W1 turns to W2
W1: i plan to get home in an hour. what’s your plan?
W2: (doesn’t turn to W1, almost yelling) and why do you think everyone should change their plans for you, would you tell me? i’m cleaning up Svetlana Igorevna’s ward, putting the stuff in order, you’ve been free all day, so why are you calling me making demands? she’ll be home in an hour and you should run? am i supposed to run?
you can wait.
W1: and all of that in a such, you know, calm voice.
W1 remains facing W2.
W1: i never really left home like that, even in the most atomic teenage years i’d always spend the nights at home, even drunk and after scandals, but this time i thought – okay, that’s it, i just clearly realized it: that’s it. and sort of left home for the first time at twenty – well, just actually didn’t come home for the night. went to my friend’s place. and turned off the phone, of course. and so i wake up in the morning, take a shower, cook some eggs, and while eating i realize i have no idea what to do next – like, i can’t just call her and beg her for the keys, really. so i went to the hospital. i enter the ward and Svetlana Igorevna is really happy to see me, i can’t remember the last time she was so glad. and i tell her straight away, “can i take your keys?” and she says, yet so happily, that, yes, of course, the keys are in the drawer, just take them yourself, i can’t reach. so i open the drawer, grab the keys and leave. i walk along those ugly green halls, fidgeting with the keys and feeling somehow uneasy, even anxious, sort of. as if it just can’t be like that, there has to be a catch. i turn on the phone, not a single missed call.
i reach home – she’s not there. 11 pm – she’s not there. midnight – she’s not there. i don’t call.
1 am – she’s back.
very long pause, nothing is happening.
W1: (makes a gesture sweeping the space) and the same thing for several days.
the long pause keeps hanging.
W2: you owe Svetlana Igorevna an apology.
the long pause continues.
W1 stands up, lifts her foot as if to take a step, there comes the sound of a slamming door. W1 puts her foot down, sits down on the chair.