- Sergey Rosedkin -
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	Meetings with this person The story I will be short. Speech not about me. I have got on this place, it seems to me, casually. Friends consider, that to me has carried: in thirty five years to become the head physician of hospital is a career. But if to me who has told when I studied in medinstitute, that I will begin to head sometime so-called «the yellow house», I only would burst out laughing. Approximately on the third week of my new job to me also has come on reception, it is persevering it achieving, Mihajlov E.G.'s patients-chronicles  It has entered, is polite and normal (I for some reason still expected from each patient of abnormalities), has greeted and under my invitation of villages. I have paid attention at once, that he stammers, painfully being confused. I therefore have noticed it, that madwomen usually are not able to hesitate. Rostochkom it and so did not leave, but what for diligently stooped, the person had thin and melancholy. Under the arm Mihajlov held a writing-book. It was rumpled for about a minute and eventually has painfully spoken: — V-V-here z-z-records... P-look... I was have tried to ask — that for records? About what? — But he persistently repeated: — P-P-P-look, p-then s-will tell... I have released it, have boiled to tea and, having taken seat more conveniently, was accepted to "records". Pisany they were nervous, badly legible handwriting. Some places have seemed to me not absolutely literary, but after all not the member of the Union of writers wrote it. Here they, these notes Mihajlova. * * * «I have gone to the first class in that autumn. There was on a court yard 1946 year, still all in not healed wounds. We lived then in the big village on the bank of Yenisei and consequently war communicated for me not with we howl planes, explosions of shells and fires... War are empty sleeves of the neighbour of the uncle of the Pasha and its convulsive smile from which will approach sometimes to us, to boys, and will ask: — Hear, children, blind to me, who polovchej, tsigarku... War is Anka-postwoman's shrivelled figure, its stumbling step, and terrible woman's howl behind a gate, whence it just left. War are a Russian cabbage soup from lebedy, nettles and more any fresh grass, every second feeling of hunger and when it seems, that the stomach already sticks to a backbone and seriously are afraid, that when it will definitively stick, it is necessary to tear off its fingers and will be sick. But the life prevailed also everyday pleasures erased in children's memory left behind. There has arrived at last from far Germany the father in the summer, and at once it became easier. The father was absolutely whole and safe, only slightly pulled a head. But same trifles, — he so spoke — an easy contusion. However, the father in five years has died, but it is other history. And then it seemed (or me now, after many years, it appears, that then seemed?), that will be now only very well and never anything bad. In school I in general as on most razbolshoj, razvesyolyj and razozhidaemyj the holiday has gone. Mother from ottsovoj soldier's blouses has sewed to me a jacket on which there were holes from fighting medals, than I extremely was proud. The father himself, has personally hung up to me through a shoulder the officer bag smelling as a skin, gunpowder and tobacco, and I thought myself not simply real man, and – the military commander. Whether there was I then the coward, do not know, but now I admit, that when for the third day of a school life to me razbaklazhanil a nose Vovka Fashist from 3rd, only the front soldier's blouse with holes has not allowed to endure it. Uh I also cut to it, svolochuge! Its Fascist knowingly branded — it has caught a gopher of times and is direct with live, the reptile, has torn off a skin. I at that time absolutely bare-bellied was, but till now I remember its fingers stained with blood, it oskalennyj a dribbling mouth and an open muzzle of the small animal who has choked tormently. The fascist was beaten for it by the senior children, and it went for a drive in feet and squealed, that they cook houses soup from gophers and if a skin with live to tear off soup navaristee turns out... On a main recess to us at the expense of collective farm gave out on a bread piece, it is transparent greased with the cow butter, and on the big mug liquid, but hot kissel. On kissel it was possible to blow zealously long, stretching cheeks to languor in predushchnyh hollows, and from it "dinner" proceeded is blissful tasty time. To teachers such ration too relied, they only ate separately from us, behind matte glasses of a teacher's room. Of that hesitated? Mum (it Would conduct 3) in the first put has beckoned me in a corner of buffet and wished to push to me the portion, but I, hardly shamefully not having begun to cry, have loudly and roughly refused: «CHyo I, golodnee all?» Poor mum has late understood the oversight and has perplexed turned back: in fragile silence of ten eyes looked at made injustice. Mum has hung a head, precisely guilty, and silently has left in a teacher's room. And I long still then tried to catch on myself suspicious and envious eye, but unless it was possible to explain, that, the word of honour, and alone from mum a crumb did not take — her appeared through through against the sun. And to guzzle it would be desirable. Not is, not to eat, not to have dinner, and — to guzzle. The devil only knows, like and the potato already young was, cucumbers, tomatoes, almost it is a lot of radish, bread every day fur-trees... Probably, has accumulated for war of this damned hunger in a stomach so many that now and meal falls it was difficult to flood it. On the second change when to kissel it was necessary to suffer still the whole-pretselyj lesson, Mitka the Back resolutely rubanul: — Ajda behind apples! And we have gone. A collective-farm garden kucherjavilsja it is direct opposite to school. Year has stood out fruitful on apples, and from windows our 1st "And" from the second floor the garden resembled an enormous scarf fantastic velikanshi, all in yellow stains "chaldona" and red "raneta", carelessly thrown in the middle of village. The garden has been surrounded by a two-metre deaf fence from not strugannyh zanozistyh gorbylej. The grandfather of the Trestle — native grandfather Vovka Fashista protected it day and night. I it, this grandfather of the Goat, for some reason always was rather afraid. Between a nose and a stomach all it has been closed by a monstrous gangster beard which was closed on cheeks with same pitch kosmami, and from all this kushchi hair dimly looked small, about a pea, eyes and was put out by a huge crimson fig porous nosishche. All he resembled that terrible gipsy of whom the grandma who has died at the very beginning of war frightened me in infancy. Plus to all at it on arms was available, as we perfectly knew, double-barrelled "mortira" the twelfth calibre. But it would be desirable to guzzle. From school we have dragged up the broken school desk to a fence, have piled up upward a box from under nails, and now even to me, the most under-sized in gang, apples were visible as on a palm. From other party of a fence in two ranks there were cross-beams and consequently obstacles for deviation were not. Us was going to the person five, but nobody dared to pass the first two-metre rubikon. At last Mitka has heroically tightened trousers and has disappeared behind a fence. The others have got also. Closing there was I. To the nearest apple-tree was steps forty. I have not overcome in half when Mitka has suddenly rushed back, holding ridiculously on flying away a hand with two apples. It nearly sshib me from feet, has flashed by, falteringly shouting for some reason: — Karau-at-ul!. Have run all. I with a heat about a heat have not stopped at all, and besides apples, sweet, hrumkie, here they — it is necessary to stretch a hand. And when I already stretched a hand and for form's sake strelnul a sight on the parties, I have seen the grandfather of the Goat. He silently and efficiently ran to intersept along a fence. A beard skosobochilas on a shoulder. In its hands the axe sparkled. Zajchik from an edge has struck me on eyes, and in a groin has jammed. I have wildly screamed and have rushed, but not to a fence, and in depth of a garden. I ran so quickly, that had not time to begin to cry at all. Also waited for blow by an axe. On a head. — Hundred-about Th, stervets! — stegnulo behind. The head washing has even more strongly squeezed into shoulders. At the very same time the grandfather of the Trestle has spread me on a rod of the hand and has brutally shaken. I have seen suddenly own red boots before a nose, was compressed, thinking, that now I will crash down a back about the earth. But the grandfather of the Trestle has strange carefully lowered me and, having restrained hair on a nape, has bent down my head. — SHCHas pokaznju you, edrit yours yes! Bush shcho lazat?. And I have felt burning touch of a grin of an axe on a neck. — Aaaaaaaaaaaaa!. As all was then restored under the stories, mine "podelniki", except Mitki the Back, having flown through a fence, have come round only in a class. Mitka, sitting at two-metre height, osharashenno watched a pursuit, and then without the person Would rush into 3rd. — Beliefs Petrovna! There!. The grandfather of the Trestle!. An axe!. ZHenku!. In a garden!. Mum did not remember, how has got over through a fence, already Mitka then painted, that it as the boy has jumped. The grandfather, having seen her face, was unhooked from me, has quickly jumped aside aside and has begun to yell: — I postrashchat, really, postrashchat toko! One weigh a garden poizlohmatili!. — A garden! A garden! — mum shouted in a fever. — bags you carry, a fist devil's, and on the child with an axe? 3а to steam of apples? Well pogodi, you will be responsible for all!. I, having buried in a mum's stomach, only, choking, lowed: — M!. M!. M!. From that day I have started to fidget painfully on initial consonants. A simple phrase, for example: «Have gone on small river», — I spat out from a throat since a half-minute: — P-P-send n-n th r-small river... How much burdensome memoirs have accumulated because of it in due course! I became silent, thoughtful, have started to avoid everything, it is nasty to study... E-e, yes what there to recollect! And as mum after each unsuccessful visit to doctors suffered. In a word, the first meeting with this person at once, strongly also has for a long time shifted my life from rails. I hated it, but was afraid even more strongly. Mum then ran to the chairman, in militia, cried, shouted and even dreamt, but for the grandfather of the Goat all has somehow managed. And he continued to live and still guarded a collective-farm garden. And I, stammering, hating it and being afraid, grew up. Second our meeting has face to face happened exactly in ten years. Again there was an autumn. Our 10th "And" was on the second floor in the corner, and two windows from four looked at a garden. It became even more magnificent and more plentiful, and the same fence has turned black and, appear, was half dug in the earth. I sat on "Kamchatka" at the window, one, and liked during a lesson to put a sight at a garden holiday, to have a rest from grey colour of class walls. And then, if long did not pull the teacher, I ran into heresy mechtatelstva. I have been at that time hopelessly enamoured. In Ljusju Mamayev. From 10th "In". It was beautiful that not terrible beauty at the sight of which not stolbeneesh, you do not swallow language and do not become covered by the patient sticky then if you start talking to it. In its radiant, with splashes of laughter brown eyes was not droplets of arrogance and devchonochej silly self-admiration. Toshno to look at other poseur at whom as soon as vstoporshchilas a jacket on a breast yes hardly other places began to be approximated, she already and imagines — the queen, for worship waits... ljusja was not such. Any boy could approach to it and without ceremony ask: — ljus, you will go syodni to club? Well, without ceremony! Any. Except me. Mentally at me without a knot without zadorinki it turned out, but only I will imagine, as I will begin ljuljukat: «Lju-lju-ljusja, we p-p-will go...», — so the throat intercepted a spasm. It became opposite. I have published it liked. Saw off her too on distance. And in the evenings on appointments went. With its windows. Stood hours and the shadow play looked. And heart moved in a breast, as the big rabbit in a close cage. Time even ohamel to boldness, in darkness has rolled over through shtaketnik a front garden, the nose pripljushchil has made the way between beds and to its window. One curtain — my ally! — hardly it was turned, and I have seen... It stood sideways to a window and assorted bed. Thoughtfully, has slowly combined half-and-half, then four times a pink coverlet, has hung up on a chair back. Has cast away a blanket in it is dazzling a white blanket cover. Has shaken up a pink pillow. Has approached to a pier glass at an opposite wall, took a crest and has spent some times on light hair. Has then got a pink nightgown from a case and has put on a bed. «It is necessary to leave!» ljusja has run fingers on pugovichkam a house dressing gown and has thrown off it. On it there were only pink shorts and any devchonochy, probably, a self-made white brassiere. It was softly bent, has unbuttoned its and chilly movement has slipped out shoulders shoulder-straps. I, choking, have seen two is gentle-pink circles, glowing on is shrill white defenceless hillocks... Suddenly she has shuddered has darted a glance at a window and was pulled to a shirt. I have rushed regardless of obstacles through a prickly acacia. Has burnt the person. Rashly sadanulsja about shtaketnik. Has flown away. Has jumped. It was threw through it and, being unsteady, has gone. I wandered till a dawn. My cheeks burnt, under a spoon is sweet ached, in eyes all was white and pink, white and pink... I have waited some painful days, removing myself in space as it is possible further from Lucy, not daring and a sight to slip on its figure or the person. She, still, probably, about me did not think. And I a week later have again started to be stolen on its trace which has not cooled down yet. But to a window more never came nearer. Who knows, can, in due course I and would dare to fall heavily, so to say, to it in feet — k-k-executions or m-m-mmi-luj! — but unexpectedly and terribly point my novel was put by the grandfather of the Trestle. In the culture House there was last session. ljusja was there. Naturally, and I. This time I have so grown bolder, that for the first time have sat down closely behind it and all film cautiously, like a dog, inhaled exciting smell of its dismissed damp hair. For some reason it was without girlfriends. I have understood, that there has come at last evening of resolute actions. Light has flashed. It left. I trace. The headlight of the moon after darkness of a hall blinded eyes. The rain has already ceased. That from club to get on World street where vein ljusja, it was necessary to round a collective-farm garden. The film this time was not all that well, it is not enough public, and when we — ljusja ahead, I steps to half-hundred behind — have approached to a garden fence remained on my happiness (or a grief!) together. And the witness — the moon. As at cinema. «Everything, now will begin along a fence a deaf path, it is necessary to catch up simply and is negligent — the main thing, carelessly! — the protection to offer... Now! Only not too to worry, dear, and that to it from your stutter toshno becomes...» ljusja has suddenly looked back on me and — here the little girl! — has shifted the torn off board in a fence and straight through a night garden. I have stopped. Lines with it, with a garden, but after all there somewhere the grandfather of the Trestle! I have touched a board and have cautiously glanced in a crack. ljusja quickly went between trees, and on branches as if toys on New Year trees, shone apples-spheres. I was wished to use cunning: say, I will wave around and meeting Ljusju with that party, but has suddenly grown furious and has straightened out the dushonku — that she will think of me? It goes and on all grandfathers and "goats" nachhala! I have resolutely squeezed, have bustled on hardly to an appreciable path and have already pressed lungs on a diaphragm, being going to to call Ljusju as suddenly whence sideways and has behind rumbled: — One hundred Th, edrit yours yes! Hundred-about th, stervetsy!. Goat! Me and now all perekorezhivaet with painful shame at memoirs that has occurred further. I even, the rascal, have not looked back. Has not dared to look back. Me as has struck. I have jumped up from a hail, have involved a head and have rushed off a nasty gopher, losing feet, stumbling and not falling nearly. Confused person Lucy, its body overwound in a half-turn has flashed. By. A shot! Choked «Oh!» And — hysterical heart-breaking squeal-groan... The grandfather of the Trestle that evening was drunk and instead of "salty" cartridges (it and earlier on boys postrelival salt) has set in a double-barrelled gun bekasinye. Ljuse have amputated the right foot — the knee has been completely shattered and the gangrene has begun. ljusja long laid in area, then, having left, at once has moved somewhere in other edges, to relatives. One-legged. I it more never saw and I can not present its such at all. I can not. The grandfather judged. I acted as the witness. In those days intoxication, strangely enough, still was circumstance extenuating fault, someone besides has stood up for the grandfather of the Goat persistently, and to it have soldered only two years. On court I was burnt by the relation to me of people: hatred, contempt, disgust, sneers... At first all was normal. Though all sat in a hall, rural but very few people knew event details. I could not with anybody about it to speak. I for days on end sat at home (even to school has ceased to go) and only and did, that was turned out from itself by a stocking with shame and melancholy. On a consequence I did not finish speaking much, mumbled, that is casual in a garden it has appeared, that has not had time to help and all with such spirit. And here, on court, has suddenly decided, that it is necessary to me pokajatsja. Before the people pokajatsja in the cowardice and then, it was thought, I will step over this damned barrier then I can look at last in eyes to people and, the main thing, to the Goat. I in general could not look at it, how forced myself. And I have started to repent. However, I have for some reason begun not with an axe, and from the most difficult: — I l-l-liked L-l-ljusju... I looked in a floor and squeezed out painfully, as bad blood from a wound, a word behind a word. «Only it is not necessary about pink on white, it is not necessary!» — fought in a temple... But I and about it have told. And here when should gush so passionately expected simplification, I have looked in a hall, and all in me has cracked... I have understood a same minute, that in village to me not to live, and consequently next day have left in the regional centre. Has gone to work on building, dug first the earth (yes to me and all the same was — the earth to dig, whether nail zakolachivat or money false to print), have lodged me in a hostel. At first stuck and in a brigade, and neighbours in a room, on acquaintance jammed, have then thrown. I knew, that they the Stutterer and the Black Box have christened me, — to spit! I was silent. Not to them was. Here it has begun. It povadilsja to me to come at night. You break with a shovel to the twelfth sweat in the afternoon, it and lagged behind, and had a seat on bed edge at night, is vile on a head me a rough snag ironed also something muttered with threat. Has directly begun to smell marsh of its mouth it was felt... I have entered the evening. Has started to be engaged at night, in a hall of a hostel of the book to read, and four-five hours which have remained for a dream a uniform drink swallowed. Knew: I will stop — again will seize. And I without a stop read, read, read, while over the book and was not disconnected. Glanced at me strange. Oh these sights! All life! All life!. Now I understand, what is it there was a fight with a shade. All the same, that has come Snub-nosed for the person, and it kulachonkom to it in a grin has started to stick and thinks, that resists, and does not feel, silly, whistle with what the perfected plait of Death comes nearer to his neck... However I aside have left. I with her sister to struggle tried. Tried... In two years as it to be released, and nightmares more strongly the former have begun at me. After all has climbed up in a head, that it it is indispensable therefrom to me will call in. However, I also did not know precisely, in what places he "had a rest" also what road will come back. I waited. Each hour. Every minute. Also has waited. Time late at night in November, after job, I laid over a blanket and waited-watched. Behind windows poured. Two guys sat at a table, drank poisonous Vermouth and played cards, tastefully using foul language. I zrimo have seen, how the grandfather of the Trestle, with a ridiculous wet bag on a shoulder and an axe behind a belt, have approached to hostel doors, have shaken off drops of a rain from a cap and beards, have asked something the watchwoman and, clinging to a handrail, have got on a ladder... In me something stretched and has started to vibrate, heart was curtailed into a tubule. I have mechanically rummaged around hands, but anything heavy nearby was not. The door was opened without knock, and it has entered. Has not entered at all, and it is somehow opposite, making mischief, has jumped into a room. — Here I, kasatik! Edrit yours yes!. Guys so have taken a great interest in maps, that — an attention zero. The grandfather of the Trestle suddenly convulsively, fussing, has started to pull off a bag from shoulders, simultaneously trying to pull out an axe because of a belt (it in a belt has been intercepted by any vile red belt), and all time mowed on me a black eye. — Aaaaaaaaaaaaa!. N the p-p-help!. With me then five (from a corridor have still run) have hardly consulted. Have called a flasher with a cross. Treated long. When let out, the doctor at last once again vdolbil: to read it is less, and it is better to throw absolutely — it is impossible to strain a head. Has moved again on building, already in another SMU, the earth to dig. Yes, has forgotten absolutely, already before "clearing" the same doctor to me ostorozhnenko has informed, that my mum already to that two months as has died, but — it was restive — to go on a tomb to me not a trace, there can be relapses. Certainly, he not death of mother meant (I somehow this message has easy apprehended, could not realise), and he was afraid of my meeting with it. But I, remember, then have already thought: instead of whether to try to go and look to it in eyes?. This thought long pinched from time to time my soul, but I have not dared... It is necessary to tell, that it became even more difficult to me to talk. I and generally tried to be silent, and as have noticed, that from effort to start talking toshnotnye spasms started a throat to pull, in general has grown dumb. I sit — I am silent. I dig — I am silent. I go — I am silent. To have a drink port has begun and too silently. At this job me again in the first days pulled - something asked, somewhere called, for something agitated. Time (I in a room one was) the little girl – tall, bolsheglazaja, in jeans – it was secured. And so, speaks, call Lyudmila, the Komsomol secretary, whether you wish to accept in release of the wall newspaper participation? Orally I could not utter, and on a piece of paper have accurately and largely written: «Go you to... Mothers!» Eyes vytarashchila, has jumped out. But consequences was not, to it, probably, have explained, whence I have appeared. Have got rid. So for the mute moron also considered. To me and it is better. Here I jump, because year two-three (and itself I do not remember, how much) the earth lopatil, ate, slept also saws. Day after day. Here port also promoted that I as one of Dostoevsky's heroes, on «the seventh verst» has again rung out. And I have rung out and with the big ring of that has started eventually not one to drink, and with it. At first like one I begin. Only a portion I will pass, a nausea I will overcome (and nasty port at us do — poison rat!), and it — here it, the grandfather of the Trestle, already the glass stretches. I poured. Also talked. All tried to find out, what for he has stuck, krovosos, in me why he has chosen me also my life how a rag rumples also feet the hoofed animals about it wipes?. After such pathetic speeches I, having waited when it podpjaneet, started it to rumple: tore a beard, twisted ears, eyes tried to pick out... This time repaired my "Village Soviet" even longer. Also have repaired capitally. I to think began so obviously and soberly, that on a sight of the doctor (all the same) have understood — to soon me to come back. If will occur nothing. And what could occur? I on "summer residence" of the beginnings about it to argue. And here, when left, has looked at the dark blue sky, on greens and yellowness of the world (there was again a September—), has understood, this splinter it is necessary to pull out woman's summer at last. The scheme a reasoning is approximately that: I will kill the grandfather of the Goat, I will stay for this vonjuchku ten, let even fifteen years, but these fifteen years there and then to the end I will live, live, live!. I will live, as all. I have been assured of it. «Perhaps, even I marry», — has thought then. * * * … In village a little that has changed: new shop all from glass near to autostation; yes in the distance, at that damned garden, the three-storyed big-eyed building, probably, new school was piled up. I remembered, where hotel, and did not begin to ask. On road all came across unfamiliar, or I did not learn anybody. Too nobody greeted me. So much years have passed! Generally I about any hotel also did not think in the beginning. In a portfolio together with linen and the electrorazor the heavy hammer laid. I have bought it in a city and at all did not begin to clear of butter, its head and remained in a factory paper. To arrive, reach a hut of the Goat, and there though let it one, though with the grandson, the Fascist, urabotaju. But when the bus went on the central street of village, suddenly so has jammed heart memoirs, that I have decided two-three to be day before it, to descend on a cemetery, to Lucy's small house, the God knows — what for. Whether Yes it is not enough of that! The one-storeyed hotel, the ordinary log hut divided by partitions on four parts, was absolutely empty. On bleached walls otevshiesja cockroaches slowly walked. Administratorsha, young also the nice maid, was delighted to me: who? Whence? What for? On how much?. Under the passport she has understood, that I local and more have more stuck: really native is not present? Acquaintances? I have explained more shortly, that was not present, have arrived on affairs. It, having noticed as I painfully croak, was receded. Already in a double room when it laid pure linen, I was not kept and have asked: — T-T-here K-k-kozlovy zh-lived... Not z-z-know, g-g-where the d-grandfather s-now? The D-D-grandfather of K-K-trestle... — As I do not know, I know. It like in hospital would guard. And they live somewhere on Steppe, behind school... Having reminded once again, that the TV the general, on kitchen, also that the dining room in village works to seven, the mistress left. I have fallen on a rigid chair, have put portfelishko on knees and have calmed down, trying not to think of it. And suddenly, as if someone from the party has pushed, I have recollected, that here a bath a stone's throw away and today just Friday — the first bannyj day during a week. A portfolio I took with myself. The bath was former, similar to a shed or a stable, with zabelennymi windows and rusty akseleratnoj a pipe from which such sickly smoke was twisted, that at once it became clear — both to the people is not present, and the stoker loafs. Banshchitsa on a man's half too remained since those times — the aunt Belief — and even not not changed almost for these years as soon as gorbatee became. At me heart has in vain missed a bit, she did not recognise me, took talonchik and has sung: — From and ladushki, from and the plan we will execute... Isho three are not present, and, look, Marja (towards a female half), the second kljaent already... And it again zakovyrjala spokes. All lockers in a locker room, except one, were open. I have passed on the usual place, at a window, just opposite to the closed booth, have undressed, have got a marching towel from a portfolio, have come across a hammer and was surprised — have had time to forget about him. In a bath it was cool and it is empty, benches, besides except one, stood the dry. In a steam room someone was whipped by a broom and loudly grunted. At doors on a female half, hammered nails and the fenced off bench, still shone accurate holes — boys job. Female voices and laughter were heard. I have recollected that shameful heat burning more strongly of steam not strong still a body when you will nestle, happened, to a hole and see not so much, how much guess in a fog something pink, forbidden, secret... These memoirs have amused me, and I have some times hemmed, even, it is possible to tell, and have smiled, that did not happen very long ago any more. Washed not hurrying up, with relish as if before wedding, has wasted tazikov eight waters, and that, cranky parilshchik, tortured all and tortured itself. It was to the best: the mood mood, and kommunikabelnichat nevertheless with anybody would not be desirable. I left in a waiting room and, not being wiped, villages on a smooth bench and have blissful relaxed. «And to live it is possible! — has unexpectedly flashed in a head. — Perhaps it is necessary nothing? Perhaps and so all and is for ever good? Without it?.» I have not opened eyes and have not moved, when the door has squeaked, and with heat wave in a locker room has become hollow parilshchik. It it is sonorous, as if lastami, proshlyopal to the place, it was spat, pofyrkal, has voluptuously moaned, has then calmed down and gurgle was distributed — has begun to smell beer. Gurgle has stopped. It pochmokal it is tasty lips, and I have understood — now will start talking. And more I have understood, instantly, to its first words — that now will be. I have felt all spinal cord as if through me have passed through the become covered with hoarfrost cord. — Kha! Kha!. Oho-ho-hoh, and pomojno pivtso, edrit yours yes! Kha!. I have opened eyes. The grandfather of the Trestle, raskorjachiv woolly feet and scratching in a beard, good-natured looked at me. It has grown fat and was bent, the flabby stomach began from posivevshej beards and drooped downwards, hiding its man's nature, fat folds ran one on another on all steamed out, grey, as if at oshchipannogo a heavy goose, to a body. It has with astonishment looked at a portfolio which has suddenly appeared at me in a lap, and zakhakal: — Kha! Kha! CHyo you, zastesnjalsja, whether chyo, prikryvaessja? Kha! I not the woman, edrit yours yes! Kha! And it (it it is tender kolyhnul hands the absolutely female breasts). The god, edrit yours yes, shutkuet... Has awarded before smertushkoj, kha!. I have presented, as I will take out now obmaslennyj a hammer, I will strike, as all grey hulk shmjaknetsja it on a floor, and I will be above it, too naked, too grey, but lean... People, the aunt Belief Will run in, will understand nothing... Something from depth me has risen and has started to be torn outside. I yet have not understood (can — toshnit?) as strange abrupt sounds have started to burst in a throat: ha! ha! ha! The grandfather of the Trestle was scaredly threw up; — You chyo? CHyo, the guy? Has overheated? I did not answer and more for about a minute as if beat a hammer: ha! ha! ha!. Has then wiped a towel of tear and has spoken: — Give, otche, beer, do not regret! And when I took, almost force, a bottle, have made pair of drinks, continuing to look at this person, to me have reached, that I have uttered: «Give, otche, beer, do not regret!» — sharply, exactly and smoothly. — Hey, you! — I uncertainly have still said. — the grandfather of the Trestle! The grandfather of the Fascist! Give still beer! All these words were uttered smoothly as if on the greased trench balls have rolled down. — CHyo you, the guy? CHyo you? — The grandfather has fluttered. — CHyo to me, it is a pity? On! CHyo you cling?. My God, he really and sincerely was frightened of me (I, probably, resembled on drunk) and all vibrated, as a cheap refrigerator. I took a beer bottle, have accurately beaten off a stopper about bench edge, have stretched a hand and have poured out all beer directly on the scared eyes of the Goat, on its smelly beard and on its woman's obscene breasts. He only shivered and blinked. I wanted, already having put on, to remind it of an axe, about Ljuse... To what? At what here it? Unless this bag with a beard is guilty what I almost twenty five years were not themselves? Unless it?. I left a bath, have blinked from beams of already sunset sun, was pulled absolutely childly and have thought: «And after all to me only thirty... To Live, live still!» * * * I have closed a folder. The first thought — wrote all it, undoubtedly, the normal person. And still something pressed a brain, any thought. I have not pushed a curtain (have mechanically switched on a desk lamp when has darkened), and the moon an egg yolk has hung on a lattice of a hospital window. I have switched on a ceiling light and by internal phone have asked to bring the doctor on duty to me "business" Mihajlova. I have started attentively and to read all documents successively. Indeed! First time it was on treatment ten months and after three years has got to us again, in second time. And in last. It did not leave a clinic any more. I admit, some days I could not make the decision. Has and still accepted. Once, right after a breakfast I have called Mihajlova on conversation and as soon as it has entered, have straight asked: — You are assured, what is it was? — No... V-you z-z-know, n-for certain, ch-that I the v-v-second r-time at v-you... — So ch-that? (I have for some reason started to stammer.) — D-D-yes n-anything. To M-M-me k-seems, it m-m-mo-zhet b-be, if... — What — if? — If... Its sight finished speaking the rest. I have silly kept silent minutes three, then took myself in hands and have firmly said: — We have come to conclusion, that you are already healthy. Tomorrow in ten mornings receive documents and — to live. Go, be excused with companions. He has turned pale, has reddened, wished to tell something, but only the spasm has slipped on its throat. It silently has risen and left. * * * ... A month later I have called in that Village Soviet, it was presented for some reason by the employee of militia and have asked the secretary: — Tell, at you the person known under a name the grandfather the Goat lives? The secretary at all was not surprised to such ridiculous question. — Yes, is such — Goats Vadim Egorovich. It on pension, but continues to work as the watchman at school. The deserved person. And what's happened? — Just anything also does not happen, — I have calmed the woman and have calmed down. 1983
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© Rosedkin Sergey Nikolaevich, 2001
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