When Will You Return My Money?

Victoria now lives in the USA and pursues her medical education. Her beloved husband and son support her, inspiring her to study and write novels.

When Petrov recovered from his prolonged illness, he felt both surprise and joy upon seeing the sincere face of his old friend Alexei Ivanovich Tsaryov before him. He was surprised because he hardly expected such a distinguished and busy person to visit him—a man living poor and simple in an unprestigious neighborhood. On the other hand, he was filled with joy, for Vasily Grigoryevich had been eagerly awaiting Alexei Ivanovich for a month before misfortune divided his life into "before" and "after." By old habit, Vasily was glad to see Alexei. Overcoming pain, he rose and wanted to prepare coffee for his friend. Alexei Ivanovich grimaced: "Coffee? I cannot drink coffee, give me tea instead." Vasily smiled. Leaning on a crutch, he opened the next cupboard, took out a new box of Ceylon tea, homemade shortbread cookies, and set them on the table. When cups, plates, and spoons were already laid out, Alexei Ivanovich commented ironically: "So you never learned to live, Vasky." He gazed disdainfully at the kitchen furniture, the entryway—which were essentially the same—and added: "Everything is old, from a thrift store, cups some ancient relics. How can anyone live like this?" He looked at his friend with disdainful smile. Then loudly snapped his wrist with the Swiss watch, cleared his throat, and spoke quietly and coldly: "I must go. You can walk now. Glad you didn't die. Because who would pay the debts then? Besides, don't forget I spent so much money on your treatment! That's enough sickness! Go back to work tomorrow. That's all, Vasky! You are my friend, aren't you? Friend!" He loudly sipped tea from the cup and with the words: "Swill, not tea! How can anyone drink this?"—rose, glanced arrogantly once more at his Patek Philippe watch, which he had purchased for twenty thousand dollars, and exclaimed: "Okay! Time is money! I must go, I might miss my golf game!" He left, slamming the door. Vasily watched his friend depart with sorrow. A sense of guilt toward his friend, a feeling of hopelessness fell upon him like a heavy burden: he owed so much to his closest friend? How could this happen? And when would he be able to repay this cursed money so that their bright, sincere friendship could be restored? He cleared the tea, teapot, saucers, and cookies from the table, putting everything in its place. His wife had worked hard those days, and Petrov made every effort not to burden her or his children. A few hours remained until the evening doctor's visit, and Vasily took the Bible, read for a while, and fell asleep. He again sank into a dream he had seen several times during his stay in the United States: a meadow of a cozy village, and he and Lyoshka playing football with neighborhood boys. A spacious, green meadow, and boys without worries, outside of time… He dreamed of how they herded cows together… And he dreamed of much else…

In the evening, the doctor revealed that the insurance company had allocated money for all necessary medications, and now there was no need to pay for treatment. Through a translator, Vasily asked if he could return to work in construction to be able to repay his friend's debt. But the doctor persistently discouraged Vasily from construction work. Petrov became sad. He did not want to let his friend down. Becoming anxious, he carelessly rose, struck the table with his crutch, fell, hit his head, and lost consciousness. An ambulance was called and he was admitted to the hospital until the next day. Lyuba, Vasily's wife, went home because visitors were not allowed to stay overnight in the hospital. But the next morning, when Lyubov Hnatiyivna prepared to go to the hospital, Tsaryov's car was already standing by the house, and he, in his usual manner, did not allow her to visit her husband, instead ordered her to work on another construction site, and almost forcibly took from Lyuba the lunch and things she had prepared for her husband. He scolded Petrov fiercely, saying he let him down again, and altogether regretted ever getting involved with him. Lyuba had to listen to much else on the way to work. She finished her shift at the construction site, and in the evening went to visit her husband. It was fortunate that the children themselves prepared food for their father and brought it to the hospital. He recovered for three weeks. Once recovered, Petrov returned to construction—to work off the money.

"Don't forget you owe me," Tsaryov greeted his friend at the construction site. "So think about when you'll repay the money."

Barely dragging his operated leg, with a constant headache, Petrov worked from early morning until late night and saw neither his wife nor his children. At ten in the evening, a Mexican who lived in the same neighborhood as Vasily picked him up from work, and they drove home, communicating in broken English. Petrov entered the house late after midnight, turned on the light, and found a cold supper already waiting for him on the table. A note with the words "Thank you, my love" Vasily left on the table, and put the food in the refrigerator. In the morning he ate his supper from the night before. Then he would go into the children's room. The children slept. His wife, exhausted from hard work, slept in her clothes on the sofa in one of the children's rooms. Vasily Grigoryevich rebandaged his leg and fell asleep instantly. One night he felt ill again. His wife woke him: "Vasya, Vasya… What is this misery? How will we live? How will we pay for housing? What will we eat? You are so weak!" His temperature spiked again. He took pills. In the morning he could not get up to go to work. Tsaryov was very upset. That day he was planning to fly to Switzerland for another vacation, as he spent much time outside the city on vacation in the summer. The tickets were for the evening. He ordered his wife to pack for the trip, and himself went to see his friend again.

Petrov woke to a sharp knock on the door. He tried to rise, but his leg would not obey him. With great effort, on crutches, he approached the door and opened it.

"Hello! I remember, I owe you money," he said, weakly shaking his friend's firm hand, "haven't I ever let you down in thirty years of our friendship?"

"Think about when you'll repay your debt. Recover as quickly as possible…" With these words, he pulled out a calculator. Multiplying and recalculating something, he added: "Well, Vasky? I'm giving you a week to lie around, rest, and recover. This will cost you 840 dollars."

"How 840?! I earn 5 dollars an hour, 50 dollars a day, in seven days I will owe you not 840, but 350!" Vasily objected.

"You earn 350, and I lose 840! And don't be ungrateful! Didn't I provide you with housing and help you settle here? You live like a king, so pay up, please! Or maybe you want to find another job? Only don't forget you don't know the language and without me you're nobody here!"

"And who else among emigrants lives like you do?" Alexei Ivanovich said loudly, upset.

"Of course… Nobody here lives like I do…" Petrov sighed sadly. And looking at his friend—or rather, his former friend—he thought: "Lyosha, were we really friends? Did we share a piece of bread between us? Was that really true? What happened to you here?" Petrov stood and looked at his friend without joy. Tsaryov, as he had before, seemed to have heard Petrov's thoughts.

"Oh, come on, Vasky, don't start! Everyone wants to be rich! Not just me. Let's do without that sentimentality. And you will become rich, don't worry! You just recover. I brought groceries here. We don't eat this kind, it's all expired, but it's edible. That's all, take care, I'm leaving!"—Tsaryov looked at his gold watch, smiled at it, and left Petrov's house, but before getting into the car, he shouted once more: "Vasily Grigoryevich! When will you repay me my money?" Then he laughed loudly and cheerfully, sat behind the wheel, slammed his car door, honked loudly, and drove away. Petrov stood by the window until the black Lexus disappeared around the corner.