The Breakup
Alexander: Goddamn it, Elizabeth. Answer your phone.
5 min read
Goddamn it, Elizabeth. Answer your phone.
I'm not coming back, Alexander. Leave me alone.
Why do you do this, my love? Did I not make you happy? Did I not give you everything your heart desired?
What have I done to deserve such contempt from you?
I treated you like a queen! I gave you a palace!
If by palace, you mean that dank stone monstrosity in the middle of nowhere, then yes.
What was wrong with it?
I wanted to live someplace classy! Paris. Or New York.
Are you a fool? Have you any idea how much real estate in Manhattan costs?
Whatever what?
See, that's another thing. You never understand what I say.
Do you mean your charming modern vernacular? Is it not more important that I understand your heart?
My heart wanted cable TV. Even Netflix would have been fine.
You know the cable company said they would "hook us up" as soon as they had coverage in our area.
They said to wait five years! I already missed an entire season of The Real First Wives of Las Vegas.
Ough. I don't know why I'm still even talking to you.
I want a divorce.
Out of the question! The Bolhovskies do not have divorce. Not in five hundred years.
Yeah, well, no wonder everyone in those portraits in the family hall looked so pissed.
Oh that. I think that was more because they had to sit for their portrait for eight hours without using the facilities.
I'm glad you reminded me I don't need to sit for that sleazy artist this weekend. Eight hours! I'll go nuts.
Have you not heard of cameras?
I will not have a selfie hung beside Great Uncle Andrei’s painting.
That guy with the bloody sword? Overcompensating much?
What do you mean.
Never mind. I’m done. Adios. Do svidaniya.
I insist you return to me at once.
I’m not a Fedex package.
Please, my little kutia.
My sweet sushki.
Oh no you don’t. None of that sweet talk from you, mister.
Your Prince would like to once more ride his beautiful royal steed.
Let him ravage your fields again, my little pirozhok.
Stop reminding me how bad you are at sex talk.
What is wrong with it? My father the late Prince taught them to me himself.
Gross. Vasily would never call my lady parts a field.
VASILY?? Ty che, blyad? The stable boy?
Damn right. He rides THIS steed now.
Vasily Borisovich! That traitor! I should have known.
You were spending too much time with the horses.
Anything was better than having to sit through another lunch with you.
Droning on and on about the ungrateful peasants and their revolution and ough nobody cares. That happened a million years ago.
My great-great-great-great uncle died in that revolution!
He was a prince and they stabbed him with a pitchfork.
Was he boring like you? I don’t blame the peasants.
I will strangle that boy Vasily. Ungrateful son of a šliucha.
You will do no such thing. I love him.
We’ve been here two days and he’s already gotten us cable.
And where, may I ask, are you getting the money to pay for this cable?
I hocked my ring. The one with the rubies.
My babushka’s engagement ring? How could you, my love?
That was priceless!
Oh no. That was worth a cool ten grand.
That was an antique heirloom worth fifty times that!
What other gifts from me have you squandered on meaningless purchases?
What are you calling meaningless? I can watch reruns of the Kardashians now.
Our wedding ring? It was handed down through five generations.
Please say you still have it.
No. But I do have a condo with a pool now.
Ka'kovo 'hooya??? You know Vasily does not love you. He merely wants to escape his fate as a servant.
When I get my hands on him, he will regret the day he was born.
Leave us alone, Alexander. We’re happy.
I will burn down every city until I find you.
Hah. You will never find us.
I’m on my way to you now, my pastila.
What? You don’t know where I am.
South Beach. Florida.
Goddamn it.
Vas, baby. Come home. We need to leave.
What? Why? I am expecting a care package from mamasha.
My idiot husband is on his way here to strangle you.
Wait, what do mean you’re expecting a package?
Did you tell your mother where we are?
Of course, baby. She was worried.
Damnit, Vas. I told you not to tell anyone.
Now Alexander knows. Why did you tell your mother? Everyone knows she has a big mouth.
Please do not insult my mamasha. She just knitted you a sweater.
We’re in South Beach, you stupid farm boy. What the hell do I need a sweater for.
She has arthritis. Why can you not appreciate the effort she put into that sweater?
I bet it’s as ugly as that shawl she made me.
Why do I suspect it was not trampled on by your horse as you claimed?
Yeah. I burned it. It was ugly. And blue. Everyone knows I’m a summer.
You are a lazy, ungrateful woman is what you are. My mother was right.
What did that old crone say about me?
You are a spoiled girl who cannot cook and does not deserve a husband.
The nerve! What does cooking have to do with marriage?
She says a woman who doesn’t cook is more useless than a dog.
I can’t believe I just left my rich husband for a mama’s boy.
I love my mamasha. She said she had me after twelve hours of labor.
You do nothing but watch TV all day.
Whatever. I’m leaving without you.
I hope Alexander finds you and whips your mama’s boy ass.
Do you think he’ll take me back to work in the palace? They tell me I can’t work here because I have no green card.
I hate men.