Rotten river

Гнилая река

Came back for the stuff. As always, fell unexpectedly. The same rubber doll with painted eyes and sharply protruding Breasts appeared from behind a tree. The same suffocating smell of warm rubber. Ivan tried not to look at a naked inflatable woman, but she quick jumps closer to him and hugged him and pressed his face to the brown nipples. Suffocation and disgust was overwhelming. Ivan groaned and shook his head.

– You chogo, Ivan? – From the kitchen window he heard the discontented voice of his wife.
– Nichogo, – answered Ivan.

He was sitting in the garden of their old house. He was wearing a blue suit and bright striped shirt. Over the head of Ivan Nikolaevich entwined branches of Apple trees. Each branch is a solid white pink script was a flutter of Apple blossoms. The spring sun shone through the living tissue flowers, and sun spots covered the land, the face of Ivan Nikolaevich and his tanned wrinkled hands.

So I would sit him. Because in this frozen silence in the soul was part of the world. And painful memories and shocking pictures, like the one with a rubber doll, was less.

Ivan reached for his pack of cheap cigarettes, always lying in his jacket pocket. However, smoke doesn’t have to.

For a low fence, through the Apple and cherry, he saw them narrow the village street moves to the big black car. He was moving slowly. If you approach like a beast on the hunt.

He heard two short, insistent signal from the car, and then the voice of his wife, joyful and fake:

Oh, Vitenka arrived!

The driver, tall athletic build, slightly plump, handsome in a soft leather jacket, casually slammed the door of an expensive car, opened the gate and began to slowly approach the house. Under the leather jacket, a glimpse of his strong, fat body. A large head sat firmly on the broad rounded shoulders. And look solid with a fashionable stubble, the face was mocking and triumphant.

Ivan lit his “Will.”

The best people Hello! he heard and winced his teeth.

Victor, the assistant and the driver of his son, foolishly bowed to Ivan Nikolayevich, he waved a broad hand with short fingers and stretched by the smile on his lipless mouth.

Ivan did not answer. He took one look at Vitinka a long, unblinking gaze of his clear blue eyes. These eyes were kind, shy, almost childish. But in a moment of danger or when Ivan met someone’s contemptuous arrogance or complacency, they become dark and daring.

– Will you eat, Vitenka? – Elaine asked the wife, leaving the house.
– No-no! – answered the driver. – Time!

He tapped the dial of his large, heavy hours.

– Well, what? Let’s go old. – said the wife.

Ivan extinguished “Accept”, got up and, without looking at Victor, limping badly, went to the gate.

– Poczekaj! a frightened voice cried the wife. – From where you’re taqiy pishov

She caught up with Ivan Nikolaevich, leaned over and, grunting, began to correct his pant leg on his right leg. On the one which had a replacement.

– Hvatit! – said Ivan, and, dragging his leg, went to the car.
– Dwellers and not smiv there kuriti! – shouted the wife.

Then they rode through the village.

School. The old Church, which rarely came. In the distance a cemetery. It couldn’t be seen, but Ivan Nikolayich always remember that it is there.

When I was driving past the school, inside he did not move and it doesn’t. And he’s worked here all his life. First a teacher, then Director. But in memory there was only vanity, the tired faces of the teachers, the noise and the eternal calling to him:

– Ivan Nikolaevich! Ivan Mykolaevich! You Yak and Yak Director of the Communist…

Only one picture from the past that warmed his soul. Son Vitalik in a white shirt and a pioneer tie, with a bouquet of lilacs comes up to him at school and, embarrassed, says:

– Ivan Mykolaevich, pozdravljamo you s the new school year!

And all around smiles affectionately. And he has the heart aches and burning eyes. He, too, embarrassed, looks away, though he wants to embrace this clean little boy, son of his.

The car rolled on the road, blurred by rain, and they drove past the cemetery. Ivan sat there, not raising his head. He knew what was outside the window. The fence, crosses. There lay his mother. It seemed that he come out of the car right now, skarakis on clay hill, clutching at the grass, and there…

There will meet the mother and say:

– Ivanochko, atomise? Soon we will sup.

And I remembered Ivan Nikolaevich, how many years ago, a young, full of energy and brought home a bride. As mom got out of the corner of the icon, and, biting his lip, smiling and crying, and blessed them. I remembered the smell of my mother’s dress and, like him, a little, held him when he walked on the field. And the warm wind over the field. And the rustle of the leaves in their garden. And all this, with the chickens, singing, smiling neighbors, aunt Galya and aunt Frosya, wearing it, loving and hiding from prying eyes.

When my mother died, Ivan was not allowed to take out from the house the icon of the virgin. Insisted. While all around were doing the surprised, frightened eyes: the Communist, the Director, know! And the wife, that’s the one that now sat in the front seat and giggling in response to the opinionated roar of Vitunichi, also said:

– Oh, is not required! Chi you sgurev, Ivan?

But with the cross, he gave up. Allowed himself to be persuaded. Like, who now puts the crosses. And in the district immediately informed. And he retreated. Chickened out. But mom, when it was very wizened and sick, often repeated:

Yak die, Ivanko, as you wish little krestik and suppliers. Bo without a good old-fashioned Christian scary!
– Good afternoon! – shouted somewhere nearby. The machine slowed, letting two fat women on bikes.
– To Vitalik? asked the one driving.
Yeah, until the acne is important said his wife Ivan Nikolaevich from the car window. But then, recollecting himself, loudly shouted to the other women:
– Movie about him, he’s snimati!

This “movie” and from the proud tone wife Ivan groaned softly and shook his head.

How did it all happen? Quickly, quietly.

He remembered the wife in a cotton dress, dark-haired, fun-loving, young. And Vitalik, first tiny, chubby legs. And then the lad, schoolboy, barefoot, in zastiranny t-shirt, with a fishing rod in his hands. Then Vitaly was a student. Came from Kiev, hungry, slept and eaten off the house. And he, Ivan, when the son came on vacation, slowly the night crept into his room and just sat and listened as the breathing in her sleep.

And now the “movie”. How many years from all sides whisper to him, suggesting, they say, aren’t you a wonderful son. And on TV his show and the guard goes. And he, the old man can not believe that it was true. What is his acne, with a confident and slightly unhappy with a swollen face, greets the President. And that the shops on Khreshchatyk with black mannequins in the Windows is his, acne, and shops. And they say it has restaurants, cafes, casino and a huge slaughterhouse. And the house, standing on a mountain near Kiev, like a fairy Palace, is also his, acne.

And, most importantly, no joy Ivan this is not felt. He only seemed that doctors have given someone else, to use for a while. But still seemed like an alien world, where still frozen plastic mannequins in pink bras, took his son.

– Ivan, what are you, asleep? – he heard the voice of his wife.

Ivan, really, a bit drowsy and didn’t notice how they came to that fairy-tale Palace. The house, though, and walked off on cut-out paper toy was real. Near it went live people. From the roof, decorated with carved pinnacles, with a cry took off two crows. And still feel like there’s some kind of game, cheating, never left Ivan Nikolaevich.

– Legs vythiri! – muffled said the wife when they approached the house.

Ivan stopped in front of a high door, and again hesitated, looked around and became hard, with some calling looking for the wife to wipe his black boots. However, he dropped to one side, so as to drive the prosthesis on wool carpet with a strange inscription in English letters, it was uncomfortable and painful.

– Here we are! sweet a lisping voice, as talking to young children, said smiling, a very lively woman with red hair and dry wrinkles.– My name is Marina, I’m a Director. And this is our statement.

Ivan Nikolaevich glanced at the bearded man who was busy near a small camera on a tripod, and no one was paying attention.

Around in a large hall similar to the hall of the Museum, was full of columns. Ivan again, barely audible, groaned in frustration. Well, that’s what this is? Many of the columns he had seen only once in a lifetime, when rural teachers, were taken to Kiev for a concert at the Philharmonic. But it was not a house, and Philharmonic. And then why? And why this gold ceiling, covered with plump pink angels?

– Hello, dad! – smooth voice said, the daughter of Svyatoslav, and moving on long legs as if on the catwalk, went to Ivan Nikolaevich. From above, from the height of its growth, it tipped the still face and double, left and right, put his head to face Ivan Nikolaevich. From this touch and he shivered. And from the smell of perfume emanating from his wife’s son, he suddenly felt stuffy, as it was then in the garden when in front of him again was the crap with a rubber woman.

The first time such a frankly obscene rubber doll Ivan Nikolayich saw on the birthday Vitali. Noisy, flashy restaurant where he and his wife sat on the honorary parents ‘ place, but still felt small and miserable, was full of red-faced men and brightly painted women. His son, Vitaly, who is all around, of course, was called Vitaly, sitting in the center of the table here with this leggy Svjatoslava that never smiled and always looked straight ahead.

It was then strange men in black tuxedos, winking at each other, made inflated doll of a naked woman and steel with different jokes to give to her son. And he, the boy, does not hesitate and not having to eat, said something in response was touching the doll in different places and all around, guests, musicians, entertainers, loud and obsequious laughed.

Since then, Ivan Nikolaevich began to appear as a Ghost, this cursed doll and strangle him in his arms.

– So, with whom? – flustered Director Marina, looking first at Ivan Nikolayich, his wife. – Many do not need to say. Something funny, touching the life of our dear great man. As he was in childhood. Always wanted to become a business genius or had other romantic dreams.

Rezhissersha said, not stopping, and pushing old people to the two huge armchairs in front of which stood the camera, and waited for a bearded operator.

Ivan looked at his wife.

– And let me! said the wife ingratiating tone in which she usually spoke with urban, well-dressed people.

She has become an expert in a wide easy chair and wife, perched on the very edge, Boyko spoke, apparently pre-prepared phrases.

When acne PDR malenky, ucisa it’s great! In school its all uvjali. And one of ucitelka in the third grade Manny said, “and you’ll see, Valentine Petrovna from Vitalik will be a great cholovik!”

Ivan Nikolaevich very much like smoke and did not want to hear this, as he called it himself, “the report”.

He began to think, where would he go and hide, but didn’t have time to invent anything, because in the far end of the room opened the side door, and out on a small bike left tousled haired boy of about ten. It was Yurchik.

Ivan tensed, gathered strength and forced himself fun to watch her grandson. Yurchik, meanwhile, took a spin on a bike around her grandmother, who is lively and picturesque began to applaud him.

And that, as I understand it, Yury Vitalyevich?

Director Marina made the sign of the operator and that, looking at camera, began to follow Yurchik circling on the bike.

– Yura, stop it! – strictly said the daughter of Svyatoslav.

Yurchik stopped and without getting off the bike was embarrassed to see the mother, the grandmother. On his face was a bit strange, like a long samarasa smile. It seemed Yurchik was smiling his way, what he saw inside. And what he saw gave him a secret joy.

Marina Yurchik held microphone.

– And now we congratulate the Pope on anniversary of his Corporation! Yuri, please tell me, “Dad, congratulations, I wish you success and prosperity.”

Yurchik looked at registers the Marina. His smile became a little guilty. Then he paused, staring off to, and finally, with difficulty, among lips, said like two little cotton, “da”, and then “PA”.

– He says, – proudly said the daughter of Svyatoslav and added, in a tone of order – He doesn’t need anything to say.

The Director immediately understood the situation.

Then, we’ll just wave to the Pope the pen and, as if to say: “When you-ve-e-t!”

She stretched the last word as if addressed to the baby. And her dry face all covered with sharp wrinkles.

Yurchik affectionately looked at Marina, as if nodded.

– Well, I’ll do so with a pen?

Yurchik again smiled apologetically, then looked at Ivan Nikolayich, raised his hand to wave to Santa, but changed his mind and, famously taking off on the bike, raced back to the end of the hall, where he disappeared behind the door.

Was particularly quiet. In this silence, Ivan Nikolaevich unexpectedly loudly grunted and almost said one obscene word. All turned to him.

– Daddy, can you walk around the house while we’re…

The daughter of Svyatoslav, as always, looked calm and still. Ivan lowered his head. He didn’t like to look her in the face. Not to fear, but it was hard and shameful.

Ivan, silently, stood up and lurched towards the marble staircase. He knew that up there is the famous picture gallery, which Vitalik wife loved to show guests where Ivan Nikolaevich never looked. But now he is dragging his leg, began to vigorously rise to the second floor. Still, I wanted to smoke.

On the second floor were pictures. Son and daughter-in-law bought them for big money and hung on the wall. Ivan walked along the gallery, crouching on the side and trying not to what not to touch. He was disgusted. Like a piece of cardboard was covered with something unclean, like a dung smeared. These colored dried dung, and only saw Ivan. No, sometimes he discerned the contours depicted. Somewhere, a glimpse of the man’s face move eyes and a huge tongue. This language fell out and was drawn as if he was alive, rough, and he can be touched.

Was still painting the black beetles, or worms. Then what kind of icon. Only in the place of God was a picture of Putin with just one eye.

– For what? – ask yourself, Ivan Nikolayevich. – For what?

He had a long and pointless move, like a maze, leaving a long time looking at pictures and looking at the floor.

Why this happened is that at some point in life it all went wrong? But he saw it, felt. But nothing has changed. And when misfortunes began to come one after the other, he sometimes felt that in the soul of someone saying, “See? See? Because it wasn’t that way. Well, now tarry, torment”.

First, he became seriously ill. Long was in the hospital. The leg he cut off, and Smoking is strictly forbidden. Said he could die. But Ivan did not listen and, as if deliberately, waving his hand at all, continued to smoke their “Prima”. Smoked even more than before. With pleasure and perseverance.

Then came the trouble with Yurchik. He was beautiful, white, blue-eyed! And smart, he knew everything. But did not speak. Grunted a bit and then completely died. Wherever the son with the daughter-in-law no carried boy. Abroad different. But it also said that will not speak. The disease some of the Yurchik found, said that the school gave special, and that I always will.

Then disaster struck with Vitaly, with his son. Of course, it happened before, but realized this Ivan Nikolaevich immediately. To anyone about his grief he did not say. After all, would ridicule. Would say, quite Rozum lost man ungrateful. And he alone sadly watched as the stranger, a false life he chooses the son and carries some rotten river.

This rotting river once had a dream to him. It was full of stuff: sex women bald entertainer who drink from the curly glasses, red-faced men, and black mannequins in the pink shorts.

And this stinking river took Vitalik with his new puffy smug face. And he, Ivan, was standing on the Bank, looked at his son and thought: who is this stranger pouter? His favorite is this little lad?

Suddenly Ivan heard strange sounds similar to frequent shuffling. Then came the voice. Two voices – one male and the other female. A female voice seems to be whined about something asked plaintively. And men, in answer, something rumbled bazovica.

Heart Ivan Nikolaevich nailed in the chest. The first thing he wanted to do was leave, to escape. But he stopped and thought for a moment, suddenly moved decisively to where said.

When it came to the turn of the gallery, a female voice moaned:

– Victor, don’t! These clowns came to shoot. I have to go.

Ivan gasped sharply and came around the corner.

The daughter of Svyatoslav stood pressed against the wall. Pressed her with his big body giraudon assistant and driver Vitenka. Hairy hand with short fingers he picked up the skirt sister-in-law Sviatoslava, opened her black stockings, and breathing noisily.

Then they saw Ivan Nikolaevich. Faces both froze in fright. Ivan stood still for a moment, then turned, and how quickly, and went back. Stumbling, he began to descend the marble staircase to the first floor, where there was shooting.

Redhead Marina rushed to him:

– Well, where were you, dear Ivan? We are waiting for you!

Ivan wasn’t thinking clearly. His face was flushed and covered in sweat. Laid the ears, and the words came as if from afar. Absently looking at the sides, the cackle of the Marina, he’s allowed to seat himself in the chair and even attached to the lapel of a blue blazer small black microphone.

– Tell me, Ivan Nikolaevich, ‘ began the Director soulful voice, it was difficult to raise such an outstanding person?

Ivan didn’t answer. For a while he stared at his old boots polished, and then looked up at registers. She continued to say something, shaking his dyed hair.

Transparent blue eyes of Ivan Nikolaevich began to darken. They darkened quickly. And when it became almost black, Ivan very slowly took from his coat pocket a crumpled pack of cigarettes and slowly, without ceasing to look at Marina, his wife lit a cigarette.

The wife screamed. All who were near, puzzled watching the scene. And Ivan several times deeply inhaled, then slowly began to raise his leg on his shortened leg. So that all I saw iron and not aesthetically pleasing prosthesis.

Marina and the wife of Ivan Nikolaevich looked at him with horror. Then Ivan defiantly, as if in jest, lifted the prosthesis, once again deeply inhaled, coughed loudly, and collecting saliva, juicy spat on the floor. Then he tore off the black blazer and microphone, Bouncing, hobbled to the exit.

He came out of the Palace Vitalik and went straight to the Mall, decorated with green trees, like the cypress paper. He didn’t know where he’s going. In my mind all mixed up and only flashes inside him, like someone else began to speak.

– You are to blame! Because you’ve wanted. All around you bowed. You’re a rich man, with medals, walked through the village. And here you heard. Only not given you a son. And you’ve seen that lad takes this rotten life. But were silent. Silence, because, I thought, even though he will live, “Luda Yak”. Silent when a doll this evil, Svyatoslav, he was married off. And when the cross for mom…

Ivan stopped, choking from the unexpected thoughts seemed to hit him.

Cross! He put the cross! Albeit late, albeit he was almost in the grave, but will put! And Yurchik take! Steal it! And you go with him, to the poor, moaning on his mother’s grave. And will be under the cross. And will ask God to one of his favorite lad spoke, and the other to come to life. Because he’s dead.

Ivan, ignoring the pain in his leg, staggered, fled through the alley between the green paper cypresses. Tears flowed from his old eyes and rolled down that old tanned face. He was crying because he knew nothing he did not succeed. Strength is not enough. They will find, and grandson will be taken away. And give it a little Yurchik in the same fake world of plastic mannequins. The tears flowed even stronger. To escape he could not. But, panting, walked and walked, not knowing where.Ian TAXOR, Facebook

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