Three Apples Fell from the Sky by Narine Abgaryan

Author:Narine Abgaryan [Abgaryan, Narine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance;Quirky;Love;Community;Chocolat;Armenia;Armenian;Russian;Village;Villagers;Local;Simple life;Friendship;Friendships;Feuds;Humour;Bestseller
Publisher: Oneworld Publications
Published: 2020-01-24T12:21:52+00:00

Chapter Two

Vano died shortly before Pentecost. He ate lunch, lay down to rest, and didn’t wake up. It was as if Valinka had known something was going to happen to her husband. She hadn’t left his side since morning, when they had pottered around in the kitchen garden together, headed down to the edge of town to pick sorrel for a pie, then dropped by the meidan to say hello to fellow villagers and have a look at who had brought what to barter, and then, finally, stopped in at Mukuch Nemetsants’s shop on the way home to pick up shoes they had ordered for Vano.

The shoes turned out to be just what he needed: high quality, leather, with a solid sole, capable of withstanding the mercilessly beat-up village roads, and they were slip-ons, which significantly eased the process of putting them on because he didn’t have to bend, grunting and squinting half-blindly while his disobedient fingers dug around for laces. The shoes were a bit large but even that gladdened Vano, given that the problems with his veins meant any pinching caused unbearable agony; Valinka even knitted his patterned socks without elastic so they wouldn’t press on the sensitive skin at his ankles.

Vano tried on the shoes, walked from one corner of the shop to another, and caught his reflection in a shard of mirror covered with rusty spots. He sighed with relief. He wanted to keep the shoes on, but Valinka wouldn’t let him.

“You’ll put them on for Pentecost,” she said, handing the old worn shoes to her husband. “That’s what a holiday’s for, after all, flaunting new things.”

Vano silently paid and went outside. Though he hadn’t considered arguing, he left the bundle with the sorrel and new shoes on the counter for effect. Valinka shook her head and took the things, said goodbye to Mukuch, and followed her husband. He was walking without turning around, and his large, work-weary hands were clasped behind his back.

“At least take the sorrel,” his wife shouted after him.

“I won’t,” Vano growled without looking back.

“So what was it I said that got you so offended? Pentecost’s in two days. What, you don’t have enough patience or something?”

Vano said nothing. Valinka picked up the pace, caught up to her husband, and shoved the shoebox at him. He took it but didn’t turn to look at her.

“You’ve become grumpier with age. You get offended over the littlest things,” sighed Valinka.

“If you don’t create those little things, I won’t get grumpy.”

“And what was it I said?”

“Nothing.”

“Exactly, it was nothing. I’m only looking after you. Have I ever, in all our life together, done anything that’s caused you harm?”

She opened the gate and stood aside to let her husband in but he made a point of walking past and heading to the far end of the fence, where a section was lying on its side and had crushed a currant bush that hadn’t borne fruit in a long time. Valinka folded her arms across her chest,

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