27.06.2019

My darling full version. Maria Metlitskaya: My dear. You are my darling

Maria Metlitskaya

You are my darling

My dear!
Take me with you!
There in the distant land
I'll be your wife.
My darling. I would take you.
But there, in a distant land,
I have a wife.
My dear!
Take me with you!
There, in a distant land,
I'll be your sister.
My darling! I would take you.
But there, in a distant land,
I have a sister.
My dear!
Take me with you!
There, in a distant land,
I'll be a stranger to you.
My darling! I would take you!
But there, in a distant land,
I don't need you, stranger!

It was a high-rise. With all her appearance, she humiliated her neighbors, brothers and those around her - squat, unsightly and absurd. This magical tower, castle, with a peaked roof, a fairy-tale mansion from the fifties, was inhabited by people. Not by the people - by the People. People with capital letters. In this tower, as everyone knows, there were no ordinary people. Simple people do not live in Stalinist towers. Ordinary people, accustomed to the stench in dark entrances and grumpy neighborly voices behind the wall, huddle in wretched huts with plywood walls, in panel closets with two-forty ceilings, and in private houses, drafty, frail, with ever-flowing roofs. And they are all happy to death - their own and separate. And let the ceilings be on your head, let them go to the toilet only sideways, and let everyone take turns having lunch in the five-meter kitchenette, because everyone can’t sit down. True, I don’t have this “happiness” either, but that’s okay! There will be more! I’ll catch up again - I’m capable!

There is, of course, a concierge at the entrance. Or the doorman?..

No, still a concierge. The doorman with a beard, braid and an important cap is almost an admiral. And here is grandma. An ordinary grandmother who is entrusted with power.

People like her usually have a blast—bugs on whom something depends!

Anything, anywhere! Don’t worry - they, these “aunts in slippers”, won’t miss theirs! And yet, they won’t let you through. Not yours.

- Excuse me, who are you going to? - he politely inquires, and there is pure steel in his eyes. There is only anger. Even hatred. It must suck to sit here for days. My butt is numb. On the table is a glass of tea, a bitten sausage sandwich and cheap caramels. Dinner.

But I got in the way...

I answer. I dull my eyes, as expected. Well, since I didn’t recognize her as “one of my own”, I’ll be a good girl and a modest person.

Didn't pass for mine. Which, however, is understandable - these law enforcement officers have a diamond in their eyes! That's where we stand.

- To Krasnopevtseva? – he clarifies with disbelief and glares at me even more closely. - To Lydia Nikolaevna? - she repeats and sniffles, grins slightly - like, she doesn’t believe it. And she shook her head with dissatisfaction - like, we know you!

And rightly so, yes! He understands.

- And you, forgive her... who will you be?

- I? – I ask again with a stupid “May Day” smile. - I am related to her! Her daughter. Well... sisters!

- Mmm... sisters?

The concierge is discouraged and completely confused. Doesn't know what to do.

“Well,” I advise, “call her, Lydia Nikolaevna!” She will confirm!

“Okay,” the concierge waves her hand, “come in, whatever!” – And he swallows his tea loudly.

But there they warn such asses not to trust. Do not miss. Call security. Don't open the doors! There are now even more swindler aunts than men.

But I'm already in the elevator. And this elevator - oh! Impressive. All lifts lift! And let the red carpet get tattered. But the mirror is hanging. And the dark panels on the walls are smooth, polished, made of noble wood. A bench against the wall: if you are tired, please sit down! It's a bumpy ride, though. It's buzzing. Everything is clear - old man. Deep old man...

Sixth floor. I'm leaving. The apartment is opposite the elevator. Wooden door. Battered and shabby - everything is as it should be. Junk, of course. But still impressive. Former luxury. Also from a past life. Not replaced. Didn’t you want to or?.. Was there simply no money left?

I freeze and look at the bell. Above it is a brass plaque. First name, patronymic, last name of the deceased spouse. The listed regalia: academician, corresponding member, professor, People's Artist, Hero of Socialist Labor... Laughter, and that's all! Who cares about this now? And he wasn’t too lazy to list everything!.. I guess he loved his ringing titles. I was touched.

The bell is also “from there” - copper or brass. Shabby.

I exhale and... I press. The chime of the bell is gentle and melodic. Not alarming at all. Modern ones ring so hard that you shudder and your heart drops.

- Who? – after about five minutes a cautious and quiet voice is heard outside the door.

Well done! He doesn’t tear the door open, he’s interested first.

“Lidiya Nikolaevna,” I bleat like a sheep, “it’s me, Lida!” Lida Kanavina! Your Polina's daughter! From Lokshinka! I wrote to you...

Silence. Does he think? Does he remember? But what if it doesn’t open? And then, dear Lida, will you go back? To your N.? To your godforsaken provincial town? Will you return home to the village of Lokshinka? And all your projects, dear Lida...

Oh, how simple it is! They won’t open it for you, that’s all. They just WILL NOT OPEN IT FOR YOU.

But - don't panic! The lock clicks, the door chain rattles.

And now the door is open. The only question is – where?

Yes to a new life! Lida, go ahead! And don't be shy! You will succeed!

She stands on the threshold and looks - incredulously and suspiciously. Well, this is the time. She can be understood. If it weren’t for the photographs of Polina Sergeevna and the memorable gold-plated watch shoved right under her nose, I would be standing behind the shabby door. And then - hurry to the station.

But I'm a smart girl. Smart and cunning. I prepared everything, everything. And I prepared myself - please! Thank you for the school of life - I taught you everything. And special thanks to dear Polina Sergeevna! I explained in my distant childhood, dear mother, that no one needs me.

I’m not needed... Well, I don’t give a damn about you! Everything, indiscriminately. This is how I will live my life without heartfelt attachments. Because I know how these passions end. And I don’t need that anymore! At all. If you are with me, then so am I. Without remorse, yes. Absolutely, mind you, without remorse!

I close my eyes and look at the floor. Then I lift them up - light, clean, blue. Without a shadow, so to speak...

Sweet, modest provincial girl. A good, kind, quite pretty face. Zero cosmetics. Working hands that have known “life” - both the garden and the farm. But neat. Nails are trimmed and polished. Hair in a braid. Didn't you overdo it? It seems not, it’s fashionable now. A modest Chinese blouse, a modest skirt. Coat.

My dear!

Take me with you!

There in the distant land

I'll be your wife.

My darling. I would take you.

But there, in a distant land,

I have a wife.

My dear!

Take me with you!

There, in a distant land,

I'll be your sister.

My darling! I would take you.

But there, in a distant land,

I have a sister.

My dear!

Take me with you!

There, in a distant land,

I'll be a stranger to you.

My darling! I would take you!

But there, in a distant land,

I don't need you, stranger!

It was a high-rise. With all her appearance, she humiliated her neighbors, brothers and those around her - squat, unsightly and ridiculous. This magical tower, castle, with a peaked roof, a fairy-tale mansion from the fifties, was inhabited by people. Not by the people - by the People. People with a capital letter. In this tower, as everyone knows, there were no ordinary people. Simple people do not live in Stalinist towers. Ordinary people, accustomed to the stench in dark entrances and grumpy neighborly voices behind the wall, huddle in wretched huts with plywood walls, in panel closets with two-forty ceilings, and in private houses, drafty, frail, with ever-flowing roofs. And they are all happy to death - their own and separate. And let the ceilings be on your head, let them go to the toilet only sideways, and let everyone take turns having lunch in the five-meter kitchenette, because everyone can’t sit down. True, I don’t have this “happiness” either, but that’s okay! There will be more! I’ll catch up again - I’m capable!

There is, of course, a concierge at the entrance. Or the doorman?..

No, still a concierge. The doorman with a beard, braid and an important cap is almost an admiral. And here is grandma. An ordinary grandmother who is entrusted with power.

People like her usually have a blast—bugs on whom something depends!

Anything, anywhere! Don’t worry - they, these “aunts in slippers”, won’t miss theirs! And yet, they won’t let you through. Not yours.

But I got in the way...

I answer. I dull my eyes, as expected. Well, since I didn’t recognize her as “one of my own”, I’ll be a good girl and a modest person.

Didn't pass for mine. Which, however, is understandable - these law enforcement officers have a diamond in their eyes! That's where we stand.

And rightly so, yes! He understands.

- And you, forgive her... who will you be?

- I? – I ask again with a stupid “May Day” smile. - I am related to her! Her daughter. Well... sisters!

- Mmm... sisters?

The concierge is discouraged and completely confused. Doesn't know what to do.

“Well,” I advise, “call her, Lydia Nikolaevna!” She will confirm!

“Okay,” the concierge waves her hand, “come in, whatever!” – And he swallows his tea loudly.

But there they warn such asses not to trust. Do not miss. Call security. Don't open the doors! There are now even more swindler aunts than men.

The bell is also “from there” - copper or brass. Shabby.

I exhale and... I press. The chime of the bell is gentle and melodic. Not alarming at all. Modern ones ring so hard that you shudder and your heart drops.

- Who? – after about five minutes a cautious and quiet voice is heard outside the door.

Well done! He doesn’t tear the door open, he’s interested first.

“Lidiya Nikolaevna,” I bleat like a sheep, “it’s me, Lida!” Lida Kanavina! Your Polina's daughter! From Lokshinka! I wrote to you...

Oh, how simple it is! They won’t open it for you, that’s all. They just WILL NOT OPEN IT FOR YOU.

But - don't panic! The lock clicks, the door chain rattles.

And now the door is open. The only question is – where?

Yes to a new life! Lida, go ahead! And don't be shy! You will succeed!

I close my eyes and look at the floor. Then I lift them up - light, clean, blue. Without a shadow, so to speak...

“Well...,” she drawls hesitantly, “come in.”

With great doubt, as they say, about the correctness of my decision.

But the first step has already been taken, and I pass. I entered. Into the Holy of Holies... I was admitted! So far “one - zero”, Lida. Well done!

In the hallway (huge, like a dance floor in a club) I undress. I hang up my coat and evenly adjust my boots, as we say, at the threshold. I can’t look at the walls with my eyes - I’m well-mannered. Big eyes I do not do. And not because I saw it all - where should I? But because she is modest. Mom raised me that way.

Lydia Nikolaevna sighs heavily and makes a regal gesture. Her hand is very thin, the palm is narrow, speckled with pigment spots, but with a manicure. What about a star!

Maria Metlitskaya

You are my darling

My dear!

Take me with you!

There in the distant land

I'll be your wife.

My darling. I would take you.

But there, in a distant land,

I have a wife.

My dear!

Take me with you!

There, in a distant land,

I'll be your sister.

My darling! I would take you.

But there, in a distant land,

I have a sister.

My dear!

Take me with you!

There, in a distant land,

I'll be a stranger to you.

My darling! I would take you!

But there, in a distant land,

I don't need you, stranger!

There is, of course, a concierge at the entrance. Or the doorman?..

No, still a concierge. The doorman with a beard, braid and an important cap is almost an admiral. And here is grandma. An ordinary grandmother who is entrusted with power.

People like her usually have a blast—bugs on whom something depends!

Anything, anywhere! Don’t worry - they, these “aunts in slippers”, won’t miss theirs! And yet, they won’t let you through. Not yours.

But I got in the way...

I answer. I dull my eyes, as expected. Well, since I didn’t recognize her as “one of my own”, I’ll be a good girl and a modest person.

Didn't pass for mine. Which, however, is understandable - these law enforcement officers have a diamond in their eyes! That's where we stand.

And rightly so, yes! He understands.

- And you, forgive her... who will you be?

- I? – I ask again with a stupid “May Day” smile. - I am related to her! Her daughter. Well... sisters!

- Mmm... sisters?

The concierge is discouraged and completely confused. Doesn't know what to do.

“Well,” I advise, “call her, Lydia Nikolaevna!” She will confirm!

“Okay,” the concierge waves her hand, “come in, whatever!” – And he swallows his tea loudly.

But there they warn such asses not to trust. Do not miss. Call security. Don't open the doors! There are now even more swindler aunts than men.

When I got off at the bus station, I realized that our N. is the center of the Universe. L. was a completely out-of-the-way place - this was striking even to me, a village resident. In our N. there were three cinemas, several cafes, a couple of restaurants with live music, two technical schools and even one institute. There was a central street along which young people wandered, a long square with a monument, a fairly decent bazaar, and even an amateur theater struggling to gain professional status.

There was also a concert hall where Moscow guests sometimes performed - of course, not the most important ones.

But here... the desperate, provincial poverty of the outback immediately caught the eye.

A few grandmas similar friends on top of each other, like twin sisters, they laid out their frail food on the boxes - pale red carrots with withered tails, sunflower seeds and small gooseberries in half-liter jars. The grandmothers husked the seeds and looked around.

I got off the bus, stretched, looked around and approached them.

“Here you have an information desk, and the best gossip, and in general - all helpful information“, I thought.

The grandmothers looked at me warily, but with curiosity.

I cautiously started the conversation. The grandmothers listened and were silent - hostility and distrust were visible in their eyes. And yet - a burning interest: who is this FIFA?

Hearing that I was a teacher, the grandmothers softened and looked at each other.

Finally one opened her mouth:

A room, you say? Well, there is. And what? Ready to shoot?

I nodded. The grandmother reluctantly rose from her chair, shook the seed husks from her skirt, collected her “wealth” into a bag and, nodding to her friends, went forward. I followed her.

My grandmother turned out to be one of the taciturn people, she was silent the whole way. However, the whole journey took about ten minutes, no more. Finally we stopped at a low gate, painted poisonous blue. Grandma fiddled with the key for a long time, and finally we entered.

The plot was small, but very well-groomed: the branches of the apple and cherry trees were pruned, the trunks were whitened, the bushes were covered with gauze to prevent greedy starlings, the garden was weeded - “not a speck of grass, not a blade of grass,” as my grandmother said. Purple flowers The potatoes were blooming, the tomato bushes were yellow, and the pepper bushes were white. Near the fence, neatly tied raspberries were already turning pink. The house - also a poisonous blue color, with white carved trim and red geraniums visible behind the white curtains - was, although old, also well-groomed. In the courtyard there was a sturdy dining table dug into the ground, and a couple of benches nearby. The master's hand was felt in everything.

Grandma unlocked the house and nodded:

There were clean rugs woven from old rags by the door. Such rugs were also knitted in our village.

The floor - freshly painted - was still a little sticky. Shoes stood neatly in the entryway - washed, clean, as if on a ruler.

We went into the kitchen - also clean and even elegant: flowered curtains, shiny oilcloth on the table, a shining two-burner stove.

In the buffet - how familiar all this was to me, tears almost rolled down! - there were dishes in a row: “dressy”, guest - red in white peas rough cups and saucers. A teapot with a strainer hanging from the spout, several cut glasses and a vase with plastic forget-me-nots.

I sat down and grandma put the kettle on. We had the same teapot - huge, about five liters, dark green enamel and with a narrow spout.

And then I felt my nose itching - a sure sign of tears from my loved ones. I shook my head - no sentimentality! This is not my house and not my woman!

Meanwhile, the grandmother poured tea and placed a saucer with sticky marmalade.

Then she sat down opposite me, rested her face in her hands and looked at me sternly.

Well, did you tell the whole truth? - she asked sternly.

I grinned:

And I'm not at confession! And you are no help to me! I told what I thought was necessary! - I answered defiantly.

Grandma also grinned and nodded.

As you know!.. I live here alone - my son got married and moved to his wife’s apartment - the grandmother said so “apartment”. - The son is good, positive. He works as a driver. Big boss carries. The wife... - the grandmother thought and sighed, - the wife is not bad. He sells in the store. They have a daughter, Nadya, my granddaughter. The son comes and helps. I can’t cope alone... I’ll show you the room - my son’s ex. There is no TV there! - the grandmother added and narrowed her eyes.

Grandma nodded:

There is, how not to be. I won’t take much money from you - I don’t need it, I have enough. But if I ask you for help... - here she narrowed her eyes slyly - will you help? Are you one of our own, village girl?

“I’ll help,” I answered simply. - I’ll give you money when I get a job. Fits?

Grandma spread her hands:

I'll endure it! I won't die. Well, have you finished your drink? Then let's go, I'll show you the house!

The house was simple, rustic, ordinary - five walls with a hallway, a kitchenette and two rooms.

We went up to the second floor - into the “attic”, as Polina Sergeevna said.

The room was quite large, with sloping walls, with a bed, a table, two Viennese-type chairs and an old, huge wrought-iron chest. There was a chimney sticking out in the middle of the room.

Fits! - I nodded. - And in winter?

Will you survive until winter? - the grandmother grinned and, without waiting for my answer, said:

My stove is golden! Grandfather still laid, a noble stove maker. Your pipe will boil! You can also ask Grandma Motya to heat it less!

So that means the grandmother’s name is Matryona. There is already some clarity.

Baba Motya! - I said. - What about cooking? Can I cook with you? Will you allow me to cook? Something easy and uncomplicated, huh?

Grandma Motya waved her hand:

Let's feed ourselves! Don't think about it. I’ll make a bucket of cabbage soup or some kind of soup. I'll fry some potatoes. When we kill the cockerel with you. In autumn - wild boar. Why do you need to hang around the kitchen, rubbing your butt with me? Not men! Two women, go!.. Or is this kind of food not food for you?

“Food,” I answered, suddenly feeling how tired I was. I wanted to be alone, collapse on the bed and close my eyes.

Grandma seemed to understand everything - apparently she was one of the smart ones.

Rest! - she said and began to go down the creaky stairs.

I took off my sandals, opened the window and lay down on the bed.

“New life...” I thought. What will she bring me? Again pain and trouble? Or peace and joy?

Although... What joys are there... if only peace would be good. And even great! There is no one to look for me, and there is no one to miss me. No one in this world is interested in where this Lida lives and how. What's on her mind? Is she fed and dressed? Are you satisfied with life?

It’s strange: there are so many people in the world, but no one needs me, Lida Savinkova! Not a single living soul will remember me or cry...

It turns out that it’s a strange destiny for me, isn’t it? No one in the whole wide world...

I woke up early to the shrill crowing of a rooster. She got up and looked out the window - stupid and fussy chickens were jostling under the window, and Grandma Motya, grumbling, was pouring grain on them.

I went downstairs and went out into the yard. Baba Motya nodded:

So how is it? Did you get enough sleep?

I smiled:

Then we had breakfast with fresh, still warm eggs, brought by the hostess in the pocket of an old, dark apron. My grandmother had the same apron...

Scrambled eggs with onions, a fresh, rosy, gray brick of bread, two crooked pimply cucumbers and strong tea - that’s our whole breakfast. It couldn’t be more delicious!

I asked if I needed help. But Grandma Motya shook her head:

Go about your business and we'll sort it out later.

I put on my best dress, pinned up my hair, put on makeup on my eyes, scented myself with the rest of the perfume and went to meet my new destiny.

The early morning was still cool. The street I walked along was green and very shady - ash, linden and maple trees. The asphalt was cracked and even broken. Old, rattling Zhiguli cars drove past me, snorting stinking fumes from the chimney.

Roosters crowed, chickens clucked, dogs barked. Old village houses interspersed with newer and richer houses. The street ended and the city began. Well, or almost a city - it will be much fairer.

No, it’s still a city, a town... The central square with the building of the former district committee - now, apparently, the administration. The sign “Central Market” is funny! Central grocery store. Club and cafe. Also "Central". What fun!

It couldn't be more central, right! A few people were walking down the street - most likely going to work. Modest, poorly dressed women with ridiculous bags in their hands. A teenager rushed by on a bicycle with a string bag dangling from the handlebars.

A couple of women waddled past with baskets - they were hurrying to the bazaar (read - “Central Market”). A gloomy woman opened the post office building.

I entered the grocery store. Two saleswomen, chatting lazily, adjusted their uniform white caps.

I came closer. We started talking. I tried to make inquiries: how many schools there are in the town, what rumors about the headmistresses. The women looked at me warily and were in no hurry to gossip. One of them, the younger one, turned out to be more talkative.

School? - she was surprised. - Why do you need school? And... a teacher,” she drawled. - Well, I don’t know... The headmistress’s name is Anna Stepanovna. The aunt is not bad, it seems... not harmful. Doesn't attract parents, doesn't cling to teachers. And so... - She suddenly looked fearfully at her colleague. - Yes, I don’t really know...

And she went about her business: she began to take something out of the refrigerator and rearrange something in the display case.

I thanked her and went outside. Well, where next? To the same school? Is there anyone there today, at the end of July, in the midst of the holidays? Maybe a secretary?

The school was located half a kilometer from everything “central”. The door to the building was open and I entered. I stopped at the door marked “Director”. She smoothed her hair, straightened her dress and knocked.

They answered me and I entered. A middle-aged woman was sitting at the table, fat woman in a black dress and rough glasses. I realized that this was the same director, Anna Stepanovna.

And so it turned out. This Anna Stepanovna was sitting in her office at eight in the morning, at the end of July, and it seemed as if she had never left it.

Contrary to his appearance, she turned out to be kind and not curious.

It seemed to me that she was happy with me: the school needed a primary school teacher, and Anna Stepanovna, perking up, began to examine my diploma and work record.

Finally she looked up at me and nodded:

Well? Deal?

I smiled. We agreed that I would come out on the fifteenth of August, help with the schedule and meet my colleagues.

Anna Stepanovna showed me around the building - nothing new, everything was familiar to the smallest detail.

She walked me to the door and there she asked: do I need an advance?

I blushed and nodded. It turned out that I could come back for an advance in five days.

I went outside and took a deep breath. Everything was going well! Not bad at all for someone as “lucky” as me!

Maybe this is a new beginning for my happy life?

But who believes in this?.. Certainly not me...

Well? Life goes on?

Before work - what will it be like, Lord? - There was quite a lot of time left. Well, I took up housekeeping. To be honest, I missed the business, the physical village work that I was accustomed to since childhood. I was never a white-handed person - my grandmother taught me everything. She just said something: “Oh, Lidka! You should get a profession! Yes, good, respectful! To bow to you! And not poking around in cow shit..."

I received a respectful profession - I fulfilled Baba Mani’s order. But she never got rid of the “dung” from the village wilderness. Apparently, this is my lot...

I helped grandma Mota in the garden and enjoyed working in the vegetable garden. I cleaned the poultry house and tidied up after the rabbits. In the evenings, when the heat subsided, we picked berry bushes. More precisely, I was robbing, and Grandma Motya was sitting on a bench nearby and messing with my brains. Then she threw up her hands and rushed into the house - to the TV. Motya loved talk shows! I watched everything in a row, reveling in gossip, judging, pitying and worrying about everyone on the other side of the screen, as if it were my own family.

From the house she shouted to me:

Lidka! No, just go and listen! What a bastard! And this one, and this one!.. No, pure scum!

I denied:

Come on, woman Mot! Have I not seen the bastards? I've seen enough, thanks...

Then we peeled currants and gooseberries, cut apples, took out pits from cherries and plums - we prepared “for jam” - that’s what she said, my new companion and hostess, my only friend, my grandmother Motya.

She turned out to be a harmless, but rather stubborn old woman: it was simply impossible to convince her of anything, to argue with her. And, of course, about talking! Restrained and dry at first glance, my old lady turned out to be very talkative. Apparently, loneliness was taking its toll.

Grandma Motya told me about her late husband:

Akim Stepanych was a sharp man. And rude. Of course, he drank... But he knew his limits. I didn’t get drunk before the cattle. Well, he beat me - not without that... But he also knew how to work! He knew how to keep his word, and no one refused him respect. Have you been out for a walk? Not without that... - here Grandma Motya sighed heavily.

It happened, it happened... One day... - and her eyes were clouded with a sad fog, - my cholera went away one day! - Motya sobbed loudly and waved her hand. - To my friend, Lyubka Zaitseva. She became a widow a long time ago, from her youth. Somehow this bitch came to me to repent. I was very surprised, but did not interrupt, I listened.

And she came from the doorway to my feet: “Forgive me, Matryona! Yes, it’s my fault!..”

Well, I grabbed her and grabbed her with all my resentment and strength.

And she is an infection! - she squealed:

What, do you need one? What about me? Or am I not a woman? Not a human? I also need a man - look, there, she’s all dried up! What, you feel sorry for your dog? And she was also friends!..

I sat down on the floor and let’s laugh! And this... infection! I sat down too! He straightens his hair and laughs too! We sit together and get drunk! Clearly, not from good things... One from grief, and the other from shame. It’s like we’re having hysteria... Is that what it’s called?

And at this moment my “faithful” hubby comes in. And he sees the whole picture. He looks at us, and his eyes, like those of a mad bull, become bloodshot and pop out of their sockets.

And you know, we are getting even more excited! We can't stop! Well, he ... ran away from the hut! Scared, my hubby! And when we laughed it off, let’s both cry...

Everyone remembered how children starved during the war, how they gorged themselves on green berries and apples, and how they tossed their bellies through the bushes. As they looked for potatoes in the fields - maybe there were some left? And they found it, and baked it in the fire, and divided it in half - honestly! And how there was one dress for two, and boots. And the earrings - simple, silver, with a blue stone, they were worn to dances in turns.

And we roar like cows, we roar... And then we hugged and decided: what will this... ours say? Kobelyuk. So it will be! Who will he stay with, I mean. And we... We will accept everything. For the sake of our past. For the sake of our mothers, who dragged us throughout the war. For the sake of our fathers, both of us died. And Lyubka whispered to me that she wanted a child. She wants it so much that... Who should she give birth to? From me, perhaps? Men... on the fingers.

How about I give birth... from him? And him - back to you? - this fool whispers to me. - My cub and your Mitka will be family! What's bad? Maybe brothers, or maybe brother and sister, huh? Everyone is not alone!..

You're a fool, Lyubka! - I tell her. - Go home already. As for the baby, I don’t feel sorry for it! If it works...

She stood up, nodded her head and left the hut.

Grandma Motya was silent for a long time and looked ahead.

I pulled out the pits from the cherries with a hairpin - the skin on my fingers shrank, turned bright red and was a little sore. A “bloody” puddle was spreading on the oilcloth.

Motya waved her hand:

It ended badly! It’s very bad... - Grandma Motya sighed, - my Lyubka died... she died, little fool, in childbirth. And my grandfather... he returned soon. After two months. He came and fell at his feet. Well, I... I forgave. For Mitka's sake I forgave her. And for the sake of our friendship with Lyubanka. I understood her. And I understood him. Lyubka was cheerful and nimble. She sang, danced... She was the best singer! And I - I was no good anymore. I was in a lot of pain after giving birth. It hurt like a woman. Well, he is a man! They are all males! Everyone is bad. And my Lyubka... At least she was pampered before death! I rejoiced. And when my Akim returned, she no longer lured him, as she promised. Tightened up and let go. Home.

Motya fell silent again and looked away.

And the baby? - I asked. - Well, the one from Lyuba? Did the baby survive?

Motya turned her head away:

Yes, he survived... Only he was born crippled. I didn’t understand anything - the eyes were like those of a dead chicken, without life. He didn't even cry - he squeaked. And I didn’t take the pacifier. In general, we handed him over, this boy. They sent me to an orphanage in Anechkino. Half a hundred miles from here. What an orphan! That's what they said. Who would pull him, this boy? I? Yes, from where? Where does the strength come from? I was already forty! And Mitka was already... a big male! He was embarrassed by his brother... And then he hated his dad. Once he even attacked him with an axe! Well, I took this chicken and took it away - out of sight and out of harm's way.

I went there a couple of times afterwards. In the first year. And then they told me that your chicken died. And thank God - who needed him there, so poor? He lay there forever pissed... After all, no one could really feed him... He calmed down, that means...

And your husband, Akim? How is he? - I asked.

What does he care about!.. - Motya grinned. - I rubbed myself and... completely forgot! And about the boy he said: take this out of the house! What can I say: guys...

And we both sighed.

We made a lot of jam. What do people in the deep provinces enjoy? Bread and jam.

On Sunday, Dmitry Akimych, his grandmother’s son, came. He was a gloomy, unfriendly, unsociable man. I got married late and then late in life. The playful woman got caught - she hit the old bachelor with her stomach. Dmitry Akimych - that's how he introduced himself to me - at first he looked at me sternly, then he went up to my attic and looked at everything there. He walked around the farm, frowning sternly.

I killed three rabbits and skinned them at the porch. Then he collected all the eggs in the chicken coop, counted them and carefully placed them in a round basket.

Then he went into the cellar, picked up last year’s potatoes, grabbed pickles and jam, packed everything up and tied it with a rope to the trunk of a bicycle, made from a metal basket - like the ones they give in stores. Tested it for strength. Hammered a couple of nails into an outdoor table. I drank kvass with boiled eggs and black bread and headed home.

He didn't even exchange a few words with his mother - not to mention me.

“A tough guy,” I thought.

Grandma Motya hid her eyes from me: it was clear that she was embarrassed. And my son didn’t bring a treat...

Only then I didn’t know that this unfriendly and strange man would be involved in my fate... And how!

Five days later I went for an advance payment. The director was still there - she gave me an advance. I was almost happy! I have a corner. There is work. And there's some money! Quite a bit, but still...

I went to the central one and bought everything - sweets, waffles, cookies. Sausage and cheese. Oils and canned fish. A bottle of “Cahors” - all grandmothers love Cahors. In the department store opposite - also, of course, central - I bought a scarf for my Moti and a pair of tights for myself.

In the evening, calling me a spendthrift, satisfied Motya fried chicken, and we started a feast.

Motya did not live with her husband for long after the events - Stepanych died. Stupid death: I swam in the river, I was always an excellent swimmer, but here it’s a banality - my leg cramped.

Motya talked about it calmly - maybe she had gotten over it a long time ago. Or maybe after his death it became easier for her: no one drinks, hits, and doesn’t run around with girlfriends.

Now she is not an abandoned wife, but simply a widow. All clear. I saw a lot of women who began to live after their husbands left - beating and drinking. The women cried for “their own,” echoed in the cemeteries and finally began to breathe freely. Without a man in the village it is bad and difficult. With a man, yes, it’s physically easier. But morally... Question.

A photograph - more precisely, a photographic portrait of Akim Stepanovich hung in the red corner, next to the icon. A gloomy and angry face, cold eyes, tightly compressed lips. But there was something in his face that probably attracted women. Some kind of power, or what? Or maybe insolence?

Why did you hang it? - I grinned. - Have you seen a lot of happiness with him?

Motya was surprised:

On the whole we lived amicably. Motya was sometimes stubborn and showed me “my” place, but she quickly came to her senses, and we were friends again. These were good and quiet evenings in front of the old TV, listening to the “oohs” and “aahs” of my hostess, drinking tea with pancakes and fragrant jam.

There, in my attic, which I almost fell in love with, I finally got rid of my nightmares and began to sleep soundly.

On the seventeenth of August I went to school. The usual thing is to wash the windows, the dining room, tidy up school library, hang posters.

My new colleagues, teachers, also gathered. Everyone vigorously shared their impressions of the past vacation, talked about the harvests and mushroom hunting, treated themselves to homemade cookies and pies for tea and, of course, looked closely at me. New person always aroused interest in the outback. But making friends was not my goal. And getting close too. I liked the funny mathematician Zoechka, a recent newlywed. Zoechka showed her wedding photographs and was very proud of them. She was pretty, fair, light-skinned and somehow fresh, washed, fragrant. Geographical Svetlana is a young, black-tanned mother of two boys. Svetlana lived in a private house and ran a household. It seemed to me that she was more husbandless. Her tongue is sharp and caustic. But it didn’t seem harmful to me. Just exhausted.

Svetlana often went out for a smoke break and once called me:

Not a smoker?

I shook my head:

Not anymore.

It’s a pity,” Svetlana grinned, “otherwise I’m still looking for a couple!”

What about the men? - I asked.

Svetlana contorted her face:

Frolov came a couple of days later. An elderly and lame man in a shabby jacket and worn-out sandals. In general, Svetlana turned out to be right.

The middle-aged historian Nina Ignatievna - it was clear that the lady was strict and fair. She was clearly taken into account. Nina Ignatievna smiled at me - she encouraged and reassured me.

I didn’t like the head teacher - Dina Mikhailovna Kolkova. It was clear that the aunt was important and arrogant, nervous and explosive. She examined me meticulously, narrowing her beautiful, narrow, greenish eyes.

It turned out that Dina’s husband is the director of the plant. The only enterprise in the city. Big man! Dina lived in the only new, brick house, built not so long ago for the authorities - the head physician of the local hospital, school directors, administration, city government leaders and several war veterans. And of course, for the directors of the grocery store and department store - central ones!

The director of the plant was a man walking and drinking lightly. But an excellent boss. That's why they kept him. And they also turned a blind eye to his second family - his secretary Marina, a young and bright blonde who gave birth to a boy.

They did not have children with Dina Mikhailovna. But from them common house he didn't leave. Bye. Everyone was waiting for developments. Local “Santa Barbara”, no less. Dina Mikhailovna lived under the eternal sight of human eyes.

After work, husband and director Kolkov hurried in his official Volga to Marina and his son. The driver was dozing in the car. Two or three hours later, Kolkov, slightly disheveled, with a dull look, tumbled out of the house of his mistress and mother of his son and fell into the front seat. The faithful driver Gena took him to the “main” house - to his legal wife.

Yes indeed!.. There is definitely nothing to envy Dina Mikhailovna - definitely.

And this despite the large and beautiful (according to eyewitnesses) apartment with imported furniture and crystal chandeliers, leather coat(a fairy tale, a dream!), a beautiful figure, slender legs and an excellent haircut (Dina went to see her hairdresser in Moscow! Wow, huh? Four hundred miles away!). And how Dina was dressed!.. This is completely beyond the bounds! In my opinion, she was the only one who had a silver mink coat, a green raincoat made of the most delicate kid, handbags not from this life and everything else.

And what about happiness?.. Dina definitely didn’t have it! And it could be seen in her beautiful eyes.

I, who had experienced a lot and terrible things, felt sorry for Dina. But God forbid you show it to her!

Dina was one of those people who should not be pitied. And it’s good that I understood this right away.

To have an enemy like Dina Mikhailovna... God forbid!

And here is the conclusion: the team at our small school turned out to be not the worst. The main thing is not to come into close contact with anyone, not to become friends with anyone, not to borrow money, not to drink coffee and not to meet in the evenings. This is my life conclusion.

There were nineteen people in my third "B". The children looked at me with apprehension - what kind of fruit is this new lady? I was moderately strict, moderately witty and moderately picky. The main thing is to keep it in moderation and not to overdo it. If you let go of the bit, you will slurp everything to the fullest. If you let me sit on my head, it will have the same effect. If you press too hard, they will be afraid and hate you. However, I don’t care about their love. The main thing in my profession is justice. And also - a sense of proportion.

On the second desk by the window sat a very sad and very beautiful girl. I just couldn't take my eyes off her. The girl seemed to have stepped out of the canvas of a Venetian painter - black, thick braids, styled in a semicircular shape. Gray eyes are huge, covered with thick and very dark eyelashes, a straight, clear nose and a beautifully patterned pale and large mouth. The girl looked out the window and was obviously sad. Next to ordinary, fair-haired, snub-nosed and freckled children, this girl looked like an overseas curiosity.

I started roll call. The beautiful girl's name was Dina Smetanina. Dina!.. That's what these parents will come up with. And then the child has to live with it. I don't see anything wrong with this name. It’s just that in our outback it’s not easy to be Diana.

Rita Smekhanova was also noticeable - as it turned out, the permanent head of the class.

The first day went well overall, and I, grabbing lush bouquets from my own front gardens (asters, gladioli and dahlias), walked towards the house. The weather was beautiful! Elder Rita caught up with me on the street and volunteered to accompany me.

Outside the school gates, Rita immediately “assumed her duties” - she began to talk thoroughly and cheerfully about her fellow students. I was silent and listened. Her story was of little interest, but... probably still useful. So, for example, she said that you need to beware of mother Olya Belova - a quarrelsome and brawler. God forbid, if you put “stupid” Olka in a match - the mother will immediately “go up in flames”!

“Witty baby,” I thought.

Everyone is afraid of this mother and tries to avoid her. Even Dina doesn’t get in touch,” my secret informant concluded, “and why should she get on her nerves? Yes! More Petka Raspopov! - the headwoman caught herself. - That one... - She reached out to my ear and whispered: - That one... is pissing! Right in class, can you imagine? There is such a creeping stench - oh, dear mothers! But I feel sorry for Petka... Dad and mother drink constantly, beat poor Petka... So he pisses himself! The doctor says that Petka needs to be sent to an orphanage. And Anyuta - Anna Stepanovna the headmistress - doesn’t want to - she regrets! He says he feels better at home anyway. Dina, by the way... “Dina Mikhailovna,” Rita corrected herself, seeing my frowning eyebrows, “Dina Mikhailovna, by the way, tried to get this family into the hospital for treatment.” Mom and dad are from drinking, and Petka is from pissing. But it didn’t work out... Everything is the same: the parents drink, and our Petka pisses. He's also always hungry. Aunt Nadya, the barmaid, always pours him two plates of the first one and puts in two cutlets. So, what else? - Rita paused, shook out a pebble from her sandal and sighed: - Ahh! Sveta Temina!

And what about Sveta? - I sighed.

Svetka is sick! - Rita nodded confidentially. - I mean, on your head! He can't even think straight, no matter how hard he tries! Just stupid, that's all. So, Lidia Andreevna, don’t try too hard! Svetka will look at you like a ram and shed crocodile tears. They stopped asking her altogether - it’s useless!

I nodded:

OK then! This is all?

Rita frowned:

All? Yes, probably... - she said uncertainly and then her forehead straightened again - it dawned on her. - Yes! More Dinka! Well, so beautiful, with a donut on her head!..

I froze and paused:

What about Dina? - I asked quietly. - Is there something wrong with her too?

Rita sighed and made a sad grimace:

Everything is completely different with her, Lidiya Andreevna!

In what sense? - I felt some kind of excitement.

Yes, she's in trouble there, Dinka! Mommy's gone!

How did you get off like that? - Out of surprise, I even stopped and stared at the informer. - In what sense?

But in simple terms, - Rita was clearly pleased with my reaction. - She left, that’s all! She left both Dinka and Dinka's father, her husband! And she went to the man! For unearthly love!

And you ... how do you know all this? What about a man, what about unearthly? ..

Lidia Andreevna! - with a reproach and a sigh, the nimble headman answered. - Everyone knows this! Not just me! Our little town is small! Everyone knows about everyone! And you can’t hide this - that’s what my mother says. Dinkina's mother left for love, and that's all! For a young man. And she left her daughter and husband with her own mother! What's so unclear about this?

Rita was angry at my lack of understanding.

How long ago? What do you mean, she ran away? - I asked.

For a long time? - Rita thought about it. - Well... how to say... a year ago. Is it a long time ago or not very long ago?

I said nothing. Now I understand why the beautiful Dina is so sad all the time. Poor girl...

And who is watching her... well, watching? - I could not extinguish my curiosity.

For Dianka? - Rita clarified. - Yes, dad, probably. And there’s still grandma, my mother’s mother. Maybe she... Only this grandmother is very ancient. And sick. He sits on the bench and cries all the time.

We approached my house.

All the best to you! Rita announced happily and smiled radiantly.

I looked at her carefully.

Listen, Rit! Why do you need all this?

Rita light brows flew up.

Well ... - I continued, - all this ... gossip to tell? To me, to a stranger? Your teacher, by the way. For what?

Rita looked at me in surprise.

Haven't you been told it's not good to knock? I asked sarcastically. - Blame everything about your friends, for example?

Well,” Rita smiled again, “I don’t have any friends in my class - just friends.” Who should I be friends with? With Petka-ssykun or with Olka Belova? Or with this Dianka, who roars all the way? Nope, I don’t need this! I am friends with my older sister, Masha. With your mother! It's groovy for me. And these... - She chuckled contemptuously. - And I thought it would be interesting for you... Well, it’s easier... to figure it all out!

Yes?! I asked bitterly. - Well, well done then! Thanks for the help. But, Rita! You still think more about studying than about all... this! You are still too young to judge! Understood?

Rita nodded offendedly and said goodbye.

I looked after her - not a girl, but a little old woman. But it will go far, that’s already clear. Well ... everyone has their own way.

All evening I couldn’t get little Dina out of my head. This is fate! Anyway. There are plenty of troubles. And I went into the kitchen to my “friend” - she was suffering from pressure and was constantly groaning.

Life went on as usual, without any special cataclysms, events or impressions. And I was glad about it.

Lessons, after the third - to the buffet for breakfast, once a week Classroom hour, once every two - teachers' council.

It was a beautiful October outside - generous and bright. The last leaves were still hanging on the maples, and the fallen ones covered the roads and streets with a dense and colorful carpet. On the fences of private houses, thick and dense maiden grapes, which had long ago become a fence, shimmered green, orange, yellow and red. It seemed that the whole city of L. was covered with them.

Late apples still hung in the orchards and occasionally fell loudly to the ground. The drunken peasants with their caps pulled back and a cigarette in the corner of their mouth were selling the last of the honey mushrooms and shiny little crucian carp, laid out on newspapers, right on the ground.

Teachers were allowed to take children out for walks. It would be strange and stupid to keep them in classes in such weather, to waste the last fine days.

We walked towards the forest - more precisely, a forest located on the edge of the city, near private houses.

The forest smelled of mushrooms and fallen, rotted leaves. We sat down on tree stumps and began our natural history lesson.

Dina was almost always silent, only in nature, in the forest, she became slightly animated and began to take an interest - for example, in beetles and butterflies. During the lesson on the flying squad, she immediately turned on, quietly answered something and looked away in embarrassment. And I admired her. Like admiring a work of art - for example, an old painting.

As before, this girl worried me, worried me and... aroused strange curiosity.

In November, before the holidays, a parent meeting was scheduled - a normal, ordinary thing.

I was worried... This was my first meeting with the parents of the students. And I was even slightly surprised at my unusual excitement - this had never happened to me before.

At home, at the village school, I somehow didn’t think about work at all: well, there is and there is - what to think about it? Maybe I was so passionate about my husband? With your love, family life. With his hatred for Polina Sergeevna...

Life is getting better? And again it turns out that it is so! No, I certainly don’t expect miracles! But... it became possible to live - probably like this... And even my life became quite tolerable. I hardly thought about Polina Sergeevna. About Dimka... of course, I remembered! I imagined how they lived with quiet Masha. I imagined their child... And again I was hurt and bitter. And yet... I lived.

So, parent meeting. As always - only mothers. There are no dads - there is only grandfather. Grandfather of the good boy Sasha Solovyov. Everyone is dressed up, looking at me meticulously, with caution - probably the children told them that I’m wow... Not too harmful, I yell a little, I don’t give bad grades in vain, I don’t find fault. In general, it’s tolerable.

I immediately recognize Olya Belova's mother - by her prickly eyes, obvious crankiness and permanent readiness for a scandal. I look away. Her daughter is doing well. I don't keep a fig in my pocket. I also recognize Ritka’s mother, my secret informant - that rather pretty and very perfumed blonde has eyes blazing with interest - it’s clear who the greyhound daughter is like.

I'm starting the meeting. Everyone became quiet and listened carefully. About fifteen minutes later the door creaks and I see a man. He apologizes: “We were detained at work, sorry!”

I nod, and he - sideways, carefully - enters the classroom and sits down on the edge of the bench at the entrance.

I feel like I'm on fire. I rarely blush, but... aptly. Polina Sergeevna was also blushing, her mother was so...

I blush instantly, look away just as quickly and pretend that I’m stuffy. My parents look at me in surprise, and Sasha’s grandfather opens the window. I thank him with a nod and try to continue.

I don't look at the end bench. Where the late man sat down. Because... Because my heart beats quickly and loudly. Because I'm very excited.

Because I myself am surprised and don’t understand what’s going on. Because this man is so good-looking that you can’t even cry! And because this is Diana's father. This is immediately clear, there is no need to ask.

They have the same gray eyes, dark and thick eyelashes and pale, defined mouths. They have absolutely the same facial expression - sad and... like Pierrot.

And yet - I don’t understand how it was possible to leave such a man and this girl!

I don't understand! And my heart boils and melts... with tenderness.

Meanwhile, he takes a notepad and pen out of his pocket and begins touchingly, with his mouth slightly open - just like a daughter! - write everything down for me. He is probably one of those who considers the teacher a celestial being.

There are such. How mistaken he is!..

I was feverishly thinking about how I could detain him after the meeting. However, what is there to think about? The teacher will always find a reason.

I soon ended the meeting - it passed without incident. Even Olya Belova’s scandalous mother was quite sweet and approachable. She sat modestly on the last desk Eastern woman in a long velvet national dress and a colorful scarf with sparkles on her head. Long gold earrings with red stones swayed in her ears. There was also a fair amount of gold on the fingers - and also flashy, massive and heavy.

I realized that this was the mother of Valijon Salimov, a quiet and thin boy with huge and frightened bright black eyes. Valijon hardly spoke Russian - just a couple of phrases. Of course, I didn’t understand anything in class either. A large Tajik family moved to Russia recently - we didn’t know why or how. They only knew that the whole huge family - it seems, with five or six children - lived in some kind of shed on the outskirts of the city.

Valijon's mother was very beautiful - black-eyed, with a thin and straight nose and a bright and large mouth.

My parents began to slowly get up from the benches and, continuing to communicate with each other, said goodbye to me.

Diana's father sat and continued to write something in a notebook.

Valijon's mother remained where she was. "Does not understand? - I thought. “He doesn’t understand that the meeting is over and that he can go home?”

I sighed and approached Diana’s father:

And you, Stirlitz, I’ll ask you to stay!

Of course I didn't say that. I just asked him to stay.

He looked up from his notebook, looked at me carefully and nodded hastily.

The Tajik woman continued to sit in her place. I approached her.

Is there anything wrong? - I asked.

She smiled pitifully and a tear rolled down from her beautiful eyes.

I don’t understand anything!..” she said. - Sorry, teacher!

Her hands trembled, her shoulders trembled. I hugged her and stroked her head - like a child. "Everything is alright, my dear! I said. “You have a very good boy!”

And she nodded shallowly, grabbed my hand and, it seems, tried to kiss it.

I carefully walked her to the door and pushed her out.

Diana's father looked at me carefully and studyingly.

Finally, Valijon’s mother was safely expelled, and I sat down at the teacher’s table.

And you... - he said thoughtfully, - you are a good person, Lydia Andreevna!

I shuddered, blushed and forced myself to look up at him.

Yes, an ordinary person... - I muttered in embarrassment.

Then she scolded herself: why let yourself down so quickly? A fool is a fool! You had to smile coquettishly, clap your eyes and, with a feigned sigh, spread your arms.

But coquetry and so on are not for me. I am “tank, heavy artillery”! The words of my ex-husband are so firmly ingrained in my head that...

And I started a conversation. Of course, about the girl, about Dina. I began cautiously, but persistently pretending that their family situation was unknown to me.

He was silent, sometimes nodded and sat with his head down.

Yes... - he finally said, - you are, of course, right! Dina is very closed, uncommunicative and... - he fell silent again - and non-communicative.

She studies her lessons diligently, does not neglect her studies, but... It seems to me that she is not interested in anything! - I hastily added, seeing how upset he was.

He chuckled.

Yes, you know... You're right again! What should I do? With all this? Well, how to interest her, or what? Maybe some kind of circle? - He looked at me hopefully.

I nodded:

Yes Yes! Exactly - to interest! At least something! Have you gone anywhere with her for a long time?

In terms of? he didn't understand.

Yes, anywhere! - I got excited. - Yes, even to Moscow! Take a walk, go to a museum, an exhibition! Finally, eat some ice cream. Go to the zoo. Maybe she is...

He looked at me without taking his eyes off.

Then he said thoughtfully:

And you, Lidia Andreevna, are right! And how did this not occur to me?

I just nodded.

Three days later, on Thursday, going out into the corridor after the last lesson, I saw him - the father of my student Diana Smetanina.

He stood leaning against the windowsill and looked at me. I hesitated, began to close the door, fiddled with the lock, and he jumped up to help.

I heard his breathing, smelled him behind me and was angry with myself.

Like a first-grader, by God!

Finally we closed the door and stood rooted to the spot - opposite each other.

Both were embarrassed and stupidly silent.

Finally I pulled myself together and asked:

Something happened? Where's Dina?

He shook his head:

No no! Everything is fine! It’s just... - he fell silent, - I just wanted... to offer you something!

I, already almost in control of myself, raised my eyebrows.

What about your middle name? - I asked sternly.

Come on! - he waved his hand and repeated: - Well, how do you look at this?

I saw him freeze, waiting for my answer. I saw how worried he was. I saw how his hands were shaking, how the tip of his nose turned pale. How the lip twitched...

I thought for a minute, nodded and said:

Why not? After all, I haven’t been to the capital for a hundred years!..

He was delighted and didn’t even try to hide it: he smiled widely, and I saw his even, white and very beautiful, clear teeth, like in a picture in a foreign magazine.

And I smiled back at him. So we stood there, like stupid children, smiling at each other.

It was decided this way: tomorrow, Friday, after classes - and I had four of them - we would meet at the bus station. At one P.M.

We were terribly embarrassed and therefore quickly, hurriedly, somehow crumpled goodbye and went in different directions: he went outside, and I went into the teacher’s room to put down the class magazine.

We didn’t discuss anything else - neither plans for our trip, nor time spent in the capital, nor overnight stay - it was clear that going for one day was ridiculous.

I wandered home in some strange, incomprehensible mood.

On the one hand, all this was a miracle and unreality, but on the other... Yes, it was complete stupidity! A stranger to me, the father of my student. He makes me a rather strange offer, and I agree to it! Without knowing the details, plans and generally understanding little. And Dina? What will happen to her? What will happen to all of us in this ridiculous and rather wild situation?

I told Baba Mota that I was leaving for three days, for the whole weekend. She was surprised, but didn’t ask any questions. For which I was eternally grateful to her.

I got up early, washed my hair and, after drinking tea, went to school. These four lessons seemed to me the longest in my life. Then I returned home, put on my best blue jersey trousers, a white knitted sweater, threw on a jacket and threw an umbrella and scarf into my bag. Luckily, I had money - I managed to put something aside. In the bag I also put a change of underwear, new tights, a bottle with the remains of my favorite perfume, a pack of cookies and a few sweets - for the road.

At exactly one o'clock I was already standing at the station.

There weren't any. I hid under the canopy and eagerly peered into the distance. It was fifteen minutes past two on the clock.

“I have to go home,” I thought and felt my legs getting heavy and my head starting to hurt. God, what an idiot I am! So agree! What do I know about this person? Maybe he's crazy? A man moved with grief? Crazy from birth? And that's why his wife ran away from him? Or maybe he was joking? I joked like that idiotically because...

And at that moment I saw them. They fled, out of breath, in open jackets, with a large bag in their hands.

They ran up to me and stopped in their tracks.

Dina looked at me with fear. Her father began to stormily apologize, make excuses, and it appeared that they had been detained by some Daria Ivanovna - as it turned out, Diana’s grandmother.

The bus left in twelve minutes, and we, having bought tickets, remained embarrassed in silence and pretended to look around the surroundings.

When the bus arrived, we all, including Dina, it seemed to me, felt great relief.

Dina sat down with her father, I sat alone, by the window, behind them.

The weather was quite decent - the sky was not gloomy gray, autumnal and tearful, but bright blue, with small and neat clouds, similar to young and unshorn sheep or young polar bear cubs. The whitish, cool sun was peeking through - it was already absurd to rely on its warmth.

The road turned out, of course, to be disgusting: we were shaken by potholes and ruts. But this did not stop me from dozing off and even having a strange and incomprehensible dream: as if I was climbing a wonderful staircase - very steep, going into nowhere, without end and railings. The staircase is white, even snow-white, as if made of granular and porous material, similar to polystyrene foam or sugar. I even want to lick it, but for some reason I keep getting up and up - without stopping. And it’s so easy for me to do this that, without panting or resting, I go higher, almost skipping, in a hurry and strive further, upward. It’s as if I know: something very good and happy is waiting for me there. That's why I'm in a hurry...

I slept for about an hour and woke up when the bus suddenly braked and stopped. Stop - I realized.

At the stop - and it was a fairly large bus station - three women and a man entered. Villagers, poorly and poorly dressed, in rubber boots and old jackets that looked like zipuns. The women were wearing dark scarves. I saw their hands - calloused, rough, red, with short and not very clean nails... And I remembered my grandmother... Yes, so vividly that tears stuck in my throat - just so as not to burst into tears!

One of these aunts sat next to me. And I heard the smell of a stable, fresh milk and wet earth emanating from her.

And again I imagined my woman, and again my throat tingled, and again I was alone in the whole wide world... And “useless” to anyone, no one - that’s what she, my woman, said about me. My beloved Manya. And with these words I always started to cry...

About an hour and a half later there was a stop again, and the driver announced a “smoke break.” Everyone happily rolled out into the street to stretch their legs and go “until the wind.”

The driver shouted to us that there, around the corner, was a good, proven canteen for drivers.

And you can have a snack if you want. Cheap and fast.

We went to the dining room - a small shed, the inside of which was, oddly enough, clean and even cozy.

Dina asked for a sweet, but there was no sweet. The young barmaid sighed loudly and took out a large glass jar with plum jam. She opened the jar with a knife, and with a spoon dumped thick jam into a soup bowl. I took a cookie out of my bag and the girl's eyes sparkled. The cookies with jam went with a bang: Dina smiled and gobbled them up with appetite, washing them down with compote.

Valentin ate both the first and the second - it was clear that he was hungry and also that he was completely unpretentious and not spoiled.

Then we set off again, and I saw how both father and daughter dozed off. The girl slept with her head resting on her father's shoulder. And he, throwing his head back on the seat, immediately fell fast asleep, his mouth parted and snoring loudly.

I looked out the window, where everything was already plunging into the early autumn twilight, and thought about what a stupid idea this must be. My heart was uneasy. How will it turn out there, in Moscow? How will everything work out? And how will I then get out of this whole difficult, stupid situation in which I put myself? And even with great and hasty joy!

We arrived in Moscow at nine in the evening. We arrived in complete darkness, but the city was illuminated and did not look gloomy. I probably looked gloomy - completely despairing of our journey.

We went outside and I looked questioningly at Valentin. She didn’t deny herself some barbs either.

It was clear that Dina was tired, rubbing her eyes, shifting from foot to foot - she wanted to go to the toilet.

Valentin took a piece of paper out of his pocket.

Yes, Yangel Street! - he announced joyfully and added confusedly: - But this is where this Yangel lives... that’s what’s interesting!

It turned out that there was an apartment on Yangel Street, unknown to us. This apartment belonged to Valentin’s college friend. He called and agreed on everything. We were provided with overnight accommodation for two nights - from Friday to Saturday and from Saturday to Sunday.

I breathed a sigh of relief:

Well, thank God! And then...

I didn’t have time to finish. Valentin looked at me in surprise and asked:

Did you think that I would go like this, without,” he twirled his fingers in the air, “without an exact address and location? I’ll take my daughter and a beautiful woman there - I don’t understand where? Into the unknown? Will I offer them a tent on the street or a trestle bed at the station?

I blushed and remained silent. We caught a taxi and went to the mysterious Yangel Street.

We were silent in the car: I was out of embarrassment, and he... Maybe out of resentment? My caustic tongue has failed me again! What a fool I am, Lord! A hopeless fool, that's all!

The car stopped at a new multi-story building. We entered the correct entrance and went up to the eighth floor. The door was opened for us by the owner, a young man who was clearly delighted to have late guests.

We put Dina to bed and decided to celebrate our acquaintance. Denis - that was the owner's name - began to awkwardly peel the potatoes. I took the knife from him and started eating dinner. The men were smoking on the balcony and chatting about something. I didn't listen. I fried potatoes and looked at the city lying in front of me. It was all covered in bright, iridescent lights - huge and incomprehensible. And for the first time I thought: would I like to stay here? This city would suit me - here, in Moscow, I would get lost among the noisy crowd and the vast, unknown space. And no one would have found me... And no one would recognize me...

We, provincials, were, of course, stunned by the capital.

We adults still somehow put on a “pretend” and “kept our face,” but little Dina was completely at a loss. The girl was scared of literally everything - car horns, traffic controller whistles, high-rise buildings and the deep underground of the subway. The chimes of the tram and the thick, stubbornly rushing forward, restless and fast, impetuous crowd.

Dina even refused ice cream - apparently, a piece of it didn’t fit in her throat. We held her hands - Valentin on the right, me on the left.

On the first day, we walked along Red Square, examined the Tsar Cannon and the Tsar Bell, went into the noisy and seething GUM, from which we immediately ran away. We walked along Tverskaya, stood at the monument to Dolgoruky and, completely exhausted, decided to have a snack.

We found a cafe in the Patriarchal area, deciding that there, on the side, the prices would be more affordable. But the prices still seemed huge to us - I saw how embarrassed Valentin was. And yet we had nowhere to go - Dina looked at us with wide eyes and carefully studied the menu.

And now the choice is made. Of course, even though I was going to pay for myself, I chose what was cheaper. I saw that Valentin thought the same. But our girl had a blast: Dina ordered some very expensive dishes: some kind of shrimp cocktail, a crab cutlet and raspberry cake for dessert.

The food was amazing and delicious! And the situation did not disappoint: from the window near which we sat, we could see a pond and white swans circling in the water, gliding like figure skaters. Dina looked with all her eyes at this bewitching, tender, loving dance.

And then again ... the devil pulled my tongue! Idiot! I began to tell her about the legend, how swans are faithful to each other, how they cannot imagine life without each other: a widower or widow throws a stone from heaven to be killed.

And suddenly I caught Valentin’s attentive, very intent and slightly strange gaze. Lord, Lida... I was terribly embarrassed, blushed (oh, Polina Sergeevna, thank you!) and changed the conversation.

Dina suddenly wrinkled her face, about to cry. We began to distract her, and, thank God, we succeeded. I looked at Valentine and apologized with my eyes. He nodded in understanding and touched my arm.

And my heart, my icy, frozen heart fell apart into thousands of sharp fragments. Don't get hurt, Lida! Watch out! After all ... if anything ... you simply will not survive, you hear! How much can you lose?!

From the outside - I noticed - we looked like an intelligent provincial couple who came to the capital with their beloved child.

The rest of the day we wandered the streets, went to see cartoons and ate ice cream in a small and cozy cafe on Smolenskaya Square.

When we returned, we immediately put Dina to bed, who did not object for a minute - the girl was literally falling off her feet from fatigue.

The owner, noisy and hospitable Denis, was not at home - he “moved out to see his sweetheart.” There was a note on the table.

“Everything is clear,” I grinned to myself, “it’s a bit cramped, and so as not to disturb us. Surely this dear Denis decided that Valentin and I were having an affair.”

We drank tea in the kitchen and chatted about everything: about the past day, about impressions, about Diana’s delights and fears.

Then we were silent for a long time. And suddenly, completely unexpectedly, Valentin began to tell his life.

As it turned out, Valentin’s father was one of the Spanish children taken from there in the thirties.

This is where their bright, almost sultry, southern beauty comes from! My father got married very late, and even then almost by accident: his mother, Valentina, completely young girl, became pregnant by a handsome Spaniard at the very beginning of their strange and impetuous romance. What can you do - I had to go to the registry office. We lived well - in a small apartment, in a tiny town thirty kilometers from Moscow. Mom graduated from technical school and worked at a worsted factory as a senior technologist. My father was there, some kind of worker, a machine operator. Soon Valentin was born - Valencio, as his father called him. And all these years he, Don Juan - or in our opinion, Ivan Ivanovich - dreamed of finding his loved ones in his homeland and was very homesick for his native Spain.

The Red Cross helped: relatives were found, contact was restored, and Ivan Ivanovich, aka Juan, got ready for his hometown of Sabadell, where his distant relatives lived.

His wife, the mother of little Valentin, could not go with him - her elderly and very sick mother remained at home. We decided: of course, let him go! What a great joy - to finally find a family and relatives! And there it will be seen.

Of course, the wife knew about her husband’s plans to return to his homeland - they discussed it many times. And she herself didn’t mind, understanding what was there - yes, for sure! - life will be better, more satisfying, warmer and more fun. But there is a sense of duty, there are obligations.

Ivan Ivanovich left, and - as in that cartoon: “he promised to return.”

And time passed... My husband wrote that soon, that very soon, in a couple of months, in six months... There is very little left, and they will finally be together - like before!..

But very soon everything, on the contrary, became not very clear: Juan wrote that he had found an excellent and well-paid job - in a factory, with his second cousin. You can raise a decent amount of money - both for a car and for a new apartment. In a word, “I’ll work here for now, and you wait.” And he even sent some rags to his wife and child. But time passed, and he was in no hurry to go home. Valentina's mother began to get nervous, write often and harshly, appeal to her conscience... And then... he disappeared completely! Completely disappeared - not a single letter! They started looking for a phone number and found it a few months later. Finally we got through. A woman with a very creaky and annoying voice answered the phone. She spoke Spanish, of course. The mother did not understand anything, she just shouted: give me Vanya! Listen, Vanya! Juan, my husband!

The old woman hung up. The mother tried to call again, and again to no avail - they didn’t call her Vanya to the phone.

And one evening the postman came and handed her mother a registered letter.

Mother signed and immediately tore the thick, bluish envelope. It was printed in color, obviously official. Understanding nothing, the mother rushed to her neighbor, a German teacher. Well, she translated as best she could: dear Vanya asked for a divorce. More precisely, his lawyer asked.

Mother divorced very quickly - she was proud. And after that she began to get very ill. Now pressure, now one thing, then another... From a young and healthy woman, she turned into a walking wreck. She was advised to apply for alimony, find him, shake him thoroughly - in a word, punish the traitor. She refused. Money became really bad, and twelve-year-old Valka took on any job just to bring a penny into the house. In winter, he carried mail (they pitied him and his salary was issued to adults). In the summer, he picked berries and mushrooms, picked lilacs in the front gardens and went to sell them “for the road.” He worked as a laborer in the old people's gardens, sawed and chopped wood, carried water, and dug potatoes in the fall.

We survived somehow,” Valentin sighed quietly.

And then his mother died - he was sixteen then. And he immediately changed his last name - he took his mother’s. I didn’t want to wear the Spanish one. Thank God, we have already managed to avoid boarding school. He locked the apartment and left for Moscow. I entered college and was given a bed in a dorm. And again he worked part-time so as not to “die of hunger.”

There, at the institute, he met her, Diana’s mother.

She was very beautiful... - Valentin smiled sadly. - And yet... so special! I grew up without a father, in a small town, with my mother. Not one of the “happy” ones either.

That's what they agreed on. Although... a lot of girls ran after him.

I thought: of course! So handsome! And there were probably Muscovites - with wealthy parents and their own apartments. But he chose love.

Applause!

She and Larisa got married in their last year. They were not given a family room: they said, solve your problems yourself. It was expensive to film. And yet they filmed it. A tiny room on the very outskirts, in Lyublino. They ate potatoes and cabbage. We only dreamed about sausages and sausages.

And after the diploma, Larisa offered to go to her, to her town, to L.

Why? At least there is a house there. Housing. The mother is not harmful, quiet - due to age and ill health. I’m tired of starving, and darning socks, and dreaming of a movie ticket... And it didn’t matter with work in Moscow, assignments were canceled - get a job yourself, no small ones.

It was a pity, of course, to part with Moscow - we got used to the capital. Although... They never received the benefit, and they did not see a bright life - there was simply no money for a “bright” life.

Valentin lost his apartment in his town - it was a service apartment from the plant. Instead, they gave her a room in a dorm - they went, looked and - ran away. The room was terrible! With holes in the floor, broken windows and traces of mouse shit in the corners.

Benefactors!.. - Valentin chuckled. - They didn’t leave the orphan on the street, right?

I nodded with a deep sigh. To get something from us... They can only take it away.

And those were troubled times, post-perestroika. Everyone is completely confused.

Well, we went to L. Of course, the town gave a miserable impression...

Deep province, yes. But the house of his wife’s mother, his mother-in-law, was not bad at all: two floors of white sand-lime brick, gas, electricity, a good plot with a decent garden (the mother-in-law was a hard worker, despite her addiction to drinking). She drank quietly, almost imperceptibly.

The house was built by his wife’s father, who died early from vodka (what a pity! He was such a man, handy! He could do everything, everything! - the mother-in-law grieved).

Well, they began to take root little by little. This and that, they found a job: he is at the factory, she, the wife, is in the same place, in the personnel department. Salaries were cheap, but at least they were paid! Besides, it’s my mother-in-law’s garden. They brought chickens and two piglets and healed themselves. The main thing is not to starve.

After all, not everyone lives in capital cities! And they are not residents of the capital - they are provincials.

And then Dina was born... That was happiness! How grateful he was to his wife!..

He had everything now: family, home, wife, mother-in-law, work... And most importantly, his girl, daughter. Dina.

How happy he was!..

I immediately remembered my wedding with Dimka, our first room and our entire life at that time. And a familiar, acute feeling of enormous, impossible and unique happiness!..

How familiar all this was to me. How I understood him... We were alike - lonely orphans, devoted to our loved ones to the last drop of blood.

Valentin stood at the window for a long time and was silent. Then, without turning to me, he said quietly:

And it's... over, that's it. Trite and vulgar... She left me. More precisely, from us! It would be nice from me - I could still survive this. But... She left her! From own daughter. She betrayed her! Exchanged it for some guy. To the capital. You understand? - Valentin unexpectedly switched to “you” with me.

Well, that's normal. When a person turns his guts out like that, exposes his sick soul like that... What kind of ceremonies are there?

That guy, Larisin’s lover, turned out to be a Muscovite - he was in the city on a business trip. Well, they twisted... deftly and quickly. And one day she packed her suitcase - also deftly and quickly. She slammed the latches and threw it somewhere to the side: “I’m leaving!” Don't object and don't stop me - I've decided everything! And I leave everything to you! More precisely, you! Live here..."

Then she threw on her cloak and began to put on her shoes.

What about Dina? - I asked.

What about Dina? - She seemed even surprised. - By the way, she has you - her father! And there is a grandmother. Your Dina won't die, don't worry!

After these words, I was speechless... and couldn’t find what to answer her. He watched dumbly as she cursed without hitting her shoe. How the door slams. How quickly he walks along the path to the gate. How he leans over and smells a blooming pale pink peony.

She has always loved peonies...

And that's it... She's gone! But it just doesn’t get to me... it doesn’t get to me yet.

Just one thought: how could I? How could I live with her all these years? How could I not notice? Feel nothing? How?

And then I remembered something. How stuffy it was for her in L. How she complained that she had returned here. How I dreamed of returning back to Moscow. How I envied the beautiful rags of Dina Mikhailovna, the director’s wife. Her apartment and positions. She once said:

Oh, how I would like to be a housewife!..

Mistress of what? - I was surprised. - You seem to be the mistress...

Life, dear! - she laughed and patted me on the cheek - like she patted a puppy, like she patted a boy. Yes, I was essentially her puppy - a boy whom she never took seriously.

Hastily getting ready, she kissed her daughter and looked at me:

Sorry, Valik! Did not work out! I so wanted to be a good mother, daughter and wife! Honestly, I wanted to! Sorry…

And that’s it... We were left alone. Dina seemed to understand everything: her mother had left forever. Of course, I lied about something - a business trip, a vacation, this and that... But my girl didn’t believe me... And then the problems began. Which ones - you know. I tried really hard to be a good father. But even the most average mother... You understand...

I understood! Oh, how I understood! Who else if not me...

I immediately remembered all my pain. My heart ached so much that tears came to my eyes.

Valentin took my hand. And then he hugged me. We stood like that for a long time, holding hands and hugging.

In the morning, waking up before everyone else, I looked at the clock in fear: half past seven! Dina can wake up!

I pushed Valentin away and sent him to the girl’s room. Dina was fast asleep. I lay down on the cot and... closed my eyes.

Did I wait? Have I waited for my happiness? Your destiny? Your love? Yes, I waited! In the end... How much is possible? How long can you suffer? Each person is initially given his own measure of grief: for some a glass, for others a bucket. To whom - a whole lake. I didn't measure mine. But it seemed to me that I had already drunk everything from my dirty puddle.

We quickly had breakfast, trying not to look at each other, and hit the road. Only on this day everything was different.

Everything was happy and bright. Everything was joyful and familiar.

The sun was shining in the sky, it was completely quiet, windless and quite warm.

We walked at the zoo, then had lunch at some dumpling shop, and everything, including the over-salted broth and sticky dumplings, seemed to us the pinnacle of culinary art. We were so happy!..

After lunch we went to " Child's world" And that's where we had a blast! Dina perked up and suddenly wanted a doll, a plastic kitchen with a stove and pots, a checkered skirt with fringe, a yellow sweater with a brooch, and an elegant dress with blue polka dots. And we bought all this, not counting the money, and were happy again! Because our child’s eyes were burning!

I guess I wasn’t so happy even with Dimka. Dina extended her hand to me and looked at me embarrassed:

Lidia Andreevna! Do you know how to do hair?

Hairstyles? - I was confused. - Well I do not know. You can try... - I was confused.

Yes, I will teach you! - Dina perked up. - It's simple! -...Fishtail braid, you know? And the French one? And the braids? - the girl chattered. - Should we try?

I nodded. And I saw the happy eyes of my man.

And then we bought a big cake and decided to celebrate our trip, our journey at home. More precisely, visiting Denis.

Dina chatted incessantly, looking around. She chirped that she really, really likes Moscow! Much more than L. And there are so many interesting things here! And what beautiful people! And what kind of clothes, right? What about cars? What about at home? No, you look! What about the shops? How much is here! Dina admired.

Valentin and I looked at each other and smiled.

The next day was Sunday and we had to return home. And I didn't want to leave. I didn’t want to at all... But what to do... life dictated its own.

On the bus, Valentin and I sat together - that’s what Dina wanted. And she sat down in front of us and immediately fell asleep.

I laid my head on his shoulder and he took my hand. We didn’t talk about anything, afraid to frighten away, to spill our happiness.

So, in silence, we drove the whole long way to our city. Dina slept almost the entire way. In L., at the station, we said goodbye for a long time.

So where next time? - asked Valentin.

Let's go to St. Petersburg! - I burst out. - There is so beautiful!..

In June, for the white nights! - Valentin picked up. - What a trip it will be!

And we said goodbye.

At night I remembered the fishtail braid and smiled. Will learn! I have already missed both him and Dina, his daughter. I miss you very much.

Thus began my new life. And she, this life, was wonderful and beautiful.

Dina gradually changed and became different. She began asking questions in class, walked with girls during breaks, quarreled with boys, and came running from the cafeteria covered in powdered sugar. Ordinary child. Only very beautiful. And yet - very dear.

We met with Valentin in the evenings. We wandered the streets, sat in our only and wretched cafe “Walk in!” People called him "Brad". Sometimes - in our yard on a bench. Baba Motya went to bed early.

We didn't talk about our future.

Finally, Valentin himself started that conversation. He said that he loves me very much and cannot imagine life without me. That Dina is also very attached to me and endlessly talks about “Lidiya Andreevna.”

“Your name just doesn’t roll off her tongue! - Valentin admitted. “She began to eat well, sleep normally and do her homework with pleasure.”

My mother-in-law understands everything - in the sense that I have a woman,” Valentin continued. - She has nothing against it, no. But, Lida... I can’t bring you there, to her house! I find it awkward. And yet, I feel sorry for the grandmother. And so she suffered. With such and such a daughter... And here I am, you, Dinka... Well, in general... What should I do, Lida? “I don’t know, I’m sorry,” Valentin sighed sadly. - Rent an apartment and move in together? - and he looked at me questioningly.

What could I answer? Of course, something had to be done. Think. Decide. Look for options. Build a family. We were both ready for this. Otherwise, what is all this for? We are adults and have seen a lot. Wounded and "shot"

Since fate has turned this way! Only it seemed to me that these words and this decision should not be made by me! It’s not me who should propose and it’s not up to me to follow the last word. And Valentin... it was as if he was waiting for my orders.

We were silent again, and then he said:

And Dina, you know... Well, you have to understand: it’s not always easy with her, Lida! Besides, it’s someone else’s child. Are you sure you're ready for this? “I’m... afraid for Dina,” he continued quietly, “she’s already had enough, as you understand.” I can't take any more risks.

I was surprised by his question. I was very surprised. Doesn't he really see? Doesn’t he understand what his girl means to me? Am I afraid of difficulties? Can't get along with my child? With a child who has long become my family? After all, I am a teacher. Teacher. I know how to get along with children. What is he afraid of? What won't we do? And why will Dina suffer again?

I was almost offended, but then I pulled myself together and tried to understand him: he is a father and that says it all.

“Let’s wait,” I reassured Valentin. - Why should we rush? Let Dina get used to having me in your life. And then... Well, in the end, we’ll rent an apartment. Or... - I paused, - maybe we can leave? The world is huge! Maybe to Moscow... She liked the city so much! If you don’t want to go to Moscow - or anywhere! At least to the Far East! We are young, we have professions. And together we are not afraid of anything!

Valentin nodded silently. He agreed with all my reasonable arguments. And it also seemed to me that he sighed with relief... No, it just seemed to me... But I wanted something completely different! I wanted him to object: why waste time? We are so happy, Lida! And I love you so much! And you are wonderful! Let's get together and improve our lives!

And what does his mother-in-law have to do with it? Why should I care about all this? And why do I need her house? I don't claim it.

Should I invite him to come see me? To my village? No, I definitely don’t want that! Everything there is like a cemetery of memories. Dimka, woman, Polina Sergeevna... My drinking and my abortion. Don't want! I closed my house. And she closed it forever - just as she “closed” that life of hers.

And one more thing: he is a man, I am a woman. I'm ready for anything, anything. Get moving, change your life. Deprive yourself of your usual comforts. Good work. Raise his daughter. Love him forever. To be faithful to him and share everything. But I'm not ready to propose to him! The proposal is a privilege, excuse me, of men.

And again everything went as before. No, everything was good and even excellent. But... we are not teenagers for a long time, and this whole life, with its walks in the evenings, stupid sitting in a cafe, on a bench near the house, in other people's entrances... All this was quite nice in the first months...

At school, of course, everyone knew about our romance. But they didn’t gossip much. Or maybe they were gossiping, but without me. In the end, we were both free, we didn’t break anyone’s families or hearts, we didn’t take away other people’s spouses. Why discuss us? And everyone pitied Dina and her father. It was more interesting to discuss the personal life of our head teacher, Dina Mikhailovna. And everything was seething and foaming there! It just smelled lousy... that was the story with the smell. The people were divided in half: some condemned her reveler husband and felt sorry for Dina, while others felt sorry for her mistress Marina, who gave birth to the director’s son. But the director still did not make a decision. What he was pulling is unclear. And what was proud Dina holding out for? It's also not clear. The woman is beautiful, proud, smart. Why does she need all this? Maybe she loves him? Loves you so much that you are ready to forgive? Or are you ready to endure it so long as he doesn’t leave? Just guesses... But Dina Mikhailovna was still cold, unapproachable, and no one understood what was going on in her soul. Beautiful, with a straight back and sleek hands, an impeccable manicure, an exquisite haircut, wearing foreign clothes, high heels. Diamonds in the ears. And the aroma of French perfume trailed behind her along the corridor. Everything is clear: Dina has passed!..

I often thought about how bad she must be. Alone, in a huge, beautiful and empty apartment. Among foreign furniture, crystal and paintings. Among carpets and delicacies. I imagined how she, without turning on the light, wanders barefoot along the carpets and peers into the blackness of the night - listening for a car to stop at the entrance and for the entrance door to slam. Has her prodigal husband arrived? And since he’s arrived, it means he’s still better off at home than there? Despite her youth, despite their common son. So he wants to go home? So this is his home, and not there at all? So he... needs her? So it just happened that way, and he didn’t... stop loving her? Well, to the end? It happens like this: a young girl gives birth to a respectable and wealthy man, right? To secure your future and yours... motherfucker. He takes advantage of the fact that his wife couldn’t. And she did it! Easy, no problem. Vile young thing, healthy mare! Have you decided that you will jump over? Will you jump over me, Dina? But no! It doesn't work out, does it? That's it! And anyway... we'll see. We'll see who wins!

That's what Dina thinks. I can well imagine all her thoughts. I also experienced something and understood something. I felt what it was like to be betrayed. You wouldn’t wish it on your enemy... But why? Didn’t I wish harm on this quiet and pale Masha? And to him, my ex-husband? Didn't I want them to hurt as much as I did? I really wanted to! And I'm not ashamed to admit it. To yourself...

And for Valentin I will remain “the holy and immaculate Lida” - that will be more correct. And my “demons” will remain only with me.

And everything was as before. By the summer I was completely limp. Time passed, but nothing changed. No, everything was fine with us! Valentin was gentle with me, and I felt his love. But I’m tired of wandering around the gateways.

And then I started the conversation myself. He listened to me silently, agreed and said that we needed to “get started.”

Start what? - I grinned. - Haven't we started yet?

Valentin was serious.

Start a new life! - he said sternly. - Joint, Lida!

And I trembled like a schoolgirl. Like a seventh grader falling in love for the first time. He decided: we will have a family!

Applause! Fanfare and mascara!

And we began to discuss pressing problems: renting an apartment or half a house, doing some repairs, if necessary. There should definitely be two rooms: ours and Dianina’s. Finally, talk to your mother-in-law and... live happily ever after!

I exhaled and thought what would have happened if I had not started the conversation?

Anyway! In the end, the result matters! And that all men are indecisive people, I realized this a long time ago.

We started looking for housing. We found half a house in a suburb, on the outskirts, not far from Aunt Moti’s house. In the second half lived the owner - grandfather Anton, a lonely widower. Aunt Motya said that grandfather was not harmful and “he would let us live.” He asked for a little money - we accepted. But the housing turned out to be completely neglected: faded, whitish wallpaper hung from the walls in torn shreds. Pieces of the ceiling, covered with white paper, which over time became yellow, with dirty stains and dried corpses of mosquitoes and flies, kept “falling” on my head. There was almost no furniture: a rickety chair, a couple of stools and a table tilted to one side. There is Ilyich's light bulb on the ceiling. No refrigerator, no normal beds, no linen, no dishes - nothing! The toilet, however, is in the house. And water. Well... We decided to take the house. On the good side, my grandfather had a beautiful garden - with pears, apple trees and cherries. How great it will be for Dina to play there! - we thought and decided to improve this hole.

Well, we got down to business: we bought wallpaper and paint, new linoleum, a new stove, and took out a refrigerator on credit. They glued it, whitewashed it, laid it. Washed and dried. We bought a cheap chandelier, a couple of pots and pans, a tea set and dinner plates. Curtains and two sofas: a small one for the girl, a larger one for us. There was still a TV and a desk - for me and Diana. Well, and the wardrobe. But there was no longer enough money, so they decided to wait with the wardrobe and table. It's summer, it's the holidays, and we'll buy it by fall!

I brought cleanliness and comfort. Oh, with what pleasure I did this! I hung pictures in Diana’s room, sewed colored lace to the curtains, and placed a rug with pussycats by her sofa. In a word, I tried very hard. And she did it with all her heart and soul! She built Valentin and I’s house – our common and first house. A home for our family.

I told Baba Mota that I would move out at the end of August - just when we had finished our renovations and settled in. She cried, grieved and asked to visit her. One day, at the market, I caught the eye of an elderly and unfamiliar woman looking at me. She looked carefully, warily and turned away. I glanced at her and also turned away. And only after a couple of minutes I realized: this woman is Diana’s grandmother and Valentin’s mother-in-law. That's who studied me so carefully! I remembered that she looked unkindly, with narrowed eyes. However, one can understand her: her granddaughter now has a stepmother. And no one knows what will come of this.

Even me, to be honest... Still, I was a little afraid... Yes, a little bit! I WAS AFRAID! And in general, for a long time I was afraid of everything - any relationship. She was afraid of a good attitude towards me - a not very beautiful, poor, lonely, once abandoned woman. Can I be loved? Or so - to fall in love? And all my terrible complexes, “gifted” by Polina Sergeevna and my ex-husband? So, there is a wormhole in me? No, not a wormhole - a huge and fat worm living deep inside me. And this worm is obvious! Dear Polina Sergeevna was the first to notice him. Well, her follower, so to speak, is mine ex-husband Dimka. They saw weakness - first in a little girl, and then in an adult girl. Found. And we decided to stay away.

And he, Valentin? Didn't notice? Or haven't noticed yet? So everything is ahead?

God, how scary... How scared and bad I felt...

And I began to fear myself again...

I tried to dissuade myself. I convinced myself. She looked at me in the mirror and whispered that I was a sweet and pleasant woman. I am pretty. I have a good face, a nice smile and deep eyes. That's what my favorite teacher said. In the end, I didn’t drink myself to death, I didn’t give up. I pulled myself out of a deep and stinking hole. She survived, raked away a pile of stones under which she was almost buried. I crawled away, caught my breath and - I live again! I am alive and ready for happiness! And in the end, I didn’t hurt anyone.

By mid-August we finally moved in together. Oh, how incredibly happy I was! I woke up very early, closed my eyes from the morning sun hitting the small window, and carefully touched Valentin’s shoulder with my lips. And after inhaling his aroma (the divine aroma of my beloved’s body!), I carefully got out of bed - God forbid I wake him up! - and sneaked into the kitchen.

She put the kettle on, jumped out into the garden - barefoot, in the dew, a little cool, ticklish and very pleasant - picked up pink-cheeked apples from the wet ground and ran back.

Quickly, very quickly, I mixed the pancake dough in a bowl - liquid, like sour cream. I crushed pieces of apples into it and put a frying pan on the fire. The fritters sizzled, bubbled, blushed - and the sweet aroma of shtrief and baked dough floated through the kitchenette.

The kettle was boiling, and there was already a pile of pancakes in the bowl. I ran to Dina and sat on the edge of her ottoman. I blew on her eyelashes, and they, long and thick, shuddered and began to tremble. And my girl smiled at me!

Having woken up Dina, I went to our room and woke up my beloved. Without opening his eyes, he grabbed my hands and tried to “carry me away.” I laughed, of course, broke out and tsked:

Quiet! Have you gone crazy? She's already up!

Then he sighed, opened his eyes and... smiled!

WITH Good morning, darling!

Valentin spoke such ordinary and normal words that would hardly have surprised a normal woman. But to me... they didn’t just surprise me - they... chained me, paralyzed me. I froze, froze and took my breath away. I was afraid to give myself away, to be discovered. Taking a deep breath, I put a stern look on my face and shook my finger: “If you’re late, you won’t see breakfast!”

And then she jumped out the door to catch her breath. Recover.

Then we had breakfast, talked, discussed business and plans - everything, like in an ordinary family. In a family where there is trust and love.

Valentin was getting ready for work, and I was tying his tie. I learned this wisdom from pictures in the magazine “Rabotnitsa”. True, not immediately. But we are learning everything gradually. And that includes being happy.

Valentin went to work, and I got down to household chores: lunch, cleaning, etc. Dina was playing in the garden - it was vacation. And then I ran to work. To school. The end of August, all the teachers are already in place - preparing for the school year. I sometimes took Dina with me. And sometimes she took me to my grandmother’s. I didn’t go into the house - and I wasn’t invited. The old woman, seeing Dina, crawled out onto the porch and showed with all her appearance that she did not notice me. Well, never mind! I don't give a damn about someone else's old woman. Who is she to me? My husband's ex-mother-in-law?

However, he was not my husband yet. Wasn't there according to documents. And so - yes, of course! We have long considered ourselves husband and wife. I don't care about everything else! For stamps in my passport, for weddings - I’m not a girl! And by the way, I already showed off in a white dress.

I didn’t walk then - I flew. It seemed to me that my legs became light and obedient. Hair became manageable. My whole body served me and made me happy - elastic, light, pliable and... desirable. I felt this every night.

All this lasted three months. Exactly three months. Just three months. For three months I baked pancakes, made pies, twisted jars of compotes for the winter - Dina loved sweet compote. For three months I ironed shirts and trousers, dancing with the hot iron and singing in a low voice. I washed floors for three months and my lower back never hurt. For three months I combed my girl’s hair and braided her braids - French, fishtail and spindle. For three months I, the happiest one, fell asleep in the arms of my beloved man and woke up happy again...

Three months. Just three months... Or not? Three months?! Wow! Three whole months? Three months of absolute happiness? Isn't that a lot? For her? For this... Wretched? With a worm inside? Huge, like a tapeworm!..

In mid-November, I was already planning for the New Year. Happy New Year with your family! I even wanted to go to the capital and buy gifts for my loved ones: watches and shirts for Valentine. Dina - new blouses and winter boots. I saved up some money. And of course, all sorts of goodies! For example, get smoked sausage and red caviar to the table. Salted fish and good sweets. Bring a huge cake! But the cake will definitely spoil... I'll bake it myself! Oranges - of course! Tangerines, bananas - everything! Everything that will please my dear and loved ones.

And we definitely need to decorate our house - our first, joint, family home. Gold foil, bright toys, silver rain, multi-colored tinsel, a Christmas tree - of course, a Christmas tree! I’ve never had a Christmas tree... But how I wanted it! No, once I did - I persuaded a woman to cut down a little beauty in the forest. But we didn’t have any toys...at all. I once made the toys myself: I wrapped leftover plasticine in old candy wrappers (I saved them!). I cut some rabbits and snow maidens from cotton wool. She made figures of animals from colored paper. And from white - snowflakes. It was all so pitiful and so ugly that, after “decorating” my Christmas tree, I burst into tears...

No, for Diana, my Diana, everything will be different! Because my Dina is a princess! I also thought through the New Year's holiday table - I looked for recipes in magazines, bought food. I really wanted to surprise my dear and loved ones. How I... dreamed! How delicious, elegant, beautiful everything will be... Our first holiday! One I've never had before.

In mid-November, Valentin came home from work upset. Very upset. He remained silent, refused to have dinner and just as silently went to bed. I didn't ask any questions. I know from myself: I don’t always want to tell. Let him be silent, change his mind, and let his mind wander. And then... how it turns out. If he wants, he will share, but if he doesn’t want to... I won’t be offended. I thought: there’s something at work. What else could it be? Nothing else came to my mind. The naive fool is another confirmation of this.

This went on for almost a week. I endured it bravely and still didn’t ask questions. We barely communicated - just a few words about Dina. That's all.

The mathematician Zoechka opened my eyes. She asked point blank during recess:

How's yours doing? Worries?

I froze. A stranger, a complete stranger, knows more than me? Native wife?

In what sense? - I asked casually. - Ahh... because of work?

What job? - She stared at me point-blank. - What does work have to do with it? Don't you know that Lariska is back?

I felt my hands freeze and my feet instantly root to the floor, as if they had been nailed down.

Lariska? - I asked again. - What Lariska?

Zoechka made a grimace and shrugged her shoulder:

Ordinary! Dean's mother! I don't know the details. I only know that they ran away with that guy - well, from Moscow. Did he leave her or something... I don’t know for sure. Well, the prodigal daughter has returned! And he asks to come back - I mean, to the family. To Valka and daughter. What a bitch, huh? Yes, she has always been a bitch before! I went to the same school with her. She was a reptile... Be healthy!

I nodded automatically and slowly walked down the corridor, clutching the window sill with my hand. I was afraid of falling. My head started spinning and I pressed myself against the wall.

What about yours? - Zoya shouted after him.

I didn't turn around.

Valentin came late again. I was already lying in bed and looking at the ceiling. I turned off the light.

He came in, slowly undressed and lay down next to her. Near - but not with me. And I felt it.

Don't you want to say anything? - I asked hoarsely, not recognizing my voice.

Valentin did not answer. Turned his back.

In the morning, hurrying to work, I casually threw to him:

Val! Think about it! I mean, until the evening. Well, what’s in your head... What are you thinking about? And we'll talk in the evening. Do you agree?

Valentin, without raising his eyes, only nodded in response.

I went outside and suffocated. He didn't interrupt me. He didn't look at me in surprise. He didn’t ask: “What are you talking about, Lida? What do I need to understand?

He didn’t raise his eyebrows, didn’t laugh, didn’t hug me...

I was walking down the street and cold wind unceremoniously and intrusively crawling under my coat, under my scarf, into my sleeves.

In the middle of the road, a biting and sharp rain began to fall, blurring my painted eyelashes and mixing with my tears.

“That’s all,” I repeated to myself, “that’s all, Lida! It's over, right? Everything comes to an end!”

So I muttered until I reached the school building. There she took out a mirror and a handkerchief, wiped her face and entered the door.

Maybe I'm wrong? Maybe everything will change? Maybe... it was just my imagination? Did you imagine it? Everything will work out, right? He will never return to her! He's the same normal guy! Proud and sane. He will not be able to forgive the woman who betrayed not only him, but also them. common child? No, he's not an idiot after all! Not a wimp or a weakling! He will never forgive her! Never! Do you hear, Lida! Because this... this is impossible to forgive!

Or is it possible?.. Then it turns out that everything that we had... Everything that we managed to build... Our house, our first house... Our... child? A trip to Moscow, where it all happened? And our love... No, it can’t happen like that! She was there! It’s impossible to invent what we had.

What about New Year? - I suddenly thought. - What, he won’t be there either?

God, what am I thinking? About the holiday, about the New Year?

I was walking home and suddenly thought about Dina. She became slightly ill, caught a cold and asked her grandmother to get sick. I agreed. Unhealthy child and home alone all day? Restless. And grandma will give you tea with raspberries, bake pies, read a book...

So it turns out that... It’s not just grandma there? There’s also… her prodigal mother?

"God help me! Help me please!" - I whispered, approaching my house. “If only everything turned out wrong!”

There was silence in the house. Valentin was not there. I looked at my watch - yes, it’s too early. The thought flashed: go up to the entrance, watch for him and see where he goes. Although... of course, he will go where his daughter is now. She's sick. And, by the way, there will be nothing surprising in this.

I drank tea and went to bed. It seems that I also caught a slight cold - the weather was not kind to anyone. My head hurt badly and I wanted to sleep. Go to sleep to forget about this nightmare.

I woke up from hearing a noise. I quickly jumped up and rushed into the corridor.

Valentin stood in the corridor, holding an old suitcase in his hands.

When he saw me, he was confused. I also froze, staring at the suitcase.

What is this? - I asked with just my lips, almost not hearing myself. - What is this, do you hear? Answer!

Valentin lowered his head:

This is... her mother,” he said almost silently. - Understand, birth mother! How can you not understand?!

Valentin took a step towards the door, and then I screamed:

Understand? What should I understand? Why are you leaving me? Why are you rushing towards her? At the first call? To the one who betrayed you? Both you and Dean? Do you forgive her everything? Are you saying that she is the mother? And then who am I? No, you answer! Who am I to you and Dina? And you still dare to reproach me for not understanding something?

I don't remember well what happened then. Very bad. I remember - I think I remember - that he asked me to shut up. He asked me to understand and forgive. He asked me to shut up - I was probably screaming a lot. He asked, but I kept screaming. Then he took a step towards the door, and I fell to the floor and grabbed his legs. “I won’t let you in! - I shouted. “I won’t let you in, do you hear?”

I remember his last phrase: “Lord, what are you allowing yourself to do? I didn’t expect this... And even from you! Where is your dignity, Lida?

I think I lost consciousness. I woke up on the floor, in the same place where I grabbed his legs - at the threshold.

Dignity? What is this thing? And what is it eaten with, is it a virtue?

Here I am... I don't know...

I don't remember those days well. I remember that sometimes I opened my eyes and saw how day gave way to night. And the night gives way to the day. Near the bed I found a glass with rotten water- Grandfather Anton probably brought it. He also placed a bucket next to my bed.

Sometimes, through the veil of sleep or oblivion, it seemed to me that I could hear someone’s breathing and smell the old smell of strong tobacco. It was probably him too, my master. I remember that he patted me on the shoulder and stroked my head. Or so it seemed to me...

I woke up - or came to my senses - when I heard the voice of Grandma Moti, she stood next to me and scolded Grandfather Anton: why didn’t he, the old donkey, call her earlier? Waited for the girl to die?

Baba Motya groaned for a long time, wailed, groaned, tried to lift me up and give me sweet tea, but the tea flowed down my chin, poured down the collar of my shirt, and I cried quietly, like a sick and tired child.

Then everything calmed down, and I fell asleep again - as if I had fallen into my own underworld. To your purgatory, to your hell.

Then I was awakened by someone else's voice and a strange, pungent smell - I woke up and woke up. A man in a white robe was holding cotton wool with some liquid to my face. From the smell I realized it was ammonia. Then they lifted me out of bed and put me on a cold oilcloth stretcher that smelled of death and pain. In general, at that time I perceived all smells very keenly - all these sensations tripled and deprived me of peace. I cried all the time and held my nose.

I remember that they put me in the car, and it drove quickly, in a hurry, mercilessly shaking me on potholes and bumps, and I again roared and begged to let me go.

Where? - a man in a white robe leaned over me.

And I cried even harder because I couldn’t answer this question.

Of course, they took me to the hospital. The chamber was long, endless, and in the distance a window shone, curtained with snow-white gauze. There was a needle sticking out of my hand and a hose running through an IV. I wanted to turn over to the other side, but I didn’t dare. “Why,” I often thought later, “why was I afraid that the needle would break out of the vein and I would no longer exist?”

So I was still holding on to this hateful life? Howled like a wounded wolf and grabbed the sharp edges of my abyss with broken claws? Although what kind of wolf am I there? I am a shabby and helpless, toothless, exhausted and tattered jackal, barking emptyly around and causing only disgust and pity.

No one is even afraid of me - because I am pathetic and funny. And disgusting to everyone around her.

I don’t remember how long I stayed in the hospital. I remember that Grandma Motya came to me and tried to feed me liquid soup, but I turned away and shook my head - the soup smelled too! How? Yes, soup, what else! Regular chicken soup! But this smell was also disgusting to me.

I remember that they fed me through a tube, and I struggled and tried to hit my sister. But I had no strength at all, and I just weakly waved my arms. And my sister laughed at first, and then got angry and hit me on the hand.

The historian Nina Ignatievna also came, sat opposite me and peered into my face with interest. I turned away. She left, cheering me goodbye, and the room smelled sharply of oranges.

I even wanted to eat a slice, but as soon as I swallowed it, I immediately vomited.

After two weeks they decided to discharge me. I heard the doctor telling Grandma Mota that I needed to tell my relatives. Grandma Motya cried and answered that there was no one to tell - she had no relatives, doctor! There was a husband, and he also ran away. She is the only one in the whole wide world!

The doctor thought and said:

Well... I don't know! Then report it to work, or what? She's a teacher, isn't she? I'm not wrong? Let them come up with something. Well, for example... - he fell silent - they will register her in a boarding school... for the mentally ill.

I became so scared that I closed my eyes tightly and began to fervently ask God, simply begging for him to take me away as soon as possible.

A couple of days later, it was not the Lord who took me, but Grandma Motya. She hired an old, broken-down car, they put me in the back seat - like something lifeless - and drove me to her. Grandfather Anton was waiting for us at the house, and they all together, with the driver and Motya, laid me on an old blanket and dragged me into the house.

It was already cold outside, and I saw that there was already snow lying - white, fluffy, clean. “It sparkled in the sun, played with edges of different shades and smelled deliciously of freshness and newness. This was the first smell that I was happy about.

They laid me on the sofa, on clean and fresh linens that also smelled of snow, and a soft pillow. And I moaned with pleasure.

Then she slept for a long time, and when she woke up, she asked for tea and bread - a small piece of white bread, spread with butter and sprinkled with sand. My grandmother made this for me when I was a child, and it was my favorite delicacy.

Grandma Motya clasped her hands, cackled joyfully, and a couple of minutes later brought me both tea and a small piece of bread. I carefully bit off the edge and felt the taste - sweet and unbearably familiar.

I sucked this crust and moaned with pleasure. I was blissful!

Motya fussed, pouring sweet tea into me from a spoon, and I, having swallowed my piece, blissfully closed my eyes and... fell asleep.

Through sleep - in my opinion, for the first time strong and calm - I heard Motino muttering:

That's it, daughter! Like this! Now we will get better! Let's go, where can we go? Will live! To spite them, the bastards!

Three days later, Motya took me out into the street, putting on me her old oversized felt boots, throwing on a scarf and a sheepskin coat. She sat me down on the bench and said:

Look! The world is here! Alive! And you too - alive! And if you’re alive, you have to live like that, Lidka!

I squinted - my eyes hurt - and looked at the bare apple trees, the fluffy Christmas tree by the porch, dusted with snow. I saw two bullfinches sitting on an old cherry tree. The bullfinches gleamed with their red breasts, chirped loudly and jumped from branch to branch.

I looked at these bullfinches for a long time until one of them broke loose and flew away. The second one - or the second one - became sad, perked up and rushed after him.

So gradually I came to my senses - for a long time, painfully gaining strength and trying to stay on this earth.

Sometimes a doctor came and listened to my heart and lungs, touched my forehead and looked into my eyes. I remember how he once sighed loudly and said that by spring I would certainly get better.

I felt somehow... not that I didn’t care... I understood that I had survived and didn’t ask for more death. But... the months, days and hours spread out, and I could not arrange them in an orderly row: winter, spring, summer?..

Time just passed, and I somehow lived... without plans, hopes and worries.

I didn’t think about my life - probably I just didn’t have the strength for it. Memory helpfully blocked the channels of memories, my misfortunes, troubles and insults. My body saved itself, and at the same time pitied me.

Every morning Grandma Motya covered me with a huge feather bed and opened the window. One day I heard the sound of drops on the windowsill and the singing of birds. “Here comes spring...” I thought. So I'll get better soon. That's what the doctor said. But he knows for sure.” This, I think, gave me strength, and I slowly began to dress myself, go to the toilet, and not to the bucket, and I began to go outside myself.

By the end of March, I began to help Mota with the housework - peeling potatoes, cutting cabbage into cabbage soup, making tea.

Once Motya said that my salary was brought to her by some woman from school. But she doesn’t let anyone in to see me - why look at someone else’s grief? What joy is there in this?

I nodded and didn’t ask anyone else: who came in or who was simply interested in my health...

At the beginning of May, Motya and I began to plant a vegetable garden - onions, radishes, sorrel and parsley. Towards the end of May, her son arrived and began digging soil for potatoes - as always, behind the house.

And then I heard their conversation. He muttered and scolded his mother.

How can? How long will you follow this psychic? What the hell do you want with this cripple? Who is she to you? Stranger! I didn’t sit with my grandchildren, but here... you sit with someone else’s woman and carry the potty for her! Hit her in the neck! Got it. So what if it’s a pity that she doesn’t have anyone? What do we care? Who is she to us, this Lidka? What do we know about her? Where is she from? Well, let him go to his village. Do you hear what I'm saying? So let it go! In a week, do you hear? And I’ll let tenants into the house! You understood?

Motya answered him something, but I didn’t really hear what. She was probably justified. And he threw down the shovel and spat:

Mother, do you understand me? I give it two weeks! Understood?

I heard the gate slam and the sound of a motor.

“We have to leave,” I thought, “I have to pack up and leave. Otherwise, this ghoul will kill my grandmother from the world.”

I got up, opened the closet and started throwing my things into the suitcase.

Grandma Motya came in, saw this picture and snatched the suitcase from me.

Just sit down! - she said sternly. - Look, I'm ready! Just think... he spoke! The house is mine! And I spit on that fool! “And she added bitterly: “He’s just like his father.” Such a cruel bastard...

I sat down on the bed and started crying. I'm alone again. Why did I survive, Lord? Why did you leave me this life? So that I can continue to suffer like this? To suffer again?

But why? Why do others have parents? Children, husbands? Relatives - near and far? Friends and neighbors?

That's just me - no one! You are the one to blame? Or has God made me unhappy? There are happy and unhappy people in the world, right?

That's right, there is. Who got what. What ticket and what fate. I'm like this.

And why? Yes, no one will answer.

And yet I decided to stay. Because I understood: I can’t go to the village. To go somewhere - I simply do not have the strength for such feats, I am not capable of such things now - I understood that. So, tinkering in the kitchen or in the garden - yes. But to pack up and go away and start a new life there ... No, I can’t yet. I count my strength. And this ghoul will be killed! Nothing, it will wait! I'll just get stronger and feel a little better...

I quit, pay off, say goodbye. Really - with whom? With your colleagues? To be looked at me like a stuffed animal from the Kunstkamera? “Oh, alive? Are they wearing their legs? Look, she survived! .. That's tenacious!”

Of course I'll leave here. I'll run away as soon as I can. The country is big! I’ll join somewhere, I’ll moor at some pier, I’ll moor at the shore.

I’ll rent a corner again, get a job, settle down. I'll get hooked - I'm not used to it! I’ll go further away - perhaps to Siberia, to Altai. Or to the Far East. I’ll cross out my old life, burn the draft and - with white sheet, all over again. To spite you all, hear! Is it for you to live, but for me to go to the next world? Yeah, can't wait! It's a lot of honor for you!

After this decision I felt better. I sent Motya’s son away and told him that I would leave no earlier than the end of August - it was convenient for me.

And he just grunted in response, said that I was a bitch and that I deserved everything, and, slamming the gate, drove off, stinking of the exhaust of his scooter.

I almost calmed down and began to wait for August. My strength increased every day - I just don’t know if I was happy about it...

I didn’t go into the city - I was afraid to meet someone. One day they came home from work, and Grandma Motya didn’t let me in again, she sternly said that I was resting and there was no point in wandering around here!

Colleagues brought a package: a jar of juice, a bottle of Cahors to strengthen strength and a bag of lemons - a rarity in our area.

I was afraid of leaving - I waited and was afraid. Where will I go? Which regions? It would be possible to enlist in the North and save some money there, but... I still had very little strength, and I understood that I was not a worker.

At night I looked at the map of Russia and... thought.

One day I told Mota that I was going to leave. She cried, but I also saw relief in her eyes. Apparently, her son was annoying her. Motya said that she had saved me some money - from what they brought from my work. “Well,” I thought, “so so be it: I already have the money for the ticket... I just have to figure out where I’ll go. Think over the route. Or maybe head south? It will be easier to survive in warmer climes. On the sea!"

Having decided to do just that, I perked up. Taganrog, the hometown of my beloved Chekhov, was spinning in my head. All is decided! In a couple of weeks I’ll take a ticket and go!

And at the end of July, Grandma Motya was admitted to the hospital. The pressure jumped, and my poor Motya fell right in the garden. No wonder - she was tired of me, of course.

The ambulance took her to our hospital, and I was left alone.

The next day I went to Mota. I was scared - after all, it was my first appearance in the world, as they say.

I walked slowly, carefully, looking around every now and then.

Mota, thank God, was better, and she was very happy with me. I fed her, gave her something to drink and promised that I would come again tomorrow.

But the Ghoul, her “dear” son, did not appear with his mother.

I quickly walked home, my mood was high. And I couldn’t even imagine what kind of “surprise” was waiting for me. What a test awaits me again. Apparently, someone thought that I was not enough...

Entering the yard, I was dumbfounded: my things were scattered everywhere. My pathetic blouses, skirts and dresses were lying right on the ground. There were sandals and boots lying around. It had rained the day before and the ground was sticky and wet. And all my poor things, bought with such difficulty, were not just smeared with greasy mud, they were trampled into it. There was also a suitcase lying by the porch, its battered mouth open. I couldn't move. The thieves? Someone broke into the house and... Started a row? Who? The local drunkards don’t mess around with old women - they understand that there’s nothing to take from them. Teenagers drinking cheap port? Lord, why do it like this? Who needed to trample not only me and my whole life, but also my pathetic rags? Humiliate me even more, even more painfully?

I didn’t notice how endless tears were flowing down my face. And at that moment the Ghoul appeared on the porch - Mitka, Dmitry Akimovich, the beloved son of my grandmother Moti.

Satisfaction appeared on his angry and red muzzle:

Well? Have you come, you bastard? Come on! Gather your rags! And to the police, follow me! Why are you keeping silent? Do you hear that?

What have you done, you bastard? - I asked barely audibly. My voice sank and became hoarse. - Yes, I’ll call the police now! And you, you bastard, will be killed! For hooliganism! You creature!..

And he pulled out of his pocket a skinny wad of my salary money collected by Aunt Motya.

My money! From my sick leaves.

That's it! - He chuckled contentedly, putting the money into his pocket. - So you “sit down”, infection! The grandmother followed her like she followed her daughter - she took out the pots! And this creature robbed the old woman! I tidied up the funeral and hid it under my pillow! Mother saved all her life - for the cemetery and for the wake!

This is my money! - I said firmly. - Ask your mother - she will confirm!

Yeah, I ran away! I'll gather witnesses in a minute! And I’ll give you a bonus! Get out of here, you pest! If you don't want to meet with the cops! Get out, I said it!

I bent down to collect my things. And Motin’s son bent down and threw a suitcase at me. I sat down on the wet ground and... howled out loud. She howled like a wolf. I cursed fate and heaven, and this scum closed the door to the house and turned on the radio - at full power to drown out my screams.

Somehow I got up, threw what I could into my suitcase and slowly walked down the street. Where was I going? I didn't know. The head was empty - or rather, cast iron, stone, heavy. Not a single thought at all...

I walked along the outskirts, dragging my suitcase behind me, and cursed my fate. I then wished death on everyone: Dimka and Masha, Valentin and Larisa, this Ghoul, Lariska’s mother, who told the prodigal daughter about my happiness.

I hated everyone! And even Dean. She never came to me, she never remembered! Although... what should I take from the child? But then I hated her too, this unfortunate girl.

It was already completely dark outside, and it began to rain again. Somewhere in the distance lightning flashed, and lightning for a moment tore through the dark, inky sky. Thunder rumbled and everything became quiet again. I sat down on some bench and closed my eyes.

Then she lay down and probably fell asleep.

Woke up to cold and rain. I opened my suitcase to find something dry. But all the things were dirty, wet and stank of chicken droppings.

I looked around: I was sitting in some courtyard near a large house, looking at me with burning, bright windows. I saw lamps burning with a warm, homely light. Curtains on the windows, bluish light from TVs, silhouettes of people.

They were all at home - in their apartments. With my family. We had dinner, drank tea, watched TV and talked to each other.

And I sat alone, in the rain, wet and cold, with a suitcase of dirty things and dreaming of a hot shower, a glass of tea and a sandwich.

Isn't it strange and almost unrealizable dreams at the beginning of the twenty-first century? Not in the middle of nowhere, mind you - not at the end of the world, right? Not in the tundra, not in the desert, not in the crater of a volcano! Yes, they won’t believe you if you tell anyone, so that the person has nowhere to go. So that he would have no one - no one in the whole wide world!

Yes, everything is clear! Come to me! My house is two steps away, around the corner. Get up! Come on, Lydia Andreevna! Otherwise, you will be completely stuck here!

I got down from the wet bench, took my suitcase and, sobbing loudly, dragged myself behind her.

We entered the entrance, and it smelled warm and cozy, normal life. The entrance was wide, bright and clean - unlike the usual entrances, the ones that I saw. There was a huge mirror on the wall, flowers in a floor vase, and a red carpet near the elevator doors.

The elevator stopped on the fifth floor, and Dina Mikhailovna began looking in her purse for a bunch of keys.

Finally the door was unlocked and we went into the apartment. She turned on the light and I froze.

The huge hall was illuminated by a bright crystal chandelier. There was a thick pile carpet on the floor. A bow-legged sofa upholstered in pink silk and a small table with bent legs, on which stood a telephone, were huddled against the wall.

Don't waste your time! Otherwise - a cold!

Dina Mikhailovna came out, and I quickly climbed into the bath.

She lay there with her eyes closed. Blissful? No. This state could not be with me in those minutes. I was simply warming up - my numb legs, icy hands and my whole body were thawing - softening, like a sourdough on the stove. And I didn’t feel myself at all. It was as if all my strength, all my life had flowed out of me...

“I wish I could fall asleep and not wake up,” I thought and regretted that they wouldn’t let me do this.

And indeed, Dina Mikhailovna entered without knocking - about ten minutes later, looked at me sternly and also sternly ordered me to get out.

You'll die! - she said a strange word and threw a terry robe onto the chair. And I remembered how my grandmother told me the same thing when I didn’t want to leave the bathhouse: “Come on, Lidka! Get out! Otherwise you’ll die!”

I followed her. I really wanted to sleep, and Dina Mikhailovna, barely noticing this, immediately got up and called me to follow her:

Let's go, Lidia Andreevna! It's time for you... to rest! Thank God tomorrow is Sunday! And you don't have to go to work. So you and I will get some sleep - for your dear soul!

Dina Mikhailovna laid out the linen for me, and I immediately collapsed on the sofa in a small and cozy room - most likely an office.

It seems that I fell asleep instantly, having only managed to weakly shout after the hostess:

Thank you, Dina Mikhailovna! Thanks a lot!

But it seems she didn't hear me. Or I didn't hear her answer.

I was already fast asleep.

The next morning - and it was a happy morning - I slept and rested - for several minutes I lay on the sofa and looked around the room where I had to spend the night. Dark, solid wallpaper with silver monograms, a heavy chandelier with colored pendants, paintings on the walls, tall vases, a desk with wide legs - all this spoke of wealth and taste. There was enough of both here. Bed sheets- thin, delicate, silky - it was pleasant to the touch and gave the feeling of a royal bed.

She told me about my lonely holidays - birthdays, the First of September and the New Year.

About her handkerchief, which I stole to... sniff! I thought he smelled like her! And she did not admit to her theft - she kept it under her pillow and pressed it to her face at night. And in the morning - so that my cunning woman would not find it - I hid it in my panties or behind the wall.

Then I told Dina about Zakhar Ilyich - that he was the closest to me and dear person. No, of course, I loved my grandmother! But he is my teacher... Swallowing tears and remembering him, I heard his smell - cheap cigarettes, rubber boots and for some reason wood glue.

Then I talked about the death of the woman, about the arrival of Polina Sergeevna and the final collapse of my hopes - because then I was simply sure that she would finally take me. He will take him with him to Moscow, and we will be together. Forever already! Then I still loved her... However, no, I already hated her, but still I still loved...

I talked and talked - without stopping or respite, but Dina was silent and only nodded sometimes, pouring me coffee.

Finally I fell silent, and she told me:

Do you know, Lidia Andreevna! Life almost always sucks! Do you think this only happens to you? - She grinned. - So, my dear, you are mistaken! Life is always a zone of turbulence! It shakes you around, throws you into holes, throws you out. It throws it a little to the surface - and again down, it throws again. And you... - Dina fell silent for a moment, - you are climbing again, again suffocating, and once again you think that you can’t stand it anymore...

And suddenly - exhale again! Let go again! You take in more air and it seems to you that now that’s it! It's all over. I mean, the bad thing is over. And the next day you wake up with this confidence - you breathe, you live. Cleaning your feathers. You look around. And you believe again! You are again READY to believe that everything bad, scary, black, disgusting and sick is already behind you! And now you will only be happy!

And when she, Dina, turned sixteen, her mother died. So suddenly and quickly that no one believed it. A terrible illness burned her down - literally within a month. My grandmother also left behind - she couldn’t survive death. only daughter. My brother was thirteen then. She, Dina, entered college and soon went to the dormitory - her father brought a woman to the house. No, she understood everything! He died then... But so quickly? Without waiting out the mourning year?

“My brother needs a mother,” the father explained. It was painful to come to my home apartment. That woman managed everything like a mistress. And she even wore her mother’s things. It was unbearable to watch.

But she did not offend her brother, she treated her father tolerably, and the house was in order and cleanliness. But this was no longer their home. The house where she grew up and was happy.

Dina met her future husband there, in the hostel - he was a visitor. The “future” guy was prominent, active and noisy - she didn’t like those, but ... Signs of attention and care bribed her. In addition, she was so lonely then ... After some time, he, a joker and a joker, the soul of the company and "a man with a great future" - that's what everyone called him, - made her an offer.

Dina didn’t sleep for a couple of nights, thinking. I didn’t understand whether she loved him or not. What is love? For example, mother and father - there was love there, right? Yes what! Everyone saw it! And... five months after the death of his beloved wife? A strange woman on her bed and in her coat? How is that? Is it also love?

Dina doubted it. I love it, I don’t love it... No, he’s a good guy! This one will definitely make it through! He does not care a straw. It won't be scary with him. He will protect her and support her. He's definitely not a nurse! So... Should we go?..

And Dina said yes. The wedding was modest, student. For the holidays they went to his parents, in a small town on Far East. Wonderful people accepted her as my own daughter. Together we made dumplings, went mushroom hunting, and swam in the river. Everything was amazing!

From there Dina arrived pregnant... We were happy, of course! She was worried: how is it going and what? There is no apartment, no money and no help either ... And he reassured: “We will have everything - a house, a car, and money! Just love me, do you hear?” - he said this, as if he didn’t completely believe her. As if sensing something...

And she stroked her still very tiny belly (nothing is visible yet, three months ... funny!), She stood at the mirror in profile, stuck it out, stroked it again and sighed heavily: “Yes, I love, I love! And why don’t you believe?”

Frosts began in November. And then they were replaced by a thaw. Well, there are frosts behind it again. The tummy was already decent, round - they said: “like a girl.”

She fell near the subway. I was just on my way to visit my brother. That's where the ambulance took her, bleeding. She returned fifteen days later. Alone, without a child. She sat down on the bed and, rocking and howling, sat there for exactly three days and three nights. He could do nothing: neither persuasion, nor persuasion, nor sound arguments helped. And then Dina fell ill. And she stayed there for another three months.

It would have remained there if it had not been for their departure. He made the decision - she was not capable of anything then. And what was she interested in? Nothing at all.

He explained briefly: we need to change the situation. To leave here, where everything is just a reminder. There, in Leningrad, there is a new plant. Prospects. Immediately a good position. Salary. Housing. Yes, province! What did you want? Well, what if you build a career? And you will always find somewhere to work - with your profession!

But she didn’t care - the capital, the province... the North Pole... South Africa or Australia...

He collected things himself - she still hardly got up.

Well, let's go - what now?

So we came here, to this... - Dina paused, - hole.

Then we were both silent. I didn't ask questions. Only now did I understand why there was such melancholy in her eyes. Nothing succeeded. And the whole city also knew about his adventures. Poor, poor... poor, rich Dina Mikhailovna! A metropolitan girl, beautiful, smart... And just like that!..

I thought she wouldn't say anything more. And so everything is clear. But Dina started talking again. The pain splashed out of her like boiling water from a pan - gurgling, hissing as if on a hot stove.

Dina said that their relationship never improved. No, outwardly everything was not bad, but... After that story, they became strangers. Were they relatives? That's the question! He really wanted children, really. She honestly tried - no, they tried together. He got her vouchers on the dirt to endless sanatoriums. sent to the capital the best specialists. Regret nothing, nothing. But ... everything was in vain. Dina felt guilty. But what was her fault? Unclear. And this guilt drove her into a corner - further and deeper. He began to give in. At first slightly, then more and more. Endless trips to the baths, hunting, and fishing began. And there - drunkenness and girls. She was sure: and the girls! He came, pitiful and guilty, and tried to appease and “redeem.” I threw money away and bought trips abroad. And Dina cried and begged to stop.

He got angry, lost his temper, and then again promised and promised. And everything remained the same. They hardly spoke - well, like a husband and wife talk. They lived next door. Dina, of course, understood everything about his women - the city is small, everyone knows everything.

They went on vacation alone, and then, after a while, she found traces of his “romantic” stories - love letters, notes. They came across in the glove compartment of the car, in his desk, in his jacket, in his briefcase. One day I found a silk scarf and a bottle of perfume. There were scandals. But he seemed to be no longer afraid of anything. He didn’t make excuses, didn’t lie, and didn’t promise. He slammed the door and went to his office. And Dina, crushed by humiliation, did not sleep in her luxurious Italian bedroom with carved curls on the high back. Thought about death.

I understood one thing: either endure it or leave. That's just ... Where?

And then... Then this one appeared. Marina. And this is where hell began. She didn’t even live in L. - in the village. Ten kilometers from L. Skirt to navel, purple manicure, black shadows. How could he even? How could he pay attention to her? To this scarecrow, monster, unwashed slut? Where were his eyes, where? How could you even... lie with this girl?

Soon she gave birth. The final! The apotheosis of a wonderful story! The whole city laughed. Over it. And there is a boy, a son. Long awaited. No, somewhere she can understand - a child. But still…

So we live... - Dina concluded, - in complete fun! For a couple of days, on the weekend, he is there, and during the week here, at home. Great, right? He rents this apartment. Of course it does! Yes, there's a child there. But... why is that so? WHY HUMILIATE ME AND TRAMPLE ME SO? Was it humanly impossible? Divorce and leave. But it doesn’t go away! He doesn’t want to leave here, you understand? I say: “Go away! There’s a child there!”

And he replies: “This apartment was given to me, not to you!” And I’m not going anywhere from here!”

But I think it’s not just that! Not only in the apartment. He... he's afraid to get together with her. He understands everything. He's afraid to start a family with her. He understands what she is, this girl. And yet, he is so comfortable. It's clean, beautiful, fresh linen, full lunch. Everything is as he is used to. And there... there is a young and greedy body. Somersaults, steeplechase and acrobatic sketches. And another son. Of course, son. He carries suitcases of rags and toys for the boy. And the boy says “lodge” and “tubaret.”

And in general, he is not young. At his age, such a load! - Dina grinned. “I think,” she added, “if only... well, I was gone!” I would let him down! Oh, how I would let him down! After all, then he would have to marry this one! - Dina laughed and looked into my eyes: - What do you think, huh? Would you let me down?

I was embarrassed and just shrugged:

Who knows...

Dina nodded and continued with a sigh:

Yes... although... they are transparent, these men. And predictable! And all their actions... can be calculated down to the millimeter. Haven't you noticed? And yet... they are all terrible cowards!

I nodded, immediately remembering Dimka and Valentin. “Yes, terrible cowards. It's like that…"

Emboldened, I suddenly asked:

Forgive me... Why... didn’t you leave? Well, to Moscow? You are a Muscovite!

Muscovite... - Dina chuckled, - she was! I was a Muscovite! Once upon a time. And now... my brother and his family live in the apartment. Two children and one son-in-law. Everything is there. Well, am I still here? Which side? Sit on their heads? The brother looked after his father. Then for the stepmother. What do I have to do with it? The apartment is his! And where should I go? Where? This is my home. I built it like a children's construction set - decorated and furnished it. I love him. There's work here. Whatever one may say, here I am... a man. I have a reputation, a position. I don’t care what they say behind my back! And at school, I think... they respect me! Well, I hope... And then,” she smiled, “I always hated this L.... A hole, an outback. My worst nightmare! A nightmare with a capital letter. My tomb. And now... I’m even used to it! You won’t believe it!.. I was able to fall in love with its quiet streets, its sluggishness, slowness, provincialism. River, forest from the window. Cobblestone street. Temple on the mountain. I'm there... I'm there. A park on a cliff and a bench where I like to sit. In autumn I go mushroom hunting. - Oh, how I love this business! - and Dina smiled again. - I love it very much! Autumn forest, yellow leaves. It smells like earth and rain. Damp and humid. And I can breathe!.. So easily, so freely!

And you... - Dina suddenly asked me, - do you like the forest?

I nodded:

I love. And this city... I hate it! “I blurted out this phrase in one fell swoop and got scared: “Won’t he be offended?”

Dina laughed and waved her hand:

I understand this! Do you know how much I hated him? Oh, it’s hard to even convey! And now... no, I didn’t love it - I probably got used to it. It’s the power of habit again... and it’s ruining us. And age... Well, just imagine how old you are and how old I am. And there is no strength left... for change. Age, you know... is a strange thing! I’m already forty-nine... no strength to fight, no strength to express emotions. There's not even any left for hatred. It's all over.

And you, Lidochka,” that’s what Dina called me for the first time, “you need to run!” Hurry up and run! Get out of here! And forget this city and this one, yours... What's his name? Yes, but it doesn’t matter! Just run! I didn’t have time... So you are for me! Run quickly, I beg you! Otherwise, you will get bogged down in a swamp and will remain here. Believe me, I know. Do you think I didn't have any thoughts of running away? But you weren’t worthy... And why were you afraid? Was this about ten years ago? But she stayed... Probably, she still hoped, yes... And yet,” Dina paused, “I didn’t love him when I was young.” Well, I told you. And then...

We were still silent, and I saw such inescapable, such terrible sadness and pain in Diana’s eyes that I became scared.

So do you understand me? - She shook her head and smiled slightly: - Run!

Where, sir? I shrugged. - Where should I run? Back to the village? No I do not want. I don't want to go to this house, I can't. Where? - I repeated. - Again forward? Buy a ticket again, where there is enough money, and... So I don’t have any money... - Here I laughed bitterly. - There were pennies and those were taken away.

Dina looked me straight in the eyes and said firmly:

To Moscow, Lida! In the village you will disappear. You are smart and beautiful. To Moscow, Lidia Andreevna. Only to Moscow!

And to St. Petersburg? I asked, remembering Zakhar Ilyich.

Dina thought for a moment and shook her head.

No, Lida! That's where you... don't need to go. The city is beautiful, what can I say! Only sad very, very raw! It's like she's crying all the time. And what is it like to live in a museum? Yearning! And you... will cry! And Moscow is alive! And sometimes he smiles! Easier, of course. And yet alive! Not a museum, not a cathedral, not a pantheon. Just a city, that's all. City of opportunity, by the way! Go, Lida! And - go for it! Still strength and age. And then, it will be easier there - there are a lot of people! To this one, yours... Well, what's her name? To the Queen! She's alive, isn't she?

I looked at Dina in fear:

To... the Queen? And what does she have to do with it?

She? - Dina Mikhailovna grinned: - She’s here in front of everyone! Alive, old and probably lonely! Is that right? Well, hurry up! For now... there is an apartment! After all, she’s... well, kind of like a relative to you! So much is connected with her!.. Your whole life! Your only, so to speak, “relative”! This apartment should be yours! After all, the Queen, as you call her, has taken... a lot from you, right? Well, let him pay! Everyone pays, right? And this fee, believe me, is not so great! What about the state? It will break! So - go ahead! Think, Lida! And run quickly!

I was stunned into silence. I was confused, stunned... Me? By right? Yes, what stupidity! What does this have to do with me and the Queen? What does this have to do with the apartment? What does the state have to do with it? What does Moscow have to do with it? Where am I, and where is all of the above? And how can we... Well, cross paths? Coincidence, touching?

The next day she again became the same Dina Mikhailovna - the head teacher of the school and the wife of the plant director. Closed, strict, serious and inaccessible.

I told Dina Mikhailovna that I was leaving. And she didn’t even ask where - that’s character! A person devoid of curiosity. Or - respecting someone else's choice? She simply nodded and seemed to feel some kind of relief - that's understandable. We both felt awkward.

I was packing my things when Dina entered the office. She looked carefully and placed a beautiful travel bag on the chair.

You will feel more comfortable with it! - she said and left the room.

About ten minutes later she came in again - in her hand was a large package tightly stuffed with something.

Dina was clearly embarrassed. She cleared her throat and said hesitantly:

Excuse me, Linda! Here... things. Good things, believe me! I brought some things back from my trips. You... - she fell silent, - try not to be offended! I will be glad if you succeed! In my opinion, there is nothing offensive in this, eh, Lidiya Andreevna? There’s just absolutely nowhere to carry it all! I buy without measure, without my head - perhaps this is some kind of consolation, or what? Sublimation, yes... And then... where? I don’t have any friends, my brother’s wife is fat. For your niece, you see, this is “not cool”! And what to do with all this? Don't know! And we are the same size! That's how lucky I am!

I went into my yard and sat down on a bench. My father put together this bench for Baba Mani. Once upon a time there was a table where a woman sorted through vegetables, peeled potatoes, and pickled cucumbers. Of course, in the warm season. Sometimes we drank tea there. Nearby there is a gooseberry bush growing - prickly, dense. Without getting up from the table, I picked large, sweet and sour berries and threw them into tea. "Like candy - yes, bah?" I said.

And my grandmother nodded and sighed sadly.

Then the table rotted and fell over. Well, I took him out.

I sat on a shaky, rotten bench and was afraid to go inside, into my house. What was I afraid of? Memories?

Then I froze and finally found the courage.

The door did not open right away - it was swollen and damp. And immediately the smell of uninhabitedness hit me. Such cold, such coldness, such loneliness...

I squatted down in the hallway and burst into tears...

Everything is correct... An abandoned and lonely house, like a lonely and abandoned person, no one needs - it becomes empty and cold. Indifferent and touchy. And I felt just as lonely, cold and empty. We had no heart - only resentment and pain.

The house smelled of mice, and everywhere - on the floor, beds, table - mouse droppings lay thickly.

Tired and broken, I threw the blanket and pillow on the floor, put my bag under my head, covered myself with a woman’s quilted jacket and lay down on the bed. In the middle of the night I felt thirsty, but the water in the bucket in the kitchen had long since gone rotten and was covered with greenery - not water, but a swamp.

In the end, Dina is right! I can... try, or what? What if it works out, huh? What if everything works out? What if... Do I have the right to do this?

I went to Polina Sergeevna’s room, found a couple of letters in her box, a broken gold watch - a gift from the Queen - and walked away.

Then it seemed to me that forever.

Having locked the house, I quickly walked to the bus stop. My decision was firm: to Moscow!

We'll see what happens there! Stop being a nurse, Lida! Stop hoping for justice! Stop waiting for gifts from life. Stop believing that everything is in the hands of fate. Your destiny is you! Your character, drive and confidence. Only you, and no one else will help you. Stop sulking and being offended! Now you decide everything! And your whole life is in your hands. And let those who are to blame answer... Who ruined your life. Let them take a sip too...

My determination gave me strength.

Someone called out to me on the way, but I didn’t turn around, I just increased my pace. There was no one at the stop, thank God. After waiting for the bus, I sat down by the window and set off for a new life.

At the stop, I ran into the buffet, grabbed a glass of coffee, two sandwiches and a sweet bun. And now she ate it all with pleasure, washing it down with hot, sweet coffee and... smiled.

At that moment I was sure that I would succeed!

Maria Metlitskaya

You are my darling

My dear!Take me with you!There in the distant land I'll be your wife. My darling. I would take you.But there, in a distant land,I have a wife.My dear!Take me with you!There, in a distant land,I'll be your sister.My darling! I would take you.But there, in a distant land,I have a sister.My dear!Take me with you!There, in a distant land, I'll be a stranger to you. My darling! I would take you!But there, in a distant land,I don't need you, stranger!

There is, of course, a concierge at the entrance. Or the doorman?..

No, still a concierge. The doorman with a beard, braid and an important cap is almost an admiral. And here is grandma. An ordinary grandmother who is entrusted with power.

People like her usually have a blast—bugs on whom something depends!

Anything, anywhere! Don’t worry - they, these “aunts in slippers”, won’t miss theirs! And yet, they won’t let you through. Not yours.

But I got in the way...

I answer. I dull my eyes, as expected. Well, since I didn’t recognize her as “one of my own”, I’ll be a good girl and a modest person.

Didn't pass for mine. Which, however, is understandable - these law enforcement officers have a diamond in their eyes! That's where we stand.

And rightly so, yes! He understands.

- And you, forgive her... who will you be?

- I? – I ask again with a stupid “May Day” smile. - I am related to her! Her daughter. Well... sisters!

- Mmm... sisters?

The concierge is discouraged and completely confused. Doesn't know what to do.

“Well,” I advise, “call her, Lydia Nikolaevna!” She will confirm!

“Okay,” the concierge waves her hand, “come in, whatever!” – And he swallows his tea loudly.

But there they warn such asses not to trust. Do not miss. Call security. Don't open the doors! There are now even more swindler aunts than men.

The bell is also “from there” - copper or brass. Shabby.

I exhale and... I press. The chime of the bell is gentle and melodic. Not alarming at all. Modern ones ring so hard that you shudder and your heart drops.

- Who? – after about five minutes a cautious and quiet voice is heard outside the door.

Well done! He doesn’t tear the door open, he’s interested first.

“Lidiya Nikolaevna,” I bleat like a sheep, “it’s me, Lida!” Lida Kanavina! Your Polina's daughter! From Lokshinka! I wrote to you...

Oh, how simple it is! They won’t open it for you, that’s all. They just WILL NOT OPEN IT FOR YOU.

But - don't panic! The lock clicks, the door chain rattles.

And now the door is open. The only question is – where?

Yes to a new life! Lida, go ahead! And don't be shy! You will succeed!

I close my eyes and look at the floor. Then I lift them up - light, clean, blue. Without a shadow, so to speak...

“Well...,” she drawls hesitantly, “come in.”

With great doubt, as they say, about the correctness of my decision.

But the first step has already been taken, and I pass. I entered. Into the Holy of Holies... I was admitted! So far “one - zero”, Lida. Well done!

In the hallway (huge, like a dance floor in a club) I undress. I hang up my coat and evenly adjust my boots, as we say, at the threshold. I can’t look at the walls with my eyes - I’m well-mannered. I don't make big eyes. And not because I saw it all - where should I? But because she is modest. Mom raised me that way.

Lydia Nikolaevna sighs heavily and makes a regal gesture. Her hand is very thin, the palm is narrow, speckled with pigment spots, but with a manicure. What about a star!

The kitchen is also impressive in size. Sixteen meters, no less. Or even all eighteen! Almost like my home. But the dirt is utter! The sun mercilessly exposed all the ins and outs of both the housewife and the kitchen.

Okay, kitchen - dust, grease and soot on the ceiling and wall. But she! It’s somehow still in the darkness of the corridor... And here, in the light...

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My darling full version. Maria Metlitskaya: My dear. You are my darling

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