Dress for Wednesday – Short Story from Uzbekistan

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SO50_AM_S058-002 Art UK
Image courtesy: Art UK

The love story of a lonely juice-seller woman of a small remote town  

By Nodirabegim Ibrohimova

The woman combed her hair, sprayed violet-scented perfume on her neck, put on a yellow flowered dress and went to the railway station. When spring comes the hill turns green, and the tree next to the house blossoms. The clouds floating in the clear sky and the bids’ chirping raises the mood of the woman even more. Today is Wednesday – her favorite day. Wednesday comes once every seven days. The remaining six days were very boring, but arrival of Wednesday made her to live for being a woman; there was no more pleasurable work than waiting for the really to happen. She goes to the station every Wednesday at ten o’clock and starts waiting for the train.

There is only one house at this hill – her small hut. The woman was born here, grew up, got on the train and studied at school one stop away. After graduating from school her parents did not send her to study in the city, because those who went to the city never returned. Once upon a time there were many houses at the hills, but the people left for the city turn by turn. Now they have no any neighbors.

After the death of her parents the girl was left alone. She did not want to go to the city. To make living she started selling drinks near the station – fresh juice in summer and hot coffee in winter. The train stopped at the station for five minutes; most of the passengers got off and quenched their thirst. Actually, they were attracted by the beauty and solitude of this hill, and used to go for a little walk under the pretext of drinking. But the woman does not sell drinks on Wednesdays.

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A symbolic photo

She was waiting for a man while sitting at a station bench. How many Wednesdays passed, but her habit did not change. The woman used to wait for a man, who comes and they go for a walk together, sit on the grass and watch the sky and talk. After delicious meal prepared by the woman, they enjoy the pleasure of love until they forget the world. Then, another train comes in the afternoon. The man kisses her forehead, smiles, and leaves saying “see you next Wednesday, dear.”

The man had once stopped at this station for a drink for the first time. While drinking apple juice he felt affection for the woman. The man, being fed-up by the noise of the city, had dreamed of living in such expanses. For that reason he had traveled to see the hills by taking the train.

While enjoying juice, the man heard the signal of the train, looked back, but didn’t board the carriage. The woman smiled and invited him for a walk along the hill. After that, the man made it a habit to visit her every Wednesday.

However, on this lovely Wednesday, no one got off the train. The woman stared at the open windows of the carriages, searching for a familiar face. But she didn’t find him. A boy waved to her. The woman threw herself into the bench thinking ‘maybe it’s not Wednesday’, maybe she’s lost. She immediately returned home and checked the calendar – the last day marked in red pencil on the calendar was Tuesday. Today is Wednesday, ten o’clock. But, why didn’t he come?

The woman returned to the station again. Any emergency? Has something occurred that he couldn’t come? Maybe he got sick, or late for the train. Maybe so. May be he will come in the next train. She sat at the station for six hours. She did not know whether she was hungry or thirsty. When no one got off the second train, she cried covering her face with her hands. When she came home she looked at a daisy in a porcelain vase. It was brought by the man last Wednesday. The next day she threw the flowers in the trash. Then, as always, she started making a living by taking cherry juice to the station.

Next Wednesday is six days away, she thought. If she misses today and tomorrow, Saturday-Sunday will pass quickly. The woman used to go to the bazaar two stops away and buy things for herself and her home. She decided to buy herself a beautiful dress this time. A new dress for Wednesday. Maybe wearing the same dress every day bored the man. After all, since ages she only wears a dress with yellow flowers.

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A symbolic photo

The weekend went quickly. She chose a dark red silk dress. On Monday-Tuesday she did her regular work. The passengers would stop to drink juice, take a breath of fresh air, and get back into the crowded carriages. Looking at their dark faces the woman believed that the city cannot make a person happy, “I will never set foot in the city.”

At ten o’clock on Wednesday, the woman went to the station wearing a new dress and combing her hair differently. With a smile on her lips, she began to hum. She dreamed of telling the man about her life for two weeks. How good it is to have someone to tell your innermost feelings to. Then she decided to tell the man how much she missed him, hanging over his shoulder as soon as he got out of the carriage. Let the passengers see, laugh, shake their heads, it doesn’t matter. As soon as the train arrived, the woman’s heart began to beat faster.

She waited with wide eyes in front of doors of the permanent carriage where the man would get off. She lunged at a man getting out of the carriage, but she blushed and bit back when she saw that he was a stranger. The stranger asked if there was any juice today. The woman said no. After a while the train left. Relaxing, woman returned home. She stuffed the meal she had prepared for lunch into her mouth and began to swallow. The salty-tears would join the food.

The woman threw herself on the bed and lay down in thoughts. She thinks ‘was there any an accident with the man?’ Once, even when his arm was broken, he arrived without missing a Wednesday. What if he died? The woman was horrified by this thought.

She immediately got up and put the necessary things in the suitcase and put her all money to the wallet. Then she sat on the chair and waited for dawn. For some people, it is necessary to break the age-old rules; the woman decided to go to the city. She boarded the train. It seemed easier for her to find the man herself than to wait for too much. The woman knows that the man lives in the city, but she did not ask him about his home or work address. Is it possible to go into all the houses and offices in the city one by one, and is it certain that the man will be found until late at night.

After twelve stops, the woman calmed and got off the train in the city. As soon as she got out, she was surprised. She did not imagine the city to be so big and so crowded. High-rise buildings, crowded roads, thousands of cars, hurrying crowd. She sat down dizzy. She looked for a quitter place to regain her composure, but there was nowhere to put her feet, and it was difficult to even breathe. She gave herself to the people pushing each-other – the crowd pushed her and brought her to a coffee shop. Feeling hungry the woman entered to the coffee shop, where the smell of baking was emanating. She found an empty table and sat down. Soon they received an order from the woman. An older woman was also eating in front of the woman. The woman quickly questioned her, said man’s name and asked where he lived. But interlocutor was unfazed and didn’t answer.

After leaving coffee shop, the woman started to ask about the man from the persons she met on the way. People would shrug, look silly, laugh or wave angrily. The woman discovered that the towns people were not only rude, but also very irritating. At one point, the woman was a little glad when she saw that a man was listening attentively to her. She described him the man, all she knew. The man nodded and said that he had an acquaintance and encouraged her to follow. The woman followed him in a hurry so as not be late behind. The man secretly looked at the woman.

They stopped near one of the apartment buildings. The man led her to elevator. His acquaintance told him that he was on the fifth floor. The woman happily thanked him. When they rang the doorbell, a thin, bearded man opened the door. He was nothing like the man she described. That man snorted, the two exchanged glances. Frustrated, the woman took a step back, but before she could, four arms pulled her inside. When she opened her eyes on Friday morning, she was lying next to a large garbage can.

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A symbolic photo

Disgusted by the stink, woman cried when she saw the dirtiness of her new dress. She got up and put her hair and herself in order. She bit her lips hardly. Despite of the pain in her body, she entered the crowd again with bold steps. She realized that it was useless to ask people, checking thousands of houses and asking hundreds of businesses. She looked around helplessly hoping to meet him by a miracle. However, neither on Saturday nor Sunday did she find the man on the street.

When the money in her wallet was over, the woman realized that she had to work, otherwise she would starve and not be able to return home. On Monday the woman spent her time looking for a job, not the man, and got a job as a juicer at an ice cream shop. They only asked her about her work experience. She was happy that she found a familiar and suitable job. For the first time since coming to the city, she felt calm. On Tuesday she worked non-stop. There was no time to even guess where to look for the man. She slept hardly in the evening, but when she woke up in the morning, she remembered that today was Wednesday, and her heart was filled with pleasant feelings. She longed for the hill, her house, beautiful Wednesdays, delicious lunches and warm kisses of a man. She thought at that time that her life would always be like this. After all, she believed that it is Wednesday, he is also there, and she has his love, so this happy life will not end.

And now, lying on a bed, in an old blanket, in a narrow rented room, she sighed deeply, thinking that here the sky was dim, there were no flowers, and the birds did not fly. But it was impossible not to find the man; there was no point in returning home without finding him. She must find out whether he is dead or alive.

As usual, the woman did not work on Wednesday, and walked straight to the station. The woman watched trains and passengers all day long to see if the man would get off a train. But the dear face did not appear. She returned to her rented house at night, desperate. She was busy with work again. Time flew by here faster than at home. The Wednesday came again quickly. The woman was also forced to sit at the station and looking for him with tired eyes among the people.

During the week she was very tired, her shoulders ached, her eyes closed. In the afternoon she would lie down at the station bench and fall asleep. One such day, her money was stolen from her pocket. The woman who lost her little money did not even regret. Later, the woman stopped coming to the station. She stopped looking for the man among people. She used to sell juice, get tired, and sleep until she resigned herself to fate.

For some reason she didn’t think about returning home when her hopes were gone. She also understood why people who left the village for the city do not return – they do not have time to miss their homeland and remember their childhood. The woman did not realize that her memories of the man were fading from her mind and that she was becoming part of the crowd in the chaos. She did not even notice that she had become a small blessing of the big equipment as a cheap labor. Only her dreams did not break from the hill, the woman always sees herself in man’s embrace on pleasant Wednesdays, hears him whispering “l love you” in her ear, and when she wakes up panting, she sees her body in a damp room and begs God return those Wednesdays.

Portrait of sad woman sitting on bench at railroad station during rainy season
A symbolic photo

One day, it was Wednesday, when a woman was going to work in the morning. She saw a man getting out of a taxi on the main street near the train station. She felt excitement and looked at the man from a distance – she recognized that it was him. Yes, the man she was looking for! The woman crossed the street despite the cars, and ran after the man. When she entered the station she saw him getting on the train and went to that carriage. But the railway staff didn’t let her, because she didn’t have a ticket. The woman hurried to the ticket office, bought a ticket, and returned to the carriage. The train starts moving. She sat in the seat indicated on the ticket and looked for the man with her eyes. She recognized the man’s face without seeing it. That hair; that shoulder, that suit. The woman closed her eyes, put her head on the seat, paused, and smiled. Her painful days in the city passed before her eyes.

Goodbye now! She will never return to the city. She found him. He is sitting in the same carriage with her. The woman calmly took out a mirror from her bag and looked at herself. She is in a bad condition; she should not be seen like this. She slowly got up and entered the toilet. Looking at the mirror she put herself in order. She applied an old lipstick from her bag. She combed her hair with her fingers. She washed the collar of the new dress, as the juice had got on it. But it was no longer a new dress – it was wrinkled and faded. The woman returned to her place, not satisfied with herself. The man was reading a newspaper. The train left the grey city and headed for the green hills. Now she will not let him to go anywhere. Seven days of the week are Wednesdays. When the train arrived at the twelfth stop, the man stood up. The woman followed him panting. However, seeing that man was greeted by a young woman, and that two of them went to the house with each other in their arms, the woman froze, unable to get off the carriage.

As the young woman walked away, her beautiful yellow flowered dress fluttered in the breeze.

Also read: Statues – A heart-touching short story from Uzbekistan

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Nodirabegim- Uzbekistan-Sindh CourierNodirabegim Ibrokhimova was born in Fergana region, Uzbekistan on July 18th 1989. She has studied International Journalism at University of Foreign Languages in Uzbekistan during 2007-2011. Her major areas of expertise include writing books, short stories, narratives and articles, as well as translation of world literature books. Member of the Writers’ Union of Uzbekistan.

[Translated into English by Vasilahon Artikova]

 

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