Code of honor. Storybook. Nicolay Vladimirovich Lakutin

it, on the way back will take away, next day. Then you will go to it in your free time. The car will give, but not immediately. Have you forgotten how to drive?»

      "I'll make up for it," I said happily.

      ***

      I was brought to a backwoods village, to an old house at an angle.

      The guys dropped me off, gave me a sheet in his hands, which was a photo and below information.

      "It's your mother," said a familiar bald man, "you talked until the morning hours at nine tomorrow will take you."

      The car left, and I carefully entered the old house. There was nobody inside. First impression – "holopka" waif. Walked around the house. Kitchen, hall, bedroom, corridor-none of this. There is only one not very large room, which is kitchen table, two rickety chairs, one half of the sofa, the second no, the Windows no curtains, no table cloths, there are no blankets, some bales of stuff, shelves, barely holding on pendulous spikes in the corner of the old stained utensils. There is no refrigerator, no TV, no electric kettle, nothing that is included in today's purely everyday household needs. And electricity as you can see here are disconnected for non-payment. Is this really where my mother lives? After walking around the room, I didn't see a single photo, a single document, nothing. Leave on street. Still quite the sun shone brightly, and after dark Barack unusually light hit the eyes.

      Walked around the house. There are no buildings. No bath, no wood shed, not even a toilet. Yes there is no, perhaps, guys made a mistake address, when said, that mother lives in this house, the more homes here from each other not strongly the and differ. Godforsaken place. And there is no place to sit down, and what to sit, who to wait for, maybe there is no one here for months. Well, to look around though that-L. what is this area.

      Walked for two hours, walked the whole village up and down. Very quiet village, with one well, which crowded several people with buckets. And it seemed to me that the yoke and two buckets passed long ago in the annals, and here, please, people so live. Dressed, of course, they are frankly not rich, but I like a white crow in a black suit which attracts the attention here as anywhere else.

      Returned to the said house. There was still no one in it. No one came, because the straw, rested me before leaving the door, as before, stood in its place. I looked once again at the sheet that I was given by current colleagues, crushed it and threw it right there. Began to think about where to spend the night. Not far from the house stood three burly wood. Their mighty branches they formed a good shelter, in case of rain, well, here and settle. A tiring and stressful day today. And, perhaps, now every day will be something like this, risky, dangerous, but well-paid. I did not even dream of earning as much as I was offered here. It under one hundred thousand a month turns out if every day to work-it was thought to me lying under trees – if this month you will live. I hid better for the jacket the gun that gave me the guys in Dumka began as if to doze.

      Through a faint dream I heard voices. I opened his eyes, raised his head and saw a little girl about eight years old helps carry the half-empty bucket and scary looking hag. When he reached the house the girl raised carelessly thrown me the sheet and said:

      "Bab Paul, you're in the picture!!!»

      Grandma looked at the paper, then the girl, then began to look around, and seeing me walking, froze in anticipation.

      With each step I changed my state of mind, changed facial expression, changed mood, with crazy speeds in my head thoughts. I didn't know whether to rejoice or cry, I didn't know what to do, what to say, to whom I would say it, and whether this someone would listen to what I would say…

      When I came, I saw exhausted, sunken melancholy eyes of the elderly woman, who never for a moment tore me burn opinion.

      "What do you want?"he said aggressive and cruel she is.

      Probably, I would not believe that visually you can find something native in a person who has never met in my life, in my case, has not seen almost all my life. I don't know what I saw, I don't fully understand what made me realize that the people who hired me were right. Eyes, as eyes, his mouth as his mouth, eyelids, eyebrows, cheekbones, chin, I have all quite another, but something me with a hundred percentage guarantee of gave understand, that before me is worth my mother. The one I've been waiting for nearly forty years. The one that I wanted to see with all my heart, loved and hated with all my heart, the one that came to me countless times in a dream. Yes, Yes, damn it, it's because she was in those dreams that I had stopped seeing many years ago.

      "What Waaam, Nooooo?"once more, but she stretched out more fiercely.

      And through gushing tears flow do not obey consciousness, I quietly and timidly defenseless, as you might say thirty years ago then at boarding school in every second, waiting, whispered:

      "Hello, mother.…»

      Grandma was stupefied. The girl, silence, looked, like a grown tall man shed tears, and didn't understand.

      "Hello, mother" – already more firmly, strictly and with a share of aggression, I said.

      The grandmother looked silently into my eyes, she peered as if into every atom of the structure of my eyes, and only when tears flowed from her dried eyes, she bowed her head already very quietly, and fragile said:

      "My Vitalik is alive," and pulled the handkerchief from her head, putting her old hands to her eyes.

      ***

      Grandma told the girls to go to her house, and called me into the house. I took a bucket of water and brought it to the house.

      I didn't know how to behave. Rather hug her and squeeze her, as I saw in my imagination, piercing all these years, or imprinting her in the wall for what disfigured my childhood and, in fact, all my life. After all, for all these years I have not had a single friend who was from a full respectable family, not a single friend from the secular society. All my life I communicated with the same forgotten and abandoned to some extent people. I was nothing, and I grew up nothing. The employee on watch at the city airport is not the future I dreamed of. What have I seen? What I achieved? It's been written all my life on my face, "godforsaken loser." So what should I do now?

      Mother didn't know how to behave either. I saw her reading every thought I had, and she kept looking into my eyes, and then she looked down at the floor. She sat down on the sofa, asked me to sit next to her, but I sat across from her on the floor. The room overflowed dreary silent second note, which seemed to last forever.

      "Well, tell" – a quiet but firm voice spoke to mother me.

      Mother kept quiet. She wasn't looking at me, sitting motionless, and did not know where to fall, from this difficult situation. Through tears and convulsive shaking of the whole body, she only repeated with a trembling voice – " Vitalik.... my boy… my son… my… alive."

      Mixed feelings blazed in me. And it seems to approach, calm, but do not obey the hands and feet. Sitting on the floor, watching, listening.

      "You must hate me," she said in a raspy voice.…

      I silently looked at the mother, supporting the dialogue.

      "How did you find me?»

      "No matter" – I cut – " you tell me why life crippled myself and me? You know very well what I want you to say, so what do you expect? About myself, about my father, about me, you know? Forty years I don't know who I am, why I live and what I live it."

      "Sinitsyn Igor Leonidovich-that was the name of your father. We were married for four years, then you came along. And, probably, it was the last joyful event in our life".

      My mother stood up, came up to me and sat down next to me on the floor.

      "You don't think, I just gave you to the orphanage. Your father wanted you to grow up in a wealthy family that didn't know poverty. He put on the card all that we had, I did not know about it, otherwise of course would have stopped, but he lost big. People on whom he counted, brought him and disappeared with the money taken for the services, and we remained without housing, the car and means of existence. Take everything. My father then began confusion, he was placed in a psychiatric hospital."

      Mom put her hand on mine and continued.

      "I