- Lelia, and what do we have yummy? (He persistently calls grandmother by name, although I periodically try to fight this lawlessness).
- Pea soup, potatoes with herring and cakes ... - Mom winked. The son squealed with delight: herring and custard cakes are his favorite treats. I strictly demanded that they start with the soup, and went to put the tree. Anton, probably, is the only child in the world who does not like to decorate a Christmas tree. "It's pricked," he says every time I try to get him to this event. And my mother is like a little child. Maybe that's why he and Antosha are doing so well together: they communicate on an equal footing. She has long been accustomed in all matters to rely on me.
When my father left us , I was eleven years old. Since then, I became the head of our small family. I had to plan the family budget, because my mother could half-pay for some statuette or buy three cakes at once. I called a locksmith to fix the current tap, and clogged the nail to hang the mom-bought prints. But I really love my mother the way she is: kind, defenseless and unadapted to life. She is an incorrigible optimist and infects the good mood of everyone who is nearby. When I strengthened the tree in the cross, I felt that my head was starting to hurt. Probably, to change of weather. Can, at last, this slush end, and this winter will come?
I went into the kitchen to rummage around in the medicine cabinet in search of an anesthetic. Mom and Antosha were gambolingly cut into a flip-flop, alternately poking their forks into the herringbone. A large box of cakes stood empty. I said nothing: Mother can not be altered anyway, and Antoshka must have holidays of disobedience. It's enough that I keep it in an iron grip.
In the medicine cabinet, as I expected , there was no analgin or citramone. But I found my mother here a front-facing brooch and a skein of rope. When I finished work, Antosha snored sweetly on the couch, and my mother, sitting in the armchair, was reading Bunin. My head was cracking - I already felt sick with pain.
"Maybe you'll stay the night." - Looking up from reading, my mother asked.
"No, I'll go home." First, I have a lot of work to do in the morning, and secondly, I will not sleep properly on this sofa with Antoshka. And then, you have nothing from your head, and I, if I do not drink a pill, will soon come to the wall.
"How can it not be?" How is it - not from the head? - Mom almost choked with noble indignation. - Zoya brought me such a wonderful medicine for migraine! American!
"And where's your medicine?"
"It's brown on the window sill." Or in a piece of paper? No, it's still in the bottle. Precisely - in a bottle! Pouring water into the glass, I proceeded to excavate on my mother's window sill. Within five minutes, I found a brown vial of pills. I just drank two pieces just in case, kissed my mother and went to get dressed. The streets were wet with snow, and I shivered from the cold in my light jacket. The headache did not pass, but it was deadly like to sleep. This was not surprising: for the whole week I never properly slept well.
I had to go to the other end of the city, and I, without thinking twice, stepped on the side of the road and raised a hand. Sergey: At seven in the evening, when everyone went home, Igor and Gleb closed me in my office and sat down to play preference. We finished about eleven and started to go home. Still from afar, I saw a slender woman voting on the roadside. Flakes of snow fell on her uncovered head, and she stood, puffing like a sparrow. "If I drive along the road," I thought, I began to slow down. "Will you give me a ride on Gogol?" She asked.
female. I nodded. The girlfriend got a job in the back seat. "Well, right," I thought. "I do not know what kind of idiots they drive around the city!" I hoped to pass the time in conversation - it's not a long way to go. But all the way the woman was silent. She did not say a word even when we turned on Gogol. Having reached the end of a small street, and not having heard a word, I muffled the engine and asked: "What house do you need?" There was no answer. Turning on the light in the cabin, he turned back. The woman sat motionless in an uncomfortable position, throwing her head back. "Maybe it's become bad?" - I got scared, got out of the car and opened the back door. It turned out that the stranger was just asleep. I lightly touched her shoulder: "Girl, have arrived ..." No reaction. He clapped harder - it did not help. In the end, shook with all his might, but all was in vain. The woman did not even change her posture, still sitting, leaning back, and even snoring in her sleep. I decided to use the last remedy - I screamed that there was urine: "Rise!", But she continued to still sleep serenely.
There was nothing to do , and I, calling myself "sleeping beauty" by various bad words, took her to my home. When he stopped near the entrance, the clock showed half past twelve. He opened the back door and began to pull the stranger out of the car. It was not such a simple matter. Finally I managed to put it on my shoulder. But I was happy early. Slipping and trying to maintain balance, dropped his luggage directly into the mud. She did not even wake up !!! Somehow he carried it to his door and, sweating, swept him into the apartment. It was scary to look at the clothes of an uninvited guest. He shook it from his jeans, pulled off his jacket and carried it to the bed. And he himself trudged into the bathroom to wash the things of a stranger - the sooner they dry up, the sooner I will be able to get rid of this obsession. He hung his clothes on the battery, sat in the chair in front of the TV and tried to sleep.
Sleep in the armchair was extremely inconvenient. "And why, in fact, should I be tormented? - I thought with anger after another unsuccessful attempt to get comfortable. "After all, this is my home!" I went into the bedroom, blissfully stretched out on the very edge of a broad bed and fell asleep. Vera: When I woke up, it was already light in the street. She squinted at the nightstand where the clock was standing. Hours was not. However, I did not find the night tables either. But I saw wallpaper in stripes (I did not have such a kind!) And a window sill, filled with cacti. While I came to myself with surprise and tried to remember how I got into this unfamiliar room, behind my back suddenly I heard a heroic snoring. Inside, everything froze from fear. In the brain the questions swirled: where am I, how did I get here and what kind of man is next to me. Afraid to move, I began to remember yesterday. I was at work, then I took Anton to Lola, went home, hampered the private trader. As I got into the car, I still remembered, and then - a hole, a black hole. Probably, he deafened me, hitting me on the head (by the way, my head ached still), and brought me to my lair. Trying not to make the slightest noise, she rose from the bed and looked at the sleeping man. Exactly - yesterday's driver.
A vile maniac! What did he do to me while I was unconscious? I silently rushed about the apartment in search of an exit. Entrance doors are locked, no keys. She looked out the window - the first floor. On the battery, to great joy, I found my clothes, but ... it was somehow wet. I saw an iron in the kitchen. There was a good idea: "Now I will dry the jacket and jeans with an iron and climb out the window." When I, shrouded in the steam of the clubs, stroked the second leg, I suddenly heard behind my back a voice: "And could you not touch my shirt at the same time?" Sergei: Tonight we need to take Antoshka to the mother-in-law. Vera said that she wants to go with us, and asked me to drop by her to work. Do not forget to buy brewed cakes for tea. Vera: That's fate, a villain! The husband, as always, will sit down with Lelay and Antoshka in the paddling or will learn to teach these gambling gamblers to play preference. And I will have to put and decorate the tree again!