- Sergey Rosedkin -
		p r about z and
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BUZZING BAJ, MAY … Part The first 3. Natasha I P. 4	3. Natasha I Yes, this Natasha too is worthy memories! Well, first, I repeat, because was the first Natasha in my destiny. Somehow carried to me on Natashas and more on Flax, so it is necessary to me to number them (to title!), as empresses with whom for me, in effect, they also were-were — everyone in due time. Secondly, this Natasha, despite, we will tell so, knizhnost and childishness of our novel, remained in memory also because it was the first and hardly probable not last case in my life when I being absolutely in a sober kind have met and «the relation beginnings» the girl whom hardly knew, has just seen. In this plan I generally the unsociable person and mastodont. Practically all women with whom I fell in love, — I knew long time before: studied or worked with them together. For me acquaintance in the street or in public transport — only an imagination subject: you will see at times the beauty in a trolley bus, you stand from it nearby, slightly sweating from dreams, and you represent, as you will tell to it a catchword, she zasmeyotsja-will respond, you start talking, will communicate, then leave at a stop together, will go to it home and … It is necessary where the imagination can get! I repeat, in poddatom a condition I still could somewhere in the company or in a tavern poznakomitsja-converge with the beauty who has liked me, but in sober daily occurrence of spirit on it did not suffice. If it is fair, I envied (and now still I envy) to quick children, able to get acquainted with beauties straight off, not kompleksuja. There are after all in general in this plan unique persons. I personally knew a two-three. I remember Volodju with cheerful surname Mymrik with which together for the first time arrived once in university, veins in one room of a hostel. And appearance at it was a match for a surname — not so heroic: the snub-nosed low fellow with a hollow breast. But, My God you mine, that it got up with little girls and women — with any on what only the sight of the dark eyes has desired to put. It, for example, on a bet approached-came to any prohozhej to the girl in the street, and in five-ten minutes it went with it where he wanted, at all having forgotten about the affairs, liked or the husband … it is probable, this Volodja Mymrik (au if you are live — greetings, the friend!) possessed-owned hypnosis. But after all how much is guys who can come without any hypnosis to any beauty who has liked them and to be imposed on acquaintance. I cannot. And it is a pity. Well and so, with Natasha we were reduced by a case. She lived in Tuva, I — in Khakassia. In the summer 1969‑го each of us has gone to a way. I after 9‑го a class — to Ukraine on a visit to the uncle; it after 8‑го — in well-known pionerlager "artek". And in it, apparently, no hint of destiny is present (whether few people go to a way to one time and in one direction), but in that summer there was in Abakan unknown hitherto a flooding, any tracks were washed away, and the train "Abakan-Moscow" has gone kruzhnym by through Krasnoyarsk where in the car our reserved seat and have placed schoolboys from Tuva. And, besides, there was this Natasha not such the dazzling beauty, by no means, but, remember, at the first sight I have allocated it from group of the pioneers who have filled the car, heart at me is sweet and disturbing has squeezed in any presentiment. Though, possibly, it nevertheless was allocated already with that was more senior other little girls-fellow travellers, and the red tie on its white vest underlined already generated completely not pioneer breast even more strongly. I will add-will specify, that Natasha was, of course, Russian light-haired little girl, also the vein in Tuva simply was born. Here it "certainly" does not bear any chauvinistic shade, I simply establish the strange fact: in spite of the fact that I was born and have grown in the Asian Siberia and in my veins, judging by some raskosinke in eyes, wide cheekbones and swarthiness of a skin, the shred and chingishano-batyjskoj blood flows, — in women to me the Russian-European lines … are lovely and ljuby for some reason only Well and so, I went on lateral to a reserved seat below, Natasha (I already knew-has overheard her name) was arranged on the top shelf in the next section hardly obliquely from me and looked for some reason not in a window at flashing landscapes, and in pass for a seething carload life-vanity. Our sights continually perekreshchivalis-faced. It each time it is somehow inquisitive vsmatrivala on me the light clear eyes and in some bewilderment stirred up a magnificent bang. When the little girl, having slid off downwards, has escaped for a while to girl-friends in other compartment, the having dinner woman from the bottom shelf has fastidiously grumbled through not chewed chicken: — Well you will do! Shakes and shakes the patlami directly over a table … The husband confoundedly has given it up as a bad job: — Yes cease you! I this aunt fat am there and then direct and have begun to hate: as if native to me the person has offended! Undertook to boil and plans to build: first, as the devourer of chicken to besiege, and, secondly, as Natasha to warn, that it irritates the bottom neigbour … Naturally, all prozhekty, both first, and secondly, would remain at level of thoughts and dreams, if not sharp turn of events. In pass Natasha has seemed, has come nearer, but, instead of curtailing to itself, has passed by me to a conductor compartment, and I at all have noticed at once, that on a little table before me there was a small square of densely curtailed paper. Has seen-has found out, took, has bewildered developed and there and then me has dipped in heat: «Greetings! My name is Natasha. And you? Where you go?» I was developed, have looked — it indifferently stood at the titan, looked out of the window. I had enough rest of the mind which has been not captured in temperature to guess: she waits for the immediate answer. Only here in what kind? To approach to it and to start talking? Or to answer too in writing? After short, but rather vigorous fluctuation I have stopped on an epistolary variant, have pulled down the fibre suitcase from the third shelf, have found a writing-book, a pen, a shivering hand nakarjabal: «Greetings! I am Sergey. Meal through Moscow to Voroshilovgrad. And you where?» Has combined a note a small square, has again turned back and has expressively looked. "I" pionerochka there and then has defiled by, having seized on the move a note. Then has quickly flushed, as if the squirrel, on the place, has developed an epistle, has attentively studied, has looked at me, has smiled, took a writing-book and has begun to scribble the whole letter … Also has begun! To whom to tell — will not believe: three days we, being in one car in two metres from each other, scribbled with Natalia each other messages, have exhausted everyone on a thick writing-book, and only in front of the Moscow, hour for two when Natasha sat one below, I have dared, have risen, have approached, villages nearby and have muttered: «Greetings!» On it we also have got stuck. Taking it at once for a hand as has planned in good time, — I have there and then forgotten. And conversation for some reason was not glued. Before in letters-notes we already stirred about everything, confessed, joked, and here as troubles on us has attacked — we skukozhilis, have strained and fifteen while I have not muttered have stayed in awkward silence of minutes: «Well while, write, if that …», — and did not retire on the place. It, probably, also has played a fatal role subsequently when the destiny had been presented possibility to us with Natasha uvidetsja-communicate after almost two-year-old correspondence. It has sent the first letter to me already to Ukraine from "arteka", and we undertook to translate actively a paper and post envelopes, exchanging messages nearly each three days. Unfortunately, when I was going to after many years to marry, on the eve of wedding have touched all epistolary barchelor archive and have saved from it only a little bit of letters of my former girl-friends and liked — especially hot and me for whatever reasons expensive. Alas, all thick pack of messages of Natasha from Tuva has sunk into fire, and now I even regret, that have not left at least for history uniform. There were only a few its photos-portraits. More shortly, after two-year-old intensive correspondence (I already and with Galej "was with might and main liked", and to Tuva all continued to write-answer) Natasha has informed in the next letter that will be journey to Abakan such number, and we will have at last a possibility to meet and kiss. And I, most likely, remembering have strained in the car at personal contact, took, and, already having arrived in Abakan, have accepted on the sickly breast for bravery a portion of alcohol. And, as it happens, — has overdone-has gone too far. Fairly I speak, I do not remember and till now I do not know, as as was: there were we Natasha or not, whether she has taken offence at my condition "nestojanija" or that I at all was not in the appointed place, — I only have regained consciousness next day already at home, in the village, rumpled and the patient and after that she has not answered one my emotional message (and I of time three still wrote-made letters). Natashenka, the darling, excuse me obormota if still you remember! <<<(P. 3) (P. 5)>>>
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© Rosedkin Sergey Nikolaevich, 2001
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