Not a trace of the morning blizzard. Only the sun in a monochromatic sky. The wind is strong, but at long intervals of calm. The shadows from each figure are clear, almost sapphire.
Bones, are you coming? Nina twists a cigarette in her plump fingers and points to the exit with her eyes.
The doors open silently. I go down the threshold. The cold creeps in under rolled up sleeves.
I would put on a jacket, - in a motherly way. - Who will give you tea if you get sick?
By the way, has your son recovered? - through the first puff.
I went to school yesterday. Scarf, fool, does not wear. I knitted myself. I was specifically looking for a scheme with the inscription "Spartacus", I tried. He doesn't appreciate what he has at all. Chicken soup, bastard, poured into a bowl for a dog. Eats dry food. That is OK. He still drank tea with jam. And in the morning it was all gone. On mommy's jam. She made it herself, from our garden raspberries.
I envy her son. He is thirteen. He is fond of football. And he has a mother.
Good. If I get sick, I know where to get the medicine.
She meets my chuckle with sympathy. Head to the side. Short, chewed red chemistry curls fall on an eyebrow. He narrows his eyes unkindly, peering over my shoulder.
“I just wanted to complain that you still haven’t settled down at your almost thirty, but I’m looking at such people,” she nods her chin, “and I understand that the women are now unsuitable.
Follow her gaze. Half-turned head. A freshly washed black Porsche has a red-faced bull. He squints into the daylight like a bear that has just crawled out of its lair. In a piercing voice, like the sound of a sawmill, the girl scolds him.
Why are you smiling? I'm serious. We're not going anywhere.
You misunderstood everything.
What a moron you are. You ruined everything!
Mil...
She dared to call you in front of me!
We didn't have anything.
Yes, you went! And you can take your Svetulechka. I have nothing to do with you anymore.
The girl turns around and walks towards us.
Honey, stop it. This is my best friend's wedding.
I'm not going.
Do you even understand how much money he paid for each person?
Don't care.
With a jerk he catches up with her, pulls on the hood of her fur coat.
Let go!. Are you going with me.
“Let go, I say,” he opens his fingers, and she recoils.
Get in the car and wait. I'll go get some champagne.
When you come, I will be gone.
“That's when I'll call Sveta,” he throws over his shoulder.
The red-faced man almost reached the threshold of the store.
You are a lustful fat man! She jumps up the steps, blocking his path. - All you think about is how to have sex with a new whore. It's disgusting to look at you. Yes, I no longer flow from you. I imagine other men when you sniff on me.
And who will you represent tonight? His nervous smile froze like a grimace.
The last puff eats the filter, burns fingers. On your haunches. The red light hisses, goes out. Cold fingers. Snow is as hard as rock salt.
Yes, anyone but you. At least this, - the girl smiles at me through a grimace of anger.
I stand up and stare at her. I glance at the redhead. He purses his lips and says:
This rogue such women as you will never give. You wanted to go to the Maldives. And a new phone. Also, your mom needs a new operation or she'll die. So tonight you will suck me. And I don't care who you're going to imagine.
What an asshole you are, - she sobs lingeringly, as if with a breath she swallows something that rises across her throat. She covers her face with her hands and sinks onto the steps.
The first step before running is always soft, inaudible. Acceleration starts from the second. Climbing stairs. The transparent door has not yet had time to move behind him. I slip inside. Left turn. The floor is damp but clean. The feet almost do not feel the firmament under them. But inside everything is like flint, as if the muscles go around the internal organs like a stone shell. Shelf with multi-colored fruits black and white. And only crimson spots before the eyes.
Look at me.
Turned over his shoulder. I waited for him to turn around with his whole body.
Redface begins to fall. When he hits the floor with his back, the back of his head is still supported by weight. I'm over it. Fist to the cheekbone. He winces. Crooked mouth. The mouth seems to be crawling away from the impact site. I reach him with my other hand. In the jaw of the left. His exclamation squeaks through the op around. For breasts. I pull him closer to me, as if I want to get a better look at his face. I keep hitting. Relief. With pleasure. I hit him like it's my father in front of me. I've been waiting so long. I dreamed about it all my weak little childhood. I've imagined it a thousand times. I'll get taller. I'm growing up. I'll fall. And I will beat so furiously that the floor will break under his body. Revenge. I will avenge him for the very fact of my birth.
Someone pulls me by the shoulders.
The red-faced man leans on his elbow. Gets on his knees. I clench my fists and barely keep from knocking him to the floor again. I bite into my own cheeks. Wait. Let it fail. He's had enough.
He rises, fingers hooked on the fruit counter. Goes swaying. Crashes into the door.
"It won't open from this side, you moron," I say.
He recoils, passes between the cash registers. I follow him.
The girl is still on the doorstep. Startled with sobs. She sat like that, burying herself in her hands. Nina, who disliked her from the start, now leans over and strokes her forearm.
What about your mom? - I sit opposite. I peer into the closed face.
What do you care?
Ning, leave us, please.
By the time the doors close behind her, the girl is no longer trembling.
I can help.
You? – spits out with a bitter smile. - How? He spreads his palms, wiping his eyes and cheeks. Black streaks with silver sequins around her eyes like a carnival mask.
Tell me what happened to your mom. Why is she sick?
This is gynecology - sobs. - So humiliating. I had to discuss this with him. Account for every dollar spent. Tell what they cut out, bring checks for pads. Disgusting, she shudders.
Did I understand correctly that a second operation is needed?
“It’s…very bad.” She peers into my eyes with such desperation that she becomes uneasy.
"Write down the phone."
Whose?
Not mine. My friend. His name is Elisha. Write, I say.
Who is he? In need of escort services? - Evil stretches her lips, but she got the phone.
I dictate.
He will be able to arrange your mother in a good clinic. Now go for a medical history, and call while you go. Say it's from Kostya. I will warn him.
"Okay," she shrugs. “Will you find me yourself?” Or will I only owe your Elisha? - gets up, goes down the steps, smoothes her wet skirt.
Honey, yes?
She nods and holds out her hand to me. She has icy fingers, like frogs that have just jumped out of the dark depths of the pond. Marie always had warm fingers, her palms were hot and dry. He liked to hide his nose in them from the cold. It warmed my chapped cheeks. Even by the sea it did not freeze in winter. And then I showed her our dacha overlooking the water. There I fucked her right on the balcony. She always wanted to make love, gently. But my love for her was different, unrestrained. I didn't want to slow. I studied her body in jerks, gulps, confused whispers. And she only stroked in response.
And you, then, Kostya? - removes his hand.
Right. I look into her face. “Mila, never sleep with a man for money. It will destroy you.
Did you decide to read morality to me? You teach, and you yourself send me to some Elisha.
He won't take anything from you. Promise.
Who then?
Just call a taxi and call him.
I'm to the park. Pulls like a magnet to clusters of trees. To a lot of oxygen. To have something higher, but created not by people, by nature itself. You don't always want to fight it.
