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<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Maybe you\u2019ll make an exception for old acquaintances?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cNext stop, \u2018Central Square\u2019. Please pay your fare,\u201d Irina announced as she squeezed between passengers in the crowded bus.<\/p>\n
The July heat had turned the interior into a real oven. Sweat trickled down her back, and her uniform shirt uncomfortably clung to her skin. But twelve years of working as a conductor had taught her to ignore such discomfort.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cSir, have you paid your fare?\u201d Irina asked, extending the payment terminal to the elderly passenger.<\/p>\n
He nodded, showing his social benefits card. She continued moving down the aisle, quickly scanning the bus. Some were dozing, others were intently scrolling on their phones, while some simply stared blankly out the window.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cSveta, did you hear? Now milk costs one hundred and twenty! If this keeps up, we\u2019ll have to switch to bread with water.\u201d That voice. Irina froze, not believing her ears.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cOh come on, Alyona. It\u2019s happened before. We\u2019ll manage somehow.\u201d<\/p>\n
Just three steps away, two women sat. One was a striking blonde with a short haircut, the other had dark hair pulled back in a careless bun. Both were around her age \u2013 in their fifties. There was something familiar about their modest but neat attire.<\/p>\n
Alyona Vorontsova and Svetlana Petrova. Her former classmates.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cThey cut my salary yesterday, can you believe it?\u201d sighed Alyona. \u201cThey said there aren\u2019t enough customers, the bus isn\u2019t profitable. And I have a loan to pay.\u201d \u2014 \u201cI\u2019m having problems too,\u201d Svetlana added. \u201cMy daughter needs money for a tutor. But where are we supposed to get it?\u201d<\/p>\n
Irina paused. School days flashed before her eyes: Alyona laughing mockingly in a fashionable blouse at her old, worn-out clothes. \u201cIrinka, do you dress in secondhand? Or did your older sister hand down her rags?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cDo you remember our Irinka Sokolova?\u201d Alyona suddenly said, and Irina tensed. \u201cThe little gray mouse from 10 \u2018B\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cOh, that one\u2026 From a troubled family?\u201d Svetlana whispered. \u2014 \u201cExactly. We\u2019ll soon be just like her. Barely making ends meet.\u201d Irina gripped her bag of tickets. Thirty-five years had passed. A whole lifetime. And yet, they were still the same.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cPlease pay your fare,\u201d she repeated, stepping forward.<\/p>\n
Alyona looked up, preparing to take out her wallet, then suddenly froze. Her eyes swept over Irina\u2019s face and lingered on her badge.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cIra?\u201d she asked in surprise. \u201cIrina Sokolova?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cHello. Please pay your fare,\u201d Irina said calmly, without emotion. Only a slight crease between her brows betrayed her inner agitation.<\/p>\n
Svetlana blinked in confusion, shifting her gaze from Irina to Alyona.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cAre you really Irka? The one from our class?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cPlease pay your fare,\u201d Irina repeated, extending the terminal.<\/p>\n
Alyona tried to smile, masking her confusion.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cWhat a reunion! It\u2019s been thirty-five years. How are you? Married? Any kids?\u201d The bus swayed on a turn, but Irina maintained her balance confidently.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cThirty rubles per person.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cListen, maybe out of old friendship\u2026\u201d Alyona lowered her voice and winked. \u201cWe were classmates, after all. Won\u2019t you let us ride for free?\u201d<\/p>\n
Svetlana, as if back in school, giggled nervously in agreement.<\/p>\n
Irina leaned in closer. She smelled of a simple deodorant and something homey, comforting.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cFor school days, the fare is double, girls.\u201d<\/p>\n
Alyona recoiled as if struck. Conflicting feelings flashed in her eyes \u2013 was it hurt or shame?<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cAre you serious? That was a hundred years ago. We were children,\u201d her voice trembled.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cSixty rubles per person,\u201d Irina repeated impassively.<\/p>\n
Svetlana hurriedly rummaged in her worn-out wallet.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cIr, come on\u2026 It was long ago,\u201d she said, offering a crumpled hundred. \u201cWe weren\u2019t against you back then\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cNo change given,\u201d Irina snapped, taking the bill. Alyona pursed her lips. For a moment, something of the old Alyona\u2014the queen of the schoolyard\u2014flashed in her eyes.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cSo, you\u2019re working as a conductor now,\u201d she said with a hint of mockery. \u201cAnd I\u2019m in a beauty salon. As a beautician.\u201d<\/p>\n
Irina silently processed the second ticket.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cDo you remember how you didn\u2019t show up for graduation?\u201d Svetlana suddenly asked. \u201cWe were wondering\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cYour ticket,\u201d Irina replied coldly, handing over a receipt.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cOh, stop with the formalities!\u201d Alyona couldn\u2019t hold back. \u201cWe\u2019re not strangers. Tell us, how\u2019s life treating you?\u201d<\/p>\n
Irina straightened up. Her face remained expressionless; only her eyes revealed a trace of sorrow.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cMy stop is two stops away,\u201d Alyona said before Irina could respond. \u201cMaybe we could exchange phone numbers? Meet somewhere, reminisce about school?\u201d \u2014 \u201cWhy?\u201d Irina asked calmly.<\/p>\n
That question hung in the air. The bus rocked again as it came to a stop. The doors hissed open.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cNext stop, \u2018Polyclinic\u2019,\u201d Irina announced, turning away from her former classmates and moving further down the aisle.<\/p>\n
Irina resumed her work: punching tickets, answering passengers\u2019 questions, but her thoughts were far away. The past had rushed in like a wave.<\/p>\n
Eighth grade. Winter. A school corridor.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cIrinka, is that your down jacket from the dump?\u201d Alyona theatrically pinched her nose. \u201cIt stinks.\u201d Svetka giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.<\/p>\n
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\n\u2014 \u201cDon\u2019t touch it,\u201d someone said. \u201cYou see, she already has enough problems.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cOh, come on,\u201d Alyona waved off. \u201cI\u2019m just teasing. Right, Irinka?\u201d<\/p>\n
Irina silently pulled her tattered jacket sleeves over her hands and walked by.<\/p>\n
The bus slowed at a traffic light. Irina glanced back at her former classmates. They whispered among themselves, occasionally glancing in her direction. Svetlana looked embarrassed, and Alyona\u2014irritated.<\/p>\n
Ninth grade. Spring. The schoolyard.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cAre you going to the prom?\u201d asked Marina, the only one who sometimes spoke to her.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cI\u2019m not sure yet,\u201d Irina shrugged. \u2014 \u201cIrinka going to prom?\u201d Alyona interjected as she passed by. \u201cOf course, you can\u2019t even afford a dress. Or are you going in your school uniform?\u201d<\/p>\n
Svetka giggled again. A faithful echo.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cLeave her alone,\u201d Marina chided.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cAnd why are you defending her? You\u2019re from a poor family too?\u201d Alyona arched her finely plucked eyebrows.<\/p>\n
Irina turned and walked away. She never went to the prom.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cPolyclinic stop!\u201d Irina announced, returning to reality.<\/p>\n
A few passengers stood up. Among them were Alyona and Svetlana.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cWe\u2019re getting off,\u201d Alyona said with an awkward smile. \u201cListen, Ir, maybe you could share your phone number after all? I\u2019m really curious about your life.\u201d Irina looked at her carefully.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cWhy do you need that, Alyona?\u201d<\/p>\n
She hesitated.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cWell\u2026 We were classmates.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cWe weren\u2019t even friends in school,\u201d Irina remarked calmly. \u201cWhy the sudden interest now?\u201d<\/p>\n
Svetlana shifted her weight, clearly uncomfortable.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cIr, we were foolish back then. Young,\u201d she tried to smile. \u201cWho doesn\u2019t make mistakes in youth?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cMistakes?\u201d Irina raised an eyebrow. \u201cYou call that mistakes?\u201d<\/p>\n
The bus came to a stop. The doors opened.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cTime to go,\u201d Alyona tugged Svetlana by the sleeve. \u201cGoodbye, Irka.\u201d<\/p>\n
They headed for the exit. Irina watched them leave. Inside, something tightened\u2014a mix of hurt and pity.<\/p>\n
Already on the steps, Alyona suddenly stopped.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cYou\u2019re doing great, Ir,\u201d she said unexpectedly, with genuine seriousness. \u201cHold on.\u201d The doors closed. The bus started moving.<\/p>\n
\u201cLife holds grudges, but returns them at the right moment,\u201d Irina thought, watching the departing women through the window.<\/p>\n
Irina mechanically punched tickets, but the faces of her former classmates still filled her mind. The tired features of Svetlana. The strained smile of Alyona. Where was that confidence they once had as they strode through school corridors?<\/p>\n
\u201cHold on. Not like us.\u201d<\/p>\n
Those words spun in her head, giving her no peace. What exactly did Alyona mean? That their own lives hadn\u2019t turned out as they dreamed?<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cMiss, will you take me to the station?\u201d an elderly woman with a large bag tugged at her hand.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cYes, in four stops,\u201d Irina answered automatically. She remembered Alyona from school: always impeccably dressed, with perfect hair, wearing expensive jewelry. Her father \u2013 a store manager, her mother \u2013 a doctor. Svetlana came from a simpler background but always tried to stick close to Alyona, mimicking her manners, her attitude toward life and people.<\/p>\n
And now? Worn-out bags, tired faces, conversations about debts.<\/p>\n
\u201cLife is like a boomerang: everything comes back,\u201d her mother used to say. Especially when Irina came home upset. \u201cDon\u2019t worry, dear. Everything will fall into place.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her mother had been gone for ten years now. She hadn\u2019t even reached retirement by two years. Burned out from jobs taken just to provide for her daughter\u2019s education. Just to have enough to feed the family.<\/p>\n
The bus stopped again. A young mother with a stroller entered. Irina helped her settle in and punched her ticket.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cThank you,\u201d the woman smiled. Politeness costs nothing but means so much. That, too, was her mother\u2019s lesson.<\/p>\n
What could she tell Alyona and Svetlana? That she had married a good man who worked as a custodian? That she had two grown children\u2014a son and a daughter? That her husband had died five years ago from a heart attack, and she had to take on extra work to support the kids?<\/p>\n
That she hadn\u2019t been broken, hadn\u2019t grown bitter, hadn\u2019t followed in her father\u2019s footsteps?<\/p>\n
Irina sighed. Why? What was the point of proving anything to those who once hurt her?<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cFinal stop in ten minutes,\u201d the driver announced.<\/p>\n
The workday was coming to an end. One more round trip \u2013 and then she could meet her daughter and grandson. She had to get something tasty ready.<\/p>\n
Irina was surprised at herself: no schadenfreude. Not a drop. Only a gentle sadness and perhaps a little pity.<\/p>\n
She could have shown them photos of her children and grandson. Could have told her story. Could even have invited them over for tea, to listen to their stories.<\/p>\n
But why? The past should stay where it belongs. There\u2019s no point in reopening old wounds when energy could be used for something better.<\/p>\n
\u201cTrue justice comes quietly,\u201d she thought with a slight smile. Maybe that was justice? In that she had managed to build a dignified life despite everything.<\/p>\n
And they\u2026 Everyone chooses their own path.<\/p>\n
Dusk fell over the city. The last run was ending. Only a few people remained on the bus \u2013 tired workers, students, an elderly woman with her groceries.<\/p>\n
Irina settled into an empty seat. Her legs ached after a full day\u2019s work. She took out her phone and checked her messages. Her daughter had written that she would be late at work but would drop by later. Her son had sent a photo from a fishing trip \u2013 smiling, holding a large perch. Irina responded with a smile.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s strange how one chance encounter can stir up so many memories. Like a stone thrown into a calm pond, and the ripples spread, touching one memory after another.<\/p>\n
She remembered the pedagogical institute, meeting Sergey in the third year, her wedding at twenty-two. The birth of Dimka, and three years later \u2013 Nastya. They lived modestly, but happily. Sergey worked hard, and so did she \u2013 first as an elementary school teacher, then, when the salary wasn\u2019t enough, she took conductor courses. The schedule allowed her to manage two jobs.<\/p>\n
And then Sergey was gone. Suddenly, foolishly. He simply didn\u2019t wake up one morning.<\/p>\n
Irina brushed her hand across her face, shooing away the unwelcome thoughts. It had been five years, yet the pain still returned with every recollection.<\/p>\n
She shifted her gaze to the window. Outside, the evening streets flowed by, shop windows glimmered, and people hurried along with their own stories of joy and sorrow.<\/p>\n
How had life turned out for Alyona and Svetlana? According to them, not very well. Loans, job troubles, financial difficulties. Alyona mentioned the beauty salon. Likely, she now worked as a simple beautician, though in her youth she dreamed of becoming a famous designer or actress.<\/p>\n
Irina realized she could no longer recall her childhood dreams. In her youth, her concerns were different \u2013 how to help her mother, how to get an education, how to survive.<\/p>\n
Maybe that was her advantage? She never built castles in the air, never expected miracles. She simply did what had to be done, day in and day out.<\/p>\n
\u201cGod helps those who help themselves,\u201d her mother used to say. And Irina got up. She rose. She endured.<\/p>\n
The bus pulled up to the final stop. The last passengers reached for the exit.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cThank you, everyone. Have a good evening,\u201d Irina announced as usual. The driver \u2013 a young guy named Dima \u2013 turned to her:<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cIrish, you seem different today. Did something happen?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cNo,\u201d she shook her head. \u201cI just met some old acquaintances. Former classmates.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cWas it pleasant?\u201d he asked insightfully.<\/p>\n
Irina pondered for a moment, choosing her words.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cYou know, I used to think that if I met them, I\u2019d have to tell them all how well I\u2019m doing. So they\u2019d see they were wrong about me. But today I met them \u2013 and realized I simply don\u2019t care.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dima nodded, understanding.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cSo you\u2019ve let go of the past?\u201d \u2014 \u201cIt seems so,\u201d Irina smiled.<\/p>\n
\u2014 \u201cSometimes the best revenge is just living your own life,\u201d he mused. \u201cLiving in such a way that old grudges lose their meaning.\u201d<\/p>\n
She stepped off the bus. The air was filled with the coolness of the evening. Ahead lay her home, a family dinner, a call to her son.<\/p>\n
A simple evening of an ordinary day.<\/p>\n
Irina took a deep breath. Time moved on, and with it, old grudges faded, dissolving into everyday life.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Maybe you\u2019ll make an exception for old acquaintances?\u201d \u2014 \u201cNext stop, \u2018Central Square\u2019. Please pay your fare,\u201d Irina announced as she squeezed between passengers in the crowded… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":23000,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-22999","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\n