
And the last one:
"I am sorry for you. I had hoped for a normal, healthy relationship with you, but you didn't seem to want it. It's your choice and your right. But, hate me or not, I am sorry for you, however mad at me you are, even if you keep on throwing shit at me on your blog."