Maria by Valery Zalievska

Maria had  been reading a book when the phone rang and Derek said that Patrick had been murdered last night.
She said: “It was clear that it would happen soon. Thank you for calling.” Maria put the phone on the coffee table, closed the book and went to the shower. Onе the way she understood that she hadn’t noticed the page.
She adored her apartment, especially the bathroom. It was all black with a big mirror above the marble sink. Patrick used to bring a huge bouquet of white tulips every evening “to add a touch of light to her darkness”. But the tulip vase was empty. Maria had known that it would be since yesterday. She lighted all black candles she had and got into the shower stall. It was completely transparent and made of some kind of shatterproof glass. Maria turned the cold water and made a step under the douche. She stayed stock-still in silence for about a half of an hour. Suddenly she started striking the glass wall of the shower. She stroke hard but still without a word. She had never talked to Patrick here, as well as yesterday. He was always the one to talk. Just yesterday he said her that it must be over. He said that he was sick of her job, that he was tired of wondering about what were the names of those who paid to touch his Maria’s body with their dirty hands in this shower (She had never admitted any man except Patrick in her bathroom, by the way). Dating the prostitute had never been easy for Patrick. And he said that it was over.
Maria had never said even a word to Patrick in this dark room.She came out of the douche and took the towel, but not her favorite bamboo fiber one. She took Patrick’s towel, the one that was bought in a sport store, the one that always irritated her so much. How many times she had threatened to throw it away but she had not done it until now. Instead of drying, Maria just wrapped herself in the towel and lay on the cold black tile. The smell of Patrick’s skin still lingered on the towel, some special kind of his energy that gave her strength and serenity. She was lying on the floor wondering about how much had she loved Patrick; maybe giving up work would have been the better way. She had never thought that her job could harm somebody she loved. She had never thought that she would have to choose between her way of doing for life and Patrick. Was her choice right?
She stood up, hanged the towel and took the tulip vase. It had to be thrown away. It reminded her of
Patrick. She slipped on the wet tile; the vase shattered and shards cut her chest. Two, especially big pieces left deep cuts on her neck. They were bleeding. “How sweet of you, dear universe, but I am about to live some more time!” cried out Maria and went out of the bathroom for peroxide and bandages. She treated the wound, but there were no scissors and she tore the bandage pretty wryly and it took long to make worthy dressing.
She came back to the bathroom to gather the shards and other things that belonged to Patrick. After she threw away his razor, the shaving foam, and a pair of socks, he could not find last week, she came to the towel horse, ran her hand over the sport towel and went out to the living room.