Suicide notes. Натиг Расулзаде

money, don’t worry about it. Think about your future. You can make good money working for me now, but if you prefer the work and miserable pay of a night watchman, it’s up to you. What do I have to do? – I asked. We’ll see, – replied Nagiyev. I have to know for sure, – I insisted, and it sounded somehow daring, I didn’t intend it to sound like this. He watched me intently. You speak to me in a wrong tone, – he said eventually, – don’t forget I give you a job, not you. Apart from that you have to remember that we are closely tied up with you now. He was using such round and correct phrases as if making a speech. This also was different in Nagiyev now. Before he wasn’t very selective in expressions and sometimes when he got angry his speech was just swearing and nothing else. But I got carried away by form and forgot about the content of his words. It was quite interesting. He obviously was aiming somewhere and soon said it straight. Think yourself, how will you prove now that you didn’t kill that Oddesit, ah? So I would advise you to know your place. And keep quiet… he said this just in time because I was already beginning to understand the meaning of his words about Oddessit, when he practically called me a murderer. I sprang at him to grab him by his throat, but my hand froze halfway to his throat cause an ugly thought crawled into my head – really how would I prove now that it wasn’t me who killed that Oddessit. I had admitted it and insisted on it, damn! This stigma of a murderer will be with me forever now. Only now this ugly thought dawned on me in it disgusting nakedness, burning my consciousness. Though I had enough time to think it over, only now when someone else reminded me about it, and clearly and unequivocally called me a murderer, I was almost stunned. Have a drink, – said Nagiyev pouring “Napoleon” in my glass, – and have a good think, if you can’t wait to get to your building site booth – fine, it’s up to you. Considering that here it takes ten – fifteen years to build a block, you will be needed there for a long time. I won’t be holding you, but I would advise you to realize what you can lose. I wanted to get into an institute, – I mumbled in reply. In institute, – calmly, without a sound of sarcasm, said Nagiyev, – well, good idea. Even if you manage by some miracle using the penny that I owe you get into institute and graduate in five years time, you will be getting your hundred and forty a month which will be enough to go to the market a couple of times. My congratulations! With me you’ll have that in a day or two, understand? In three days you will earn more than your certificated engineer gets in a month. But if you like, well, go and kiss your diploma, it will give you the opportunity to eat bread with boiled potatoes every day. He went quiet. I glanced at his full glass. Why are you not drinking, – I asked without much curiosity, just to break the silence that came after his words. He just waved his hand, – I have heartburn from cognac, – he said, – can’t sleep all night after it. But I drink anyway… What would I have to do? – I asked after a little pause. Mainly to travel on business, – Nagiyev answered boringly. And that’s all? – I asked, suspecting that he’s not telling me the whole truth. Carrying small packages, – he said. I thought. That suits me, – I said. Course it does, – he said, – take small packages here and there and get two – three hundred for each trip. Not a bad life, uh? Alright, – I said, – when do you need me? Day after tomorrow give me a call, – he wrote a number on a piece of paper and handed it to me, – my number has changed. I wanted to put it in my pocket, but he said, – no, memorize it. That’s why I wrote it – it’s easier to remember, look at it and remember. Just like some spy, – I said. Got it? – he said, – now give it back. He crushed the paper and threw it in the ashtray. Actually, I agreed to Nagiyev’s proposal quite reluctantly. I thought I’d begin working for him, stash away some money, get my debt and sneak away from him. I had no choice, had to sort out my life and settle down, but for that I had to find some proper job. I went to a few places between Nagiyev’s business trips, tried to find a job, and looked up classifieds. If I found something appropriate for a one armed worker, I would go there for an interview. But as soon as they’d found out that I had a prison sentence, it was over. They wouldn’t even consider hiring an ex – inmate. So I had to get a job as a stoker in a multi-storey building boiler house. The wages were enough only not to die of hunger, so I had to be sly, because our district police officer kept pestering me about finding a job. Though he knew that I’m a war veteran and getting a pension, he probably decided to play safe and started his own initiative. He must have thought if I kept wandering about with nothing to do, I’m bound to mess up. So under his pressure I got that job at the boiler house. But since it was interfering with my business trips, I had to resort to cunning. I left the boiler house and got myself a job at a building site, making a deal with the foreman so that he registered me as a “dead soul” and would take my wages, and I would just drop by the site from time to time, just in case… So we registered all paperwork properly, I reported to the district police officer that I got a job at a building site where they needed one – handed workers – he stared at me unable to understand my joke – and this problem was settled. As to studying, to be honest now I had neither desire nor opportunity to study. And what was the point in that studying since I knew that after five years in an institute I wouldn’t become a minister or a big boss. It’s no use to me and as Nagiyev said waste five years to get the miserable salary of an engineer or a school teacher in the end, well thanks a lot, not my cup of tea. Well this studying, sod it, didn’t bother me much. I’d rather choose some lucrative profession, learn to become a good specialist in let’s say fridge or TV repairs and maintenance, always a profitable trade. Or say a dental mechanic can make good money, well maybe this is going too far – it’s not for a one – handed person, but the bottom line is I must find something where I could earn a good living. So I decided, to stick around with Nagiyev for a while, make some money, and having saved up a little I’d learn some lucrative trade – become a specialist in it. One thinks sometimes, really, am I bound for the rest of my life to guard bricks on a building site? Isn’t it possible to create normal conditions for the disabled in our city? Provide them with jobs, because the disabled – legless, handless – they’re also citizens like everybody else. I have seen a programme on the TV recently about how in America they organize sports events for disabled kids. Isn’t it humane? Even on TV you could see how happy they were, face shining with joy. Eh, what can you say, one has to learn a lot, and not kick them away from you how they’re used to doing here… One day I was at Nagiyev’s. He gave me a briefcase with a number lock, a first class train ticket, and sent me to Yerevan, also giving me two hundred and fifty rubles for unexpected expenses, though what unexpected expenses could I have? So I asked him about it. We’ll see, said Nagiyev and it seemed to me he got a bit puzzled as if regretting his reply. That should have alerted me that moment and made me think, but I, what a jerk, didn’t pay attention to his words, or rather didn’t see any second meaning in them, words are words. It was early summer and I was enjoying travelling on the train. I was looking out of the window, and even felt a little happy those minutes, so almost forgot my disability. In one of those minutes a girl of approximately my age stepped out from the next compartment and stood by the window in the corridor. She looked beautiful to me, to be honest now with my condition I wasn’t very popular with women, and even before my disability I wasn’t much of a heartthrob… Maybe she looked a beauty to me because lately I had almost lost contact with the fair sex, and any more or less pretty woman aroused me? No, she really was very cute. I was full of youth and forgot about my ugly stump hidden in the tucked shirt sleeve when I audaciously approached her and stood nearby. She absent – mindedly glanced at me. Wind was blowing in the window scattering her hair on her forehead, and I unwillingly looked at her with admiration – yes, she was beautiful indeed – I looked and unexpectedly to myself said to her, – yes, it suits you like this. What? – she asked. Your hair, – I replied, – it looks beautiful like this. How exactly, – she asked, and the look in her eyes wasn’t unfriendly at all. Not like the look in girls’ eyes I got used to recently if I had to speak or ask them something on the street or elsewhere. Like this, – I said, – tousled. Yes? – she laughed, – if so, then I won’t comb it. She laughed again, probably also because of too much young energy in her, and suddenly quickly went back into her compartment and shut the door. Here I became gloomy thinking that my new acquaintance didn’t work out. And of course I remembered about my stump. That’s what scared her, she first spoke to me out of politeness, then noticed it and off she went. Sure, such a beauty, what would she need a cripple like me for? There are plenty