The Tainted. A Short Story.
Everyone in the village knew Yulka was “damaged.” Back in ninth grade, a meat dealer dragged her into a warehouse.
Her parents were given a car to keep quiet, and the matter was quietly settled. Yulka stopped going to school, later passing her exams as an external student.
Trying to erase that day from her memory, she married the first man she met — Anatoly, a gloomy neighbor and ex-convict. He drank and wanted a child. In the mornings, he went fishing while Yulka fried crucian carp.
Then Anatoly drowned, and Yulka breathed a sigh of relief: she was alone now, with her own house. But her parents lived nearby and soon started bossing her around again.
Her father suggested she move out and give the house to her brother and his pregnant wife. Yulka refused. Her mother shouted across the fence, calling her selfish.
One day, carrying heavy shopping bags, Yulka bumped into Mitka, a classmate, who helped her with the packages. From then on, he started waiting for her, helping, just being there.
It turned out he had been in love with her since sixth grade. At first, Yulka found him annoying, but she got used to it. He didn’t push or nag, just looked at her warmly.
Her father disapproved of Mitka and declared he’d found a “suitable match” for Yulka. She protested, but one day after work, her mother met her at the gate: “We have company!”
The guest was Matvey Chelbanov — a widower with a shady past. His wife had disappeared, later found dead in the forest. Matvey made crude jokes and tried to kiss Yulka. She barely escaped.
“Wait — you won’t kiss me, but you kissed him?” Mitka blocked her way. “How do you know?” “I came by yesterday — you were with that guy…” Yulka laughed: “Well, since you came, why not have some tea?”
Over tea, she told him everything: about the warehouse, how her father traded her silence for a car, her marriage to the neighbor, and now how they wanted to kick her out.
Mitka listened quietly, then said: “Marry me. You’ll take care of your own, not someone else’s.” “I won’t have children,” Yulka said softly.
“I was pregnant once… my mother took me to the doctor. Then they told Anatoly — I couldn’t.” Mitka turned pale, stood up, and left. Yulka cried all evening.
She woke to shouting and the smell of burning — her parents’ car was on fire. People hurried around, and Mitka was among them. He looked at Yulka, and everything became clear.
The car was gone. Along with it, the pain of the past disappeared. Yulka cried — from relief. When things calmed down, Mitka sat beside her: “We’ll adopt,” he said, pulling her close.
“But let’s move to your place. Let them take this house.” “Of course,” he answered. “My father and I built it for that.” Yulka leaned into him. She was no longer “damaged.” Just a woman. Ordinary.
