Ivanov finished dinner, ate, then jumped outside, got into a Toyota and drove to the next street.
He stopped near a large solid timber house. Against the background of the Barsukov huts, this house, surrounded by a high wooden fence, looked like a princess among beggars.
One of the few non-drinking and hardworking Barsukov families lived here. Widows raised sheep and kept few horses. Ivan constantly bought mutton, sheep's cheese and horse meat products from them.
The owner of the house answered the knock on the gate. The eternally smiling guy just looked Kazakh. Black-browed, black-haired, thin and wiry, with wide cheekbones. He didn't drink alcohol, he was married to a nice Russian girl, with whom he had three children. In fact, he is already from the second generation of Privates who grew up in Russia. Because of this, only a touch of upbringing, appearance and a crowd of distant relatives remained in him.
"Oh, oh," he said happily. - Who do I see! Ivan, hello. Are you after the meat?
"Hello, Aslan," Ivanov firmly shook the outstretched hand. "Not today. I still have a fridge full of meat and basturma. I'm on another matter.
- It's already interesting, - Aslan's face showed keen interest and curiosity. "I'm listening carefully."
- I saw your sister on TV today...
Aslan covered his eyes with his palm. "It's a shame... No one expected this from her. But Saule worked as a doctor, which is a respected profession. And then suddenly she went to Moscow and started joking around. The parents are shocked. They don't know how to tell her that a decent girl shouldn't be doing something like that.
- By the way, she's joking fine. You shouldn't have done that.
"Really?" Ledges raised his eyebrows in surprise. - At least it pleases. So what did you want to discuss?
- You see, Aslan, I've been in love with Saule since school. But she disappeared from the horizon, and I tried not to think about her. For many years, we have been able to cope with this quite successfully... Until today, until I saw your sister on TV. I realized that it couldn't go on like this anymore. I want to see her not on the screen, but at home with my wife.
- Wow! Aslan's lips spread wide. - Brother, I myself will be glad to see you as my relative. You can't imagine how happy your parents will be! They had already despaired of attending their daughter's wedding. They thought that they would never see grandchildren from her, and the dowry would rot to hell. Do you want to woo?
- I would like to, but you are not from a Kazakh village, but highly respected residents of the Chelyabinsk region.
- You're right there, - thoughtfully ran his palm over the smooth chin of the Ledges. - We are completely Russified, we don't even know the Kazakh language. If they lived in Kazakhstan, then Saule would not have dared to utter a peep, as she would have married. And then our parents gave us complete freedom of implementation.
- Aslan, I need your help.
"As much as I can, brother...
- I want to go to Moscow and try to persuade Saule to marry using classical methods. Can you help me?
"You're asking!" - Ledges happily gave out. - Of course, I will help you in any way I can. What exactly do you need from me?
- For starters, your sister's address and phone number.
***
Two days later, a white Toyota Mark 2 parked in a Moscow courtyard near the Vodny Stadion metro station. On the right side is the courtyard of the school with a playground. To the left was a beige five-story building that had seen better days.
Ivanov was very worried. Knowing the entrance number, floor and apartment of Saule's residence, he was afraid to come to her house.
That's how a decent person can come to visit without warning? Let's say he comes, rings the bell, Saule opens the door, and he's like, 'Hello, I lived in the same village with you and went to the same school. Here, receive the guest."
They lived together in a previous life, but now, in fact, they are unfamiliar people. Even though Vanya knows a lot about his wife, she remembers him only as a classmate.
Nevertheless, there was a formal reason for the visit. Vanya took care of this in advance, along with Aslan, who passionately wished his sister a happy family life. And the Russified Kazakh saw happiness in a wealthy husband for his sister. For all the Badgers, such men can be counted on the fingers of one hand, but only Ivanov is single and the wealthiest of them.
With a trembling hand, Vanya took out his cell phone, found the phone number of the Ledge and froze, looking at the screen. He couldn't make up his mind to make the call. Ten seconds later, the screen went blank, and he was still sitting with the phone clenched in his sweaty palm.
Taking a deep breath, as if before jumping into an ice hole, he unlocked the phone again and pressed the call button.
I had to listen to the long beeps for a long time, but eventually a pleasant and painfully familiar female voice answered:
- Hello, I'm listening.
- Saule, good morning. This is Ivan Ivanov from Badgers.
"Uh.".. - She said, confused. - Ivan? A classmate or something?
"I'm glad you found out. I came to the capital on business. Aslan asked me to give you some gifts from home. I'm standing at the entrance of your house at the Water Stadium right now. Are you at home?
"Yes, while I'm at home," she replied in a collected voice. "Go up to the third floor. Apartment sixty-nine. The intercom code is zero-three-two-seven.
"I'll be right there."
Climbing the stairs to the third-floor landing, he discovered that the door to apartment sixty-nine was ajar. She was standing on the threshold, young and charming, but a little gloomy Saule. She was dressed casually in black breeches and a navy blue tank top. On her feet were fluffy brown slippers in the shape of teddy bears.
- Good morning, Saule. You look great. This is for you.
The girl, raising her eyebrows in amazement, accepted a magnificent bouquet of peonies from her classmate's hands.
"Peonies?" - she commented in surprise. - My favorite flowers... How did you find out?
"You guessed right," Ivanov said, his eyes twinkling slyly.
It's hard not to guess the favorite flowers of a girl with whom I've lived side by side for thirty years.
The widow continued to stand on the threshold, blocking the doorway.
"H-hmm... So what did my brother ask me to tell you?
"Here," Ivan handed her the package. - There are meat products from Aslan's farm. And this is from me," he held out the cake.
The girl had to go into the hallway and put a bouquet and a bag of sweets from her brother on the bedside table. Then she returned to the guest and took the cake, after which she said:
- Thank you, goodbye.
Ivan was quite surprised. This was not the meeting he had expected. At least it's indecent and not in Russian, and not even in Kazakh. An acquaintance comes from afar with presents, and they culturally send him to hell.
"Aren't you even going to offer me tea?" Nevertheless, I drove all night from Chelyabinsk.
A lively facial expression made it clear to the guest that he was not welcome. Saule expressed her annoyance so openly, tightly pursing her lips, lowering their corners and bringing her eyebrows together, that Ivanov felt uncomfortable. In another situation, he would have been offended, turned around and never talked to such an ungrateful person again. But he did not do this, because he was going to his wife, aiming to get to know her again with the desire to create a family unit again.
The annoyance on Ledge's face lasted for three seconds, after which the wrinkles smoothed out, and she reluctantly said:
- Well, come on in. But only for tea! I know people like that... First, let's have some tea, then there's nowhere to spend the night.
Saule's words cut my soul worse than a katana. They were screwed into Ivan's ears like hefty screws. He was shocked, not expecting such a sharply hostile attitude, as if he were a homeless man poking around in a garbage can.
"Yogurt into my soul for the sake of lube," he continued, hiding his resentment behind a joking tone. - Saule, who bit you? I remember you as a kind and helpful girl. Or is it Moscow that affects people so much?
A curious pretty blonde face in shorts and a T-shirt appeared behind the Ledge. A brunette in sweatpants and a wide plaid shirt peeked out into the hallway behind her. They warmed their ears curiously, glancing at their roommate.
- But I live in Moscow, not in Zazhopinsk! - Ledge spoke out hot-tempered. "Will you have some tea?"
Vanya wanted to politely decline tea. Even more, I wanted to cover the esteemed 'spouse' with obscenities and point out the inadmissibility of such a manner of conversation. But he said something else, smiling politely.:
- Thank you, My dear, I won't refuse. Also, if it's okay, I'll use the bathroom. I'm not asking for an overnight stay. Otherwise, we Barsukovskys, in our Zazhopinsk, disdain to embarrass poor ladies who have to huddle on each other's heads.
Saule pursed her lips like a chicken's tail and defiantly crossed her arms over her chest, showing with her whole appearance that the guest was not welcome here. But she allowed Vanya to go to the toilet and silently turned on the kettle.
When he came out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, there was an oppressive silence. The neighbors preferred to lock themselves in their room, not interfering with the Ledge to receive a guest.
- Saule, seriously, why are you so unhappy? We haven't seen each other since high school for ten years. I never seemed to offend you, I didn't say anything bad, I didn't even bite your side like a spinning top.
- Yes, you got it! She exploded.
"Us?" Ivanov raised his eyebrows in amazement. - Who are 'we'?
"YOU! All of you! - she replied with emphasis. - After I became famous, everyone I know tries to get something from me!
- And what do I want to get from you, besides the usual hospitality for our man? Ivan's irony broke through.
- I don't know, but you all need something...
"Yeah, you're probably right.
"So I'm right?" - Ledge grinned predatorily and was somehow unkindly pleased.
"You're right, Saule. I needed something from you, too...
- Here! She happily held up her right index finger. "I told you!" And what do you want?
- I wanted to... I wanted to invite you somewhere, like an Italian restaurant. Remember your youth, have a heart-to-heart conversation and just chat like good old friends.
"What?" - She was taken aback.
Pulling out a stool, the girl sat down on it and stared at the guest in disbelief.
- You see, Saule, it so happened that I liked you once. For nine long years after returning from the army, I lived with the idea that it would be nice to confess my warm feelings to you. But I was afraid to do something wrong, to start communicating with the wrong person.
The girl listened to Ivan's revelations with polite interest. He continued calmly:
- Let's face it: in childhood and adolescence, we didn't communicate much with each other. A completely different image of Saule Ledge has been preserved in my head. A gentle, kind and responsive girl. Cheerful, a little sarcastic and ironic, but hospitable and caring.
In fact, he was describing his wife as he remembered her, not a schoolgirl he hadn't really talked to.
- Frankly speaking, My dear, I saw a completely different person. But I dare to hope that I was mistaken. Everyone has a bad mood. If you don't want to see me now, we could see each other later, go to a nice place.
"No, thank you," the Ledge died away. "I get it.".. You're hitting on me!
- You could say that. Do you mind?
- Against it! She said sharply. - I have a young man. He's a Muscovite. I don't want to talk to some country boy! Is that clear?"
Ivan felt the girl's words as bloody wounds on his soul. She had no idea how much she was killing him. The corners of his eyes stung, but he held back the tears, because men don't cry. That's what his foster father taught him, who became closer to his family, whom he had never heard of. He taught me to be a man, not a wimp.
With every moment of being in the company of this Saule, he liked her less and less. She was not that sweet and kind girl, gentle and caring wife. In front of him sat an arrogant and mercenary bitch.
He didn't understand how this could happen. After all, only three and a half years separated their acquaintance in this and another life. Is it possible for a person to change so dramatically in such a short period of time, having fallen into other conditions? Or is it the way people are influenced by their surroundings and fame?
- I'm sorry, what?! - Vanya found the strength to look directly at the girl.
- I'm saying that I have a boyfriend! I'm not going to meet with some kind of badger bastard. Is that clearer?
- Am I fucked up?! Ivan was taken aback.
He scrutinized his appearance. The clothes are new and clean, not wrinkled, even if they are not fancy. But he shouldn't have come in a tailcoat, should he? At least it's not his usual everyday robe, which is covered in oil and grease stains. Very decent blue jeans from Levice, an ironed blue shirt and an expensive dark blue double-knit sweater from a boutique from a brand that prefers not to flaunt a huge nameplate, but puts a small and inconspicuous icon in the lower left corner. Running his hand over his chin, he found no stubble. My head is clean, my hair is combed.
He couldn't figure out what was wrong? It's packed for a thousand dollars and it doesn't stink. After all, in fact, he did not drive all night, but arrived in the capital late at night. He spent the night at the hotel and cleaned himself up before coming here: he washed, shaved, brushed his teeth and put on new clothes.
- yes! - Ledge continued hotly, thereby finishing off Ivan.
He slowly set aside his glass and started to get up from the table.
"Thank you to this house for the bread and salt," he nodded politely, restraining the rage and terrible resentment bubbling in his chest. "No matter how salty people are here," he said sarcastically, "it's time to know the honor." Peace be upon this house. Happiness to the owners. It was nice to see you, my dear, but it's time for me to return to my barn on fifty acres of land, with a dozen apartments in Chelyabinsk and zachukhansk shares of Microsoft, in order to continue to drag out a miserable life of rentier...
He strode out of the kitchen with long strides. Slipping on his shoes under the ironic gaze of Ledge, he continued with bitter irony, which he hid under sharp sarcasm.:
- You're completely overindulged in Moscow, if you consider an outfit for a piece of bucks to be zachuchansky, yogurt on your lips, my dear! I have the honor!
He quickly left the apartment under the curious gazes of the neighbors, who couldn't contain their interest and looked out into the hallway. The widow watched him go with a puzzled look.
The blonde gave the brunette her expert opinion:
- Saule is completely overindulged! A guy in levis, Baldini shoes, and a Hugo sweater gave her a bouquet of flowers for a third of my salary... If he's fucked up for her, then who's normal for her?
- No, it's okay! - the brunette sneered. - Rent a room for ten grand, and turn your nose up at a normal guy... At least she introduced us to him. I wouldn't mind a guy like that. Let's say in Chelyabinsk, but dudes with ten huts and Microsoft shares are not lying on the road... Hey, Saule, give me this guy's number!
Saule's ears turned red from the gossip of the neighbors. She answered them sharply:
- Go to jo...
***
Wrapping his jacket around himself as he walked, Ivan descended the stairs with gusty steps, taking one step at a time. The cats were scratching at my soul. He was in excruciating pain and ashamed of his lack of restraint. It seemed as if the world had suddenly collapsed into the abyss. For the second time in his new life, Ivan wanted to get drunk and forget himself.
But he was glad he hadn't said everything he thought. For example, he was tempted to share the most intimate things with Saule, to tell her that he was like in the movie "Quantum Leap" in the past. And in the future, which did not come, he and Saule were married and happily married. That they had many children and grandchildren. But he didn't say it, he restrained himself, which made him incredibly happy. An unpleasant experience with slut Baranova taught him not to share such important information with anyone.
The frosty air sobered him up a bit. Vanya hurried to zip up his jacket and put on his hat. February turned out to be cold today, and the gusty wind added unpleasant sensations.
As if playing along with his mood, the sky was covered with leaden clouds. The snow was about to fall off him.
Looking at the heavy skies hanging low over his head, the desire to get drunk and forget intensified.
Despite the bad weather and the cold, an old woman was sitting on a bench near the entrance. She alone knows why she wasn't afraid of getting cold. But for Vanya, she became a guiding light to the place where alcohol was sold.
- Dear lady, I'm terribly sorry, but this is the first time I've been brought to this part of Moscow. Would you be so kind as to tell me where to find the nearest grocery store?
The old lady perked up and paid Ivanov a little interest.
- You should go further along the road through the courtyard. Behind the trash cans that stand in front of the chapel, turn right and walk straight through. There's a store in that nine-story building over there," she pointed to the northwest.
- I express my respect to you, my dear. You've helped me out a lot. Good luck and good health to you. Take care of yourself and your loved ones.
- You're welcome, - a joyful smile spread on the old woman's face. - Are you from Leningrad or something? He's a very polite young man.
"No, My Lady." From Chelyabinsk. Politeness is determined not by the place of residence, but by upbringing and attitude towards others. Thanks again.
Vanya got into the car and drove through the yards along the indicated route. He was going to buy alcohol, rent a hotel, and get drunk until he screamed like a pig. Alone, so as not to blurt out too much to anyone and not do stupid things that are easy to commit in his unstable emotional state.
A small shop was located at the end of the nine-story building, as indicated by a sign above the front door. After parking, Vanya went inside.
The store was not impressive in its size. Most likely, it was converted from a studio apartment. The only room turned into a retail space. The kitchen is probably used as a warehouse. Most of the space is occupied by shelves and counters. There was a small space for visitors, where three or four people could stand.
A young girl with a sad face was standing behind the counter. Brown hair hung below his shoulders. The rounded face without a drop of makeup was cute and real, not the ones you see around you, hidden under kilograms of makeup. Where necessary, the curves of the figure were pleasing to the eye. And although it couldn't be said that she had a wasp waist, the tongue wouldn't turn to call a girl full either. The only thing that really caught my eye was my grandmother's huge round horn-rimmed glasses with unrealistically thick diopters.
"Your Honor," Ivanov politely addressed her. - Be kind enough to give me a good vodka, high-quality smoked sausage, a sliced loaf, a bag of orange juice and a jar of pickles.
The saleswoman slowly collected the order. Ivanov noted that she squints very hard, trying to make out labels with price tags and names. It was too much for the owner of such powerful diopters, as the eternal bespectacled man could judge from his own experience.
There were no other visitors anyway, as well as other strangers, including a carriage and a small cart. He didn't hesitate to ask:
- Madam, I'm sorry if it's none of my business, but I noticed that the glasses don't fit you. And this is at diopters three times fatter than mine. I think you should see a doctor.
"I already have.".. The saleswoman sighed sadly, causing her magnificent breasts to rise, lifting her sweater like an icebreaker cutting through the ice.
"Already?" Didn't they give you other glasses?
- It's already useless, - it was obvious that the girl was boiling over and she was ready to share her problems with the first person she met. - I was told that I was losing my eyesight. If I don't have surgery soon, I'll go completely blind.
- I'm sorry, but why are you delaying? My eyesight is not to be trifled with.
"Because," she continued with genuine anguish, "in ordinary hospitals, to put it mildly, they sent me far away. The treatment was offered only at a private eye clinic. I need an operation, and they asked for as much as eighty thousand rubles for it!
- So much for free medicine... Don't you have any friends who can lend money?
- Yes, somehow all the friends suddenly turned into acquaintances, it was worth asking them for money to borrow, - she spread her hands with a sad look. - My parents collected what they could, but it's a drop in the bucket. I'm fifty thousand short. I had to go to Moscow to work. I figured that if I saved a lot, I could save fifteen thousand a month. I hope that I will have time to save up the necessary amount before I go blind.
In the tone in which this was said, there was a hint of pent-up despair and empty hope.
Suddenly, Vanya found his problems far-fetched and not worth a damn.
A grudge against a girl who doesn't know him? Saula is no one to him in this life. He didn't give a damn about her. I haven't seen him for nine years and I'm ready not to see him all my life. This is not his wife, but a stranger who, by the mockery of the universe, has the same appearance and name.
People have worse problems than the mental anguish of the Barsukov purchase. A beautiful young girl can remain blind for the rest of her life. All she needs is some money. That's where the tragedy is, not this whole mess with feelings.
Vanya felt so sorry for the girl that he thought: 'Am I a trembling creature, what right do I have?'
"Reverend Lady, may I ask your name?"
- My name is Natasha.
Looking at the cute dimples on her cheeks and hearing the shy tone with which the girl gave her name, Ivanov was touched.
"It's a beautiful name. Let me introduce myself. Ivanov, Ivan Ivanovich. And it's not a joke. And if it's a joke, it's not mine.
Natasha smiled sweetly. Meanwhile, Vanya continued:
- Natasha, where are you from?
- From the village of Kremenskaya. This is in the Volgograd region.
- That's what I see, the accent is familiar! I served in Volgograd and lived there for a while. It's a nice city, but it's very hot. In summer, it feels like the devil himself is roasting you in the oven. I'm from the village of Barsuki in the Chelyabinsk region. Having such a hot summer is nonsense. If a couple of days fall out, then this is rather an exception to the rule.
"So you're from the village too?" Natasha was delighted. - Did you come to work too?
- no. I'm just passing through Moscow. A fellow villager asked me to give a relative some goodies. But they met me with hostility, they didn't even offer me tea. It is unlikely that I will continue to fulfill such requests. No one even said thank you, but they poured slop so much that it made my heart ache. However, why am I complaining? Natasha, do you mind if we switch to you?
- no. It's even more familiar to me. I feel like an old woman. So what, you drove a bunch of kilometers, handed over a package, and they didn't even thank you?
"Imagine that. I'm shocked. And we were in the same class with this man. And they slapped yogurt across my lips from the doorway. But let's not talk about it. Natasha, please listen to my proposal with full seriousness. Quit your job, pack your things and come with me to Chelyabinsk. I'll pay for the operation.
"What?" - she froze in a stupor.
- It's not good when the problem is easily solved, but a person can become disabled. I will help you with the treatment.
- But... Moisture began to swell in the corners of Natasha's eyes. - Why would you... Do you like this? We don't even know each other.
- We already know each other. Natasha, don't get me wrong. I don't need anything from you, no matter what you think of yourself. It's just that at a certain point, a person comes to realize that inner peace of mind is expensive. Consider it a donation from a stranger.
"A donation?" - she drawled in a questioning tone, as if she did not understand the meaning of the word.
- Donation, voluntary contribution, help from the bottom of my heart. Call it what is more convenient.
- I still don't understand why someone needs to help a completely unknown girl.
- Natasha, with all due respect, it's easy to understand. I just can and want to help you. I want and I can! If that's not enough, then imagine: years will pass, and I'll remember the girl I could have helped, but I passed by, like many before me. And my conscience will torment me. This way, I'll do a good deed and indulge my sense of self-greatness. There will be peace and harmony in my soul. And this is very useful for maintaining mental health. In general, go ahead. I swear I won't hurt you!
- But why Chelyabinsk?
"Where should I take you?" To Volgograd? In Chelyabinsk, I have savings, acquaintances, and a house nearby. There's a good private eye clinic there, too. And in Volgograd and Moscow, alas, I can't help in any way.
- But where will I live there?
And even though Natasha was asking questions, it was obvious from her that the girl agreed to everything. She felt a taste of hope. Real hope, not the self-hypnosis she was trying to console herself with. If you have to warm a strange man's bed for that...
Natasha is easy to understand. Anyone who finds themselves in a situation where one of the most important parts of the body is at stake will be ready to do anything to preserve it. Mentally, she had already agreed and accepted the fact that for the sake of health, she would have to try.
At the same time, Vanya had no such thoughts. He was really thinking what he was saying.
- I agree! Natasha gasped.
For some reason, it seemed to Vanya that this sounded very ambiguous. It was as if the girl was agreeing almost to the conclusion of a marriage contract. He calmed himself with the thoughts that seemed to be there.
He didn't buy vodka or cucumbers. Instead, I took a bottle of water and cheese for the trip.
I felt warm at the thought that, despite the fact that he was not white and fluffy, he still remained a good person. And let Saule run yogurt over his lips!