I quickly threw on my jacket and left the school. In half an hour, I was supposed to meet Ivanka at her favorite café and bakery. My girl had a serious sweet tooth—she couldn’t get enough of candies, chocolate, and pastries. And flowers, too.
So, on the way, I stopped by a flower shop and picked out a bouquet of soft pink roses. The cashier quoted a price that nearly knocked me over. Why are flowers always so expensive? They don’t even last long—a few days, and all you’re left with is a memory... Though, to be fair, Ivanka sometimes dried the flowers I gave her, pressing them between the pages of her books. Later, she’d show me the faded petals and remind me exactly when I’d given them to her. She remembered every little detail. But I wasn’t too thrilled when she recounted her friends’ personal lives with the same level of detail: what they got as gifts, how much those gifts cost, and so on.
That’s why, when picking out a surprise for her, I never went for something cheap or insignificant. I knew there was a good chance that tomorrow, Ivanka and her friends would be dissecting my generosity and deciding whether I was a suitable match or if she should set her sights on more promising guys...
So, I always chose bouquets and gifts with extra care. I’d skimp on food for a week if it meant I could give her the exact piece of jewelry or perfume she wanted.
I walked down the street, my eyes absentmindedly scanning the shop windows already decked out with twinkling Christmas lights and colorful garlands. In these pre-New Year’s days, everyone seemed busy, wearing mysterious smiles on their faces—like they were expecting some kind of miracle to happen any second. For me, the anticipation of the holiday was always more exciting and enjoyable than the holiday itself. Because once the day finally arrived, sneaky thoughts would creep into my head: in a couple of days, it’s back to work, and then it’s the same old grind, where one day blends into the next like two drops of water...
***
But the days I spent with Ivanka were the exception to the rule: not gray and boring, but full of color and emotion. I was so attached to her that I could barely handle being apart for even two days when I had to go back to my village to pick up another bag of groceries from home.
Ivanka, on the other hand, was a local, though she came from a struggling, big family. Her mom, dad, and three kids all squeezed into a tiny two-room apartment in one of those old Soviet-style buildings, practically living on top of each other. She was always embarrassed about her family’s modest means and worked hard to earn some cash for trendy clothes and makeup.
Right now, Ivanka was picking up shifts as a courier for some company, and she was supposed to come to our date straight from work. She hadn’t gone to college after high school, claiming that all those diplomas were “worthless” and that the real goal was to land a good job. She figured she could always study part-time later if she needed to.
Lately, I’d started to agree with her. My own studies were going so-so, and the burning desire to become an artist, which had been with me since childhood, hadn’t exactly disappeared, but it had faded a bit under the influence of professors who openly favored students with wealthy parents or connections.
Me? I’m just a simple guy from the countryside. My parents aren’t business owners or big shots—my mom’s a cashier, and my dad’s a driver. When I told my family I wanted to be an artist, they met the news with worried silence. There was something in their looks, like they were questioning the mental stability of their only child. I mean, if I’d gone to study law or teaching, that’d be a respectable profession, something they could brag about to their friends. Their son would be someone important, someone people addressed with respect. But an artist? What does an artist do? Stand on the street trying to sell paintings that no one wants to buy?
I argued, pleaded, showed them articles about famous auctions where paintings sold for millions of dollars. And eventually, with a lot of reluctance, they accepted that their son wasn’t like everyone else.
“Oh, here comes our millionaire,” my mom would quip during family conversations, and everyone would burst out laughing like it was the funniest joke ever.
At first, I truly believed I could become a famous artist. But then I realized life isn’t that simple. So, I started earning a living the easier way—doing web design.
That meant I could afford to take my girl to the movies or the skating rink now and then, treat her to her favorite pastries, and buy her flowers...
***
When I walked into the café, Ivanka was already sitting at a table. Weird—she was always late, but somehow, she’d gotten here early. Was my watch slow?
I glanced at my phone, then at the big clock on the wall. Nope, everything was on time.
I walked over to her, handed her the bouquet, and kissed her on the cheek. She seemed off, kind of sluggish, like she was sleepy or exhausted.
“Hey! Rough day?”
Ivanka nodded and looked away. She sniffed the flowers.
“Thanks, they’re beautiful, but you didn’t have to...”
“What do you mean, ‘didn’t have to’?” I smiled. “Guys are supposed to give girls flowers to brighten up their lives.”
“So, did you pass your evaluation? You’re glowing like a brand-new penny!”
“Yeah, I passed...” I decided not to get into the details. “And I’m glowing because I’m happy to see you. Now that I’m free, we can start planning our New Year’s celebration. How about at my dorm? The guys have already left for the holidays, so it’s just me. We can set up a nice table, then go for a walk to see the city Christmas tree...”
“In your dorm? Hmm...” I noticed her skeptical smile.
“Well, we could hit up a nightclub instead,” I hurried to fix the situation. I should have enough money— I’d had a decent gig recently. Worst case, I’d use my credit card...
As these thoughts raced through my head, I realized Ivanka was sitting there, looking at me in a strange way.
“Sorry, Denys,” she suddenly said, “but I don’t want to go anywhere with you. I actually came here to tell you that I’m in love with someone else. I don’t want you making plans for us, so you can be free. For New Year’s... and always...”