Until I was eighteen, I always met the New Year with my parents. Then the most magical night of the year was spent in the company of close friends. But three years ago she firmly decided: no friendly gatherings. Although my friends and excellent guys, but from them it's not like a miracle - you will not even get a big surprise. I know in advance how everything will be. Lera will try to defeat the company with an avant-garde outfit, Irka will flirt with all the males to quarrel with her hyperphlegmatic Tolik, Kostya will consistently go through all the stages of intoxication, first telling bearded jokes, then pronouncing lengthy monologues in English, and finally fall under the table and fall asleep there in a sweet sleep.
"Let the guys take offense at me as much as they like," I thought, "but this year they will have fun without me." Can I remember my childhood and meet the New Year with my parents? I well remember what wonderful Holidays (just like that, with a capital letter) they arranged for me. Fir tree to the ceiling, and under it - a bright box tied with a ribbon, which was necessarily what I most dreamed of. In my childhood all this was the most real miracle. And now...
Let my beloved old people forgive me , but today this is not enough for me. So - forward, in search of the Blue Bird! It is easy to say "forward". But where exactly? If someone had thrown an idea ... "Okay," I decided, "it's all, of course, good, but it would be nice to think about more prosaic things. For example - about dinner, or else the stomach is already starving. " She turned on the radio and began to beat the eggs with an omelette. Yes, and froze: a bowl in one hand, a fork - in the other.
- "... Want a miracle on New Year's Eve?" - asked a man's voice.
I turned to the receiver and responded with ardor: "I really want to!"
- "Then we are waiting for you in our club for a masquerade. Applications are accepted ... "
"What club?" - I howled. "Just tell me the phone number, goat!"
- "... to the address ... Our phone ..." - heard my pleas radio masseur. In vain did I call him a goat. Forgetting about the omelet and my brutal hunger, I went to call.
- Night club "Behemoth", - mumbled a girl's voice.
- I'm about the application for the New Year.
- How many people? - the girl asked in an official tone.
- I'm alone ... So it is possible or you only ... The voice of the invisible interlocutor instantly lost its officiality: "Why not? Of course it is possible..."
- And how much will it be?
- Five hundred and fifty hryvnia.
If I could whistle a little, I would definitely whistle. And so only a pause tightened slightly.
- It will be very interesting, - as if sensing my hesitation, the girl hastened to inform. - We have a wonderful DJ. And the program will be super! Come, you will not regret. Yes, quite forgot to say: all guests should be in fancy dress. This is a mandatory requirement.
I silently digested the information.
- Please, our club is very popular. Another day or two, and we will not accept applications ... - the girl tempted.
- Thank you. I think a little, "I said, and hung up.
"Five hundred and fifty hryvnia! Wow! And the fancy dress is unknown, how much will it be, "I reflected. I was put off two hundred dollars - I saved it for buying sheepskin coats.
Mentally put on one scales of the ghostly possibility of a miracle for another - almost tangible in reality, short, trimmed with fur on the hem and hood (necessarily green, under the color of the eyes) sheepskin coat. He outweighed the long-awaited sheepskin coat. Well why life always puts me in front of the need to choose! or or? Why do the others have one, and two, and a third, and I ... I decided to get distracted from sad thoughts, turned on the TV. There was an old film "The Bat". As if by order, to wake up my doubts again in my soul. Masquerade is the catalyst of Miracles. The main heroine again fell in love with her own husband, the servant Adele fulfilled her cherished dream - she became an actress, and in general ...
I resolutely picked up the phone and dialed the number. "Night club" Behemoth ", - heard a familiar voice.
- Girl, it's me again. When can I get behind the invitation? So, discarding the fluctuations, I went to the recorded address and exchanged one hundred dollars for a bright card of the entrance ticket. Now another question was on the agenda: a fancy dress.
I'm not a dressmaker , but ordering in a studio is too expensive. Maybe you can rent somewhere? Eureka! Katya, the sister of my classmate, works as a costumier at the theater.
Without delay, I went to work for her: "Katyusha, save!"
- So, what do we have? .. To "Swan", to "Giselle" ... Do you want a pack?
I definitely did not want to pack. Katya continued the inventory of the props: "This is for Onegin, it's for Godunov ..." Rural honor, "" Faust "... What, nothing like it?" I shrugged. Not because I did not like anything, but just my eyes fled from this magnificence. Katya interpreted the gesture in her own way:
"Noodoo ... The darn old stuff." We have new suits ... To the premiere of "Rigoletto" sewed. Do you want me to show you? The first dress dazzled me. Has tried on. It sat like a glove.
"Can I have it?" - pleading I said, and for the sake of persuasiveness added, pressing her hands to her chest: - Do not be afraid, I'm neat and tidy!
Katya was silent.
"I'll leave the pledge," I fussed and climbed into my purse.
You take it thirty-first, and you take it first to my house. Bear in mind: if something happens to the dress, I will be immediately fired. Do you understand? I nodded, still unable to believe in such luck. This dress is simply obliged to attract the Miracle, like a magnet. It in itself is already a small miracle. On December 31, at half past nine in the evening, I was completely ready for a march-throw after the Blue Bird. The high hairstyle opening my forehead made me look like a real duchess. With satisfaction for the last time having examined myself in the mirror, I took a step towards the door and ... "Here's the bald! - In annoyance, she knocked herself on the forehead. - How can I get to the club in this form? "Thank God, it was almost immediately possible to call a taxi by phone.
Soon the bell rang : "Come out. The car is already at the entrance. " The taxi with the required number was within sight, but not at the entrance, as I was informed. To drive up to the very entrance, you need to make a hefty detour, wandering between the houses, and on foot - only about fifteen or twenty meters: past trash bins in a sloppy wasteland. The driver, a young fellow, smoking with a displeased face near the car. I left the entrance and hesitantly stomped on the curb, not daring to step into the mud slime. The guy threw a cigarette butt, turned in my direction and ... - Wait !!! He shouted as if he were trying to stop the departing train. "I'll come to you right now!" A few minutes later, squealing with brakes, the taxi stopped a meter from me. The driver jumped out of the car. Before opening the door to me, he said quietly: "It does not happen like this." I still did not understand what this phrase was about, but for some reason it became unusually warm and pleasant. We clubed for the club in twenty minutes. After settling, I got out of the car. "Should I pick you up in the morning?" The taxi driver called out. I glanced around the Mercedes cars parked beside him, "BMW Volvo" guests of the club. A great New Year's Miracle, which I expected, certainly included the fact that I will go home on one of these foreign cars. "Do not," I said, and headed for the fairy-tale entrance to the Tale. Singles, like me, were few here. Basically - couples and small companies.
But soon the guests were confused , and it was already impossible to determine who had come with whom. DJ in the club was really wonderful, the tables were bursting with delicacies, funny jokes were replaced by pleasant surprises in the form of performances by artists and big fireworks. Three of them showed me signs of attention: a tall man in the costume of Mephistopheles, a Roman emperor in scarlet toga and a handsome, handsome Viking. All three of them vying to invite me to dance, make exquisite compliments and talked about their flourishing businesses. I was at a loss: I could not decide which of them to give preference. "The most cheerful and erudite - no doubt, Mephistopheles," decided, at last. "We'll stop on it!"
But soon emerged a small, but extremely unpleasant detail. When I danced with the charming Satan, he always glanced sideways at the Snow Queen. He will embrace me and look at her. A compliment will whisper in my ear - and again shoot my eyes in her direction.
"Typically Irkin variant", - thought and switched to the Viking, whose bare torso from the very beginning made a very good impression on me. Viking was called purely Scandinavian - Vasya. Basil was all good, except for a trifle: too often he was applied to a glass of brandy. In the third hour of the night he was already quite unsteady on his feet, so, sitting me beside him, began to poison old and surprisingly unconvicted jokes. At three he, to my chagrin, disconnected and fell asleep, dropping his head on the table, missing a plate with a crab salad just a few centimeters. "Why, why is it so unlucky for me?"
- I was ready to burst into tears of grief. Caesar approached me. By the way, sober as a glass. I looked hopefully at him and thought: "Maybe it's my great New Year's Miracle that is acquainted with him?"
"Is a beautiful stranger bored?" I mocked the banal phrase, but I still smiled and nodded.
"Now I'll cheer you up," the Emperor promised, took out an object from the folds of his toga and with a shout of "Hurray!" ... The clapper fell off right above my ear, filling the confetti with the dessert I held in my hands. One of the vile paper circles through the slit of the mask hit me right in the eye. I blinked and rubbed my eyes with my fist. The pseudo-Romanian snapped in a bad voice and took out a new cracker. The crippled eye began to water. From under the mask on the left cheek a tear crept, then - on the right. What was strange: this eye is not confetti.
I looked around. The people were having fun, and nobody cares about me. The miracle did not work. Trying not to attract attention, I slipped out into the street. Hiding my frozen fingers under my armpits, I ran past a number of foreign cars to the road where I could catch a private trader. The extreme machine in the row was not any foreign car, but rather beaten by the "Volga" with checkers on the scallop. She looked in the salon. The guy who brought me here slept in the front seat. I charged in the glass. The guy opened his eyes, turned his head and repeated his mysterious phrase: "It does not happen."
"Will you take me home?"
The guy got out of the car, threw open the door, and when I got into the car, suddenly kissed me on the cheek unexpectedly: "Happy New Year, Princess." Do you still believe that miracles happen? And I already know for sure: how else! And most often in a magical New Year's Eve. So what if Dima is an ordinary taxi driver, not a producer or a Dutch millionaire? Anyway, our meeting was a real Miracle. And for me, and for him. Because love is always a Miracle. The greatest of all possible miracles!