My Ice Prince - стр. 43
I finished my cigarette and put it out on my palm: another bad habit.
In the evening I began to pine: I wanted to get into the car and drive to Mischa's to talk to her, to get to know her, for she was a complete stranger to me, apparently the Mroczeks had hidden her away. I had heard that Maria’s other sister Mariszka had married Markus Morgan in the summer. I knew Markus Morgan, but we had had little contact with him. His brother Cedric I also knew and we even once studied on the same course at Harvard. A fun family: conservative, prim, puffed up. And Misha was a hysterical hysteric.
I smoked my sixth cigarette of the day, though I'd never smoked more than four. I went to the window and stared out at the streetlamp-lit street, then reached for another cigarette, but the packet was empty.
***
«There's a reason I was banned from socialising with that boor! He hit me and didn't even apologise! What am I gonna tell Mary? «Mary, I'm sorry, but your bike was ruined by some idiot vampire's car!?»? – I thought with anger boiling inside me on the way home.
I was so furious that I almost hit a couple of people, and it was uncomfortable to ride with a bent rear wheel, and my long, loose hair was in my eyes and obstructing my view of the road. When I got home, I hitched my bike to the railing, opened the door, took off my shoes, and threw them on top of the rest of my shoes.
– You're back already? So, how was your day? – Mary's voice came from the kitchen. – Are you hungry? I'll wash you a couple of cucumbers and tomatoes. And an apple!
«There she goes again with her vegetables! I told her to stay out of my way!» – I thought angrily as I hung up my coat in the wardrobe. At this moment Mary's concern irritated me more than ever.
I said nothing, went into my room, pulled off my carefully tailored suit, and scattered my clothes on the floor (I always took my anger out on them). But I didn't get any privacy: Mary came in a minute later.
– Wow, what's with the mood? – She asked, looking at the clothes strewn on the floor.
– I couldn't be worse! I got hit by a car! Or rather, it was some idiot! – I blurted out.
I was sitting on the bed, in my underwear.
– Hit? No way! – grinned my neighbour.
She grinned!
– There's nothing funny about it! I flew upside down and my skirt went up over my knees! And that idiot dented the back wheel of your bike! You think I'm joking? I'm not joking at all!» I snapped.
– You fell with the bike?
– Yes! And now my coat is covered in mud!
– But you haven't got a scratch on you.
I looked at Mary, mentally cursing her powers of observation.
– I'd just landed very luckily. And that bastard didn't even help me up! That's what men are like! – I justified myself fervently.
– But it had nothing to do with the clothes» Mary said calmly, picking up my scattered clothes from the floor.
I felt terribly embarrassed.
– No, Mary, leave it! I'll clean it up myself when I've cooled down a bit. It's like a ritual» I told her.
– You'd better get dressed, or you'll freeze» she said, still doing what she was doing.
– Mary, stop it: it's embarrassing for me when someone picks up what I've scattered. – I went up to her. – Oh, stop it, really!
She silently handed me the clothes she'd already collected.