Bitter Smoke of Resentment, or Fifty Years of Solitude
The ship of life took offense and slowly sank to the bottom. In Gosha's soul, the stigma “not given!” Burned. Gosha was not interested in the fate of his children. He began to pay alimony to his daughter only when he was pressed into court. He refused to recognize his son at all. The years passed. Gosha tried to convince himself and those around him of his own well-being. He surrounded himself with luxurious things, collected a collection of expensive comfortable shoes, did not deny himself anything. But the feeling is "not enough!" did not let go.
It reduces my cheekbones with annoyance:
It seems to me what year, That where I am, life passes there, And where there is no me, it goes!
V. S. Vysotsky
Favorite restaurant in the port is open only for me today. It's good to deal with people you've known for a hundred years. They did everything as requested: snow-white tablecloths, traditional menu, a lot of everything, everything is delicious. Guests should be satisfied.
And there are many guests today. I have not forgotten anyone. Relatives, friends, work colleagues. People with whom he lived for half a century. Everyone gathered today for my anniversary …
Gosha slowly inhaled a ring of fragrant smoke and carefully extinguished the cigar. “Good tobacco! A respectable man should only smoke like that! And Gosha considered himself solid.
- Dear guests, let's welcome our beloved hero of the day! - the voice of the toastmaster was drowned out by stormy applause.
- Come on healthy!
-… He came to us, he came to us, our dear George!
Gosha was moved. How soulful it is to bring everyone together, accept congratulations, feel attention!
- The first toast by seniority is given to the grandfather of the birthday man.
Dear Anatoly Petrovich, please!
Goshin's grandfather was a really respected person. He went through the whole war, and in peacetime he taught children to think. Until his retirement, Anatoly Petrovich worked as a mathematics teacher.
And even now, at 97, he helped the neighbour's kids prepare for tests and exams.
Gosha loved his grandfather. The grandson crossed the hall and went to the chair, from which the grandfather had not got up in several years, and bowed his head.
- Goshenka, granddaughter! I remember the day you were born. My grandmother and I could not get enough of it. It is a pity that she did not live to see this solemn day … - tears prevented the grandfather from speaking.
“She was always proud of you. She and I … I … I … love you very much. Be healthy, my dear!
Gosha dumped liquid fire from the glass into himself. He liked beer more, but at the celebrations it was necessary "in an adult way." On an empty stomach, it acted with lightning speed. I remembered my grandmother and her sweet pancakes. If Gosha knew how to cry, then a mean man's tear would come out. But the peasants do not cry - he knew that.
Then dad spoke. About family values, about support and mutual assistance.
Gosha felt his fist clenching around the cold crystal. Press a little harder and stick into the skin. A sip.
“Who would talk about the family! You were never there. He appeared every six months and began to educate, teach life. What did you know about how I live ?! About how I wanted to go fishing with you, how Leshka went with his father every Sunday. I wanted your attention, that very support.
But you weren't there when I went to first grade, when I was accepted into the pioneers, not even at the prom. And the joy of your short vacations was quickly extinguished with a belt in response to my mother's complaints about my behavior.
Yes, you brought cool gifts, but then you yourself took them "for sins." An effective approach! Is that how you wanted to teach me, "what is good and what is bad"?
Gaucher felt hot, a vein puffed up in his temple.
- And now a word to the mother of the hero of the day! - the toastmaster announced a lusciously solemnly.
- Son, how big you are! - further Gosha did not hear, nausea came to his throat.
Mom was over seventy, but all her life she was "young", which terribly infuriated Gosha. Mom loved bright jewelry and colorful scarves. And she even cut her hair short after divorcing her dad. She also wanted stability and attention, a man's shoulder and a warm body on a daily basis, and not "on holidays."
Several years after the divorce, she rushed from relationship to relationship, almost broke the family, "twisting" with her married, but then finally calmed down, apparently finding the long-awaited. True, the new one was unemployed, but this did not bother her. She opened her own business and brought money to the house herself. But the new husband ran the house impeccably - he washed, washed, bought, cooked. You could go to a concert with him or go on vacation together.
The children grew up, and my mother gladly gave herself up to her personal life. Gosha did not share this joy. This was another blow to his values. Everything in life went wrong. Initially.
… Gosha was the firstborn. The parents were young. Dad went on flights for six months. Mom was torn between work and child, was burdened by the household and forced loneliness. Gosha disappeared with his grandparents who lived around the corner. They fed him, did homework with him, took him on vacation.
But every evening he waited for his mother from work. He knew that she would no longer have the strength for a fairy tale and, falling asleep, it would be impossible to hold her hand, he would only have to listen to how she fussed in the kitchen or ironed the linen under the TV turned on.
He knew that if he waited long, dad would come. Tanned, unshaven, with a bunch of gifts and all kinds of exotic gizmos. Dad will throw it into the air, say: "Hello, little man!" - and goes with my mother to the kitchen to drink tea, and then closes in the bedroom.
Everything as usual. Habitual and stable. Familiar and predictable. When you don’t know what is possible differently, you rejoice in what is.
And everything would have been fine if Gosha had not had a brother. It happened just when it was time to go to first grade. It was very exciting. Gosha could not sleep for a long time, called his mother, but the baby was crying behind the wall. Dad, as always, was not there.
It was a shame. But it was even more offensive to go to school on the first of September with a neighbor's Lesha. The whole family saw him off, but no one could go with Gosha. So a new life began. "Adult". This is what the parents said. After all, now Gosha was not only a schoolboy, but also an older brother …
- Brother! A fifty-kopeck piece is cool! You are a hammer, keep it up!
Gosha winced. My head was buzzing. Having mechanically swallowed the "cold one", he thought bitterly: "You yourself … the hammer … that crumbled my life … With your appearance everything went downhill. Small, restless, you constantly climbed somewhere, grabbed something, broke, fell, cried. You stole the last crumbs of my mother's attention from me. You were cunning and managed to frame me every time. You screwed up and fouled, and whipped me."
For brotherly love, Gosh drank in a daze. A pungent veil covered his eyes and burned in his chest. With every sip of "bitter" inside, a poisonous lump of grievances pressed over the years seemed to melt. This poison was spreading through the veins, fingering the already not dormant memory.
… The hall was buzzing. The air smelled of snacks and alcohol. Toastmaster conscientiously fulfilled the fee, entertaining guests and announcing toasts. But with each new sip, Gosha felt more and more a stranger at his own holiday. And endlessly lonely.
- Georgy, where are you going? Now there will be a performance by your wife! - heard Gosha, leaving the hall.
- Yes, I hear these performances every day, I found something to surprise! She's running around like a madman, constantly tugging at me, always demanding something, screaming. When I bought a dog for myself, I was afraid that the dog would interfere with its neighbors with its barking. So the dog is an angel - quiet, obedient. But the wife barks incessantly.
Gosha went out into the yard and lit a cigarette. It was already getting light. Someone stole expensive cigars on the sly, I had to shoot some nasty stuff at the waiter. My mouth was bitter. But it was even more bitter for myself.
The long-awaited holiday turned into a cruel torture. The years passed seemed like a rare collection of injustices. The offense was so strong that it pressed to the ground. Gosha sat down heavily in a wicker chair, sighed heavily and closed his eyes.
- And Lech, bastard, did not come! A friend is called! His third son was born … - flashed through the tired brain.
… Gosha also had a son. There was also a daughter. But he never lived with them.
The first time he married a girl whom he was introduced to by the same friend Lesha. There was no love, but it was inconvenient to let my friend down.
The young wife seemed to Gaucher to be sloppy and lazy. He taught her, "unlucky", to live. It did not come to assault. She escaped from Gosha's school of life with a tiny daughter in her arms.
The second was, on the contrary, too good. Beautiful, smart, economic. Feminine and sensual. And Gosha felt! For the first time in my life.
She wanted a meaningful relationship, serious, real. And I did everything for this. She even sacrificed her career for Gosha, covering the rear and giving him the opportunity to get a higher education. But realizing that there would be no good, she left, taking Gosha's son under her heart.
She was the perfect wife. But she had to correspond, to keep the brand. Otherwise, next to her, he felt like a complete insignificance. It didn't work to be perfect. Gosha did not know how to bear responsibility, care, provide. Loving is work, it is an act of bestowal. And how to give when you yourself are not enough! The pain accumulated in childhood was too great.
Gosha's mental device program is a family. As the basis of the foundations, the main value, the core and the reference point. The perception of the world is like a pharmaceutical scale: everything should be even and equal.
The balance has been disturbed more than once. Parents were not around - there was a bias, the gifts brought by my father were taken away "for educational purposes" - still a bias. The birth of a brother is a complete lurch.
The ship of life took offense and slowly sank to the bottom. In Gosha's soul, the stigma “not given!” Burned.
Gosha was not interested in the fate of his children. He began to pay alimony to his daughter only when he was pressed into court. He refused to recognize his son at all.
The years passed. Gosha tried to convince himself and those around him of his own well-being. He surrounded himself with luxurious things, collected a collection of expensive comfortable shoes, did not deny himself anything. But the feeling is "not enough!" did not let go.
… Gosha opened his eyes. Guests were walking behind us, a hurricane was walking in my soul. During the night, the aged man got up heavily from his chair, went down the steps and slowly wandered towards the river.
The sun has already risen. It was quiet on the shore. And only on the pier, father and son laid out fishing rods, sorted the tackle. Then the man helped the boy put on a windbreaker, took a thermos from his backpack and poured tea into mugs. The boy was telling something animatedly, his father was listening, smiling …
The playful June sun shamelessly shone on his face, but Gosha could not take his eyes off the figures on the pier. He stood breathless. Tears rolled down my cheeks …
