And this loneliness,

It just won’t leave me alone….



“Why do you always have to bury me in advance?! Why not just expect me to come back home alive?! Just for a change!” She woke with a start, and sat up, feeling her heart beating violently and her palms sweat. It was always the same. She would hear his voice and then turn to look at him. She would turn even knowing exactly that she was sleeping, knowing all that was a nightmare, knowing what she would see. She still had to look at him.

Shower. She needed water running round her. Wash away the past, the haunting memories. Wash away the pain. Start a new day feeling whole.



She walked across her kitchen, wrapped in her dressing gown, with her hair still wet after the shower and opened the window. Immediately there came the distant barking of ambulances heading to County. The sound was familiar, she got used to it living so close to the hospital. She shivered as chilly morning air penetrated inside the room. It looked like the dawning day would be nice and sunny.

She poured some coffee from the pot. She enjoyed those quiet hours when the kids were still asleep, when she could do things slowly, at her own pace. It was easier for her to get up earlier and slowly get through the everyday routine, step-by-step adjusting to the state of being awake, active and in full control. In the half-light of the dawn she never switched on the lights, finding her way around in this semidarkness, giving her eyes a chance to get used to the day.

She slowly dressed, combed her hair without looking in the mirror, and arranged it into a ponytail that lay down her back. She wrote a note to Ivan listing all the things he should not forget to do and sat an alarm for him.

She left home, closed the door, shutting her nightmares there. She had to concentrate on real things. She had to survive; she couldn’t afford being lost in her pain.

The restaurant she worked in boasted to be the only one in Chicago to serve authentic Russian cuisine, but belonged in fact to a Ukrainian Jew, originally from Kiev. It was located on the embankment; in about forty minutes walk from her house. She took the el only if the weather was particularly nasty. It’s been raining at night, the streets were wet and at the sidewalks water collected in quick streams to run down the sewers.

She was engrossed in her thoughts, making up plans for the days ahead, when sound of a car horn made her jump backwards from the pavement as an old, battered Saab passed slapping her with water. Bastard! She stood there trying to steady her breath for a couple of minutes. Well, she wasn’t supposed to cross the road there, but you don’t drive like that in the city! What, at the crack of dawn?! Where he was heading to, fire?



And this loneliness,

It just won’t leave me alone….





He watched in his rear mirror as she walked away, unsteady in her high heels shoes. Why did it bother him that he didn’t know her name? He didn’t remember how they met either. In the bar. He always went to the same bar. God, his head felt as if a couple of metal balls were rolling there, colliding with each other every other minute. He rubbed his eyes and tuned the engine on. He had to hurry. What was it, Randi said, a gunfight?

There wasn’t much traffic at that hour. He drove fast, although still fighting with headache. He’d need to take something for it. He should really keep something for such cases at home.

Now, what was the woman thinking of?! He pushed the horn, the sound of it breaking into his head like a hard blow. She jumped backwards right in time to avoid being hit. He wouldn’t have time to stop, not with the worn out brakes of his. She’d better wake up first and then go outside! And he’d better buy a new car.

That’s it. Look for a new car instead of getting yourself drunk every night after work. He smiled to himself at the thought. A new car, really. Doesn’t look good as the reason for living. But having no other, it will work. Will work for a while.



And this loneliness,

It just won’t leave me alone….



She had been running away for so long. For so long, so far away. If crossing the Atlantic wasn’t far enough, where else could she go? She’d started running as soon as they buried him. Whatever they thought was he. She could not bring herself to his grave. Must have been supposed to come there. At least her mother –in-law thought so. Must have brought the baby. She would, if she was sure the body lying under the granite tomb was he. Instead, she kept on talking to him. Talking aloud when there was nobody home, Lidka never in count. Lidka has heard her talking to him.

She moved back to St-Petersburg, lived with her mum and sister for a while. Rented an apartment. Went back to work. At times they had nothing to eat. She would send the kids to mum for dinners.

America, she never thought about it. Never considered immigration as an option. What would it change? It was all Irina’s, his sister, idea. She’d lived in America since so far as “perestroika” era. ‘What do you have to lose?’ She had nothing she had to admit. And yet, she hesitated. Leaving the country didn’t seem exactly the right thing to do. What if… ‘Come, it’s been four years. He’s not coming back. That’s it. Full stop. Period. You’ve buried him.’

And she came.

What did it change? Every now and then she would wake up trembling because in her sleep she went back to the day he left.

котище растет, толстеет и вытягивается в длину. и наглеет. но я - осколок прошлого века, никак не могу смириться с тем, что нало бы купить цифоровой фотик - и не ждать пока кончится пленка!!! чтобы ее еще и отсканировать!!!!

но ... на моем получаестся лучше.так что завтра добью пленку, сдам в печать, отсканирую, мб через неделю - и будут новые фотки

Ти вийшла заміж за весну,

Ти вийшла заміж за весну

Мені лишила осінь

І запах твоїх сосен.



Машина їде по шосе

Вона мене туди несе

Де я не був ще досі,

Там чути запах сосен.



Сльози колишуться за вікном

Сосни - навколо мене стіна

Сльози лякають своїм теплом

Сосни - на-на-на-на-на-на.



Хвилина їсть мої слова

Година їсть мої слова

А ніч опустить очі

Вона мене не хоче



Кохання бігало в садок

Кохання бавилось в пісок

Воно ходило в школу

А далі був лиш холод.





Ти вийшла заміж за весну

Ти вийшла заміж за весну

І запах твоїх сосен

Мені сказав вже досить

почта в состоянии "упала - встала". героическими усиляими подрядчиков и сисадминов. одни портят, другие восстанавливают... а ля гер, ком а ля гер

появляюсь здесь просто, чтобы отметиться: я жива. несмотря ни на что

ну, а это эпиграф:



Your softly spoken words

Release my whole desire

Undenied

Totally



And so bare is my heart, I can't hide

And so where does my heart, belong



Beneath your tender touch

My senses can't divide

Ohh so strong

My desire



For so bare is my heart, I can't hide

And so where does my heart, belong



Now that I've found you

And seen behind those eyes

How can I

Carry on



For so bare is my heart, I can't hide

And so where does my heart, belong



Belong

Belong

Belong

Loneliness. Chicago.





And this loneliness,

It just won’t leave me alone….



He woke with a start and looked around, confused and disoriented for a moment. In the first light of dawn the objects in the room looked dim in the outline, shapeless. Just a second ago, yet still in his sleep he knew exactly who had waken him up. Knew who was at his bed gently pulling his hand. Tata, get up….

He sat up, hiding his face in his hands. The pain was back, the everyday pain of waking up alive.

It was hot and stuffy in the room. He didn’t remember closing the window, he never did. It must have been her. She… what was her name? What was it?!…He rubbed his temple with his finders. Headache. Only headache, no memories. She breathed heavily in her sleep, a young rather plump Latino woman. Her black hair lay loose on the pillow and her back. It seemed to him that her body radiated heat. He got up, walked three steps to the window, opened it and stood there for a while, absorbing fresh air with every cell of his body. She stirred, awkwardly pulling the blanket on with her left hand.

He left the window open and went into the kitchen, naked and bared footed, appreciating the chill of floor tiles. The kitchen table was in a mess, the remains of their night snack disgustingly sprinkled with ashes of her cigarettes. He opened the fridge, anticipating though that there was little hope of finding anything to drink. His expectations met by the emptiness, he opened the tap and drank water from his cupped palms. It had a revolting taste of rusty metal in it. As he fought with a spell of nausea there came a muffled sound of his pager from somewhere in the room. The sound, an annoying ringing, was increasing with every second.

- Shit, - the woman muttered raising her head.

With her eyes half open she watched as he roamed through the pile of clothes on the floor but then her head fell back on the pillow with yet another ‘shit’.

He finally found the pager, only to make it shut up, as he knew it could be nothing else than ER. Still not bothering to put any clothes on, he took the phone and dialed ER number. It was Randi’s voice there. He didn’t concentrate on whatever she was saying as the excuse. The reason they wanted him earlier was of no importance whatsoever. He confirmed that he was coming, a.s.a.p. indeed, put the phone back on the floor next to the bed and went into the bathroom.

By the time he was back, fully awake, with a bath towel wrapped round his hips, she had pulled the blanket and her sweater over her, hiding from the chilly air.

- Hey, - he said. – hey, get up. I have to go to work.

- Whatthehell….

Finally, when he was already dressed, having kept pushing her every other second, she got up and pulled her clothes on, grumbling quietly. She was young, but not even pretty. He hesitated, considering giving her a lift, but then rejected the idea as the way too time consuming. Instead, he took a few banknotes from his wallet.

- Take a taxi

He felt awkward giving her money, but she didn’t mind in the slightest. The fact even seemed to cheer her up a bit as she finally looked awake.

- Thanks. Hey, what language were you talking? – she asked.

- When?

- In sleep.

He felt suddenly numb, felt blunt pain finding its way to his heart.

- None of your business. Move.

- I just asked…

(интересно, картинка вставится? что-то у меня с этим не очень выходит...)

это в качестве PS к прошлому посту. про Суханова, который мне нравится всегда и везде, в какой бы ахинее он не снимался

"знаки любви" - не...., не понравилось. но он хорош. как всегда

как хорошо, что меня не убила в воскресенье ментовская "газель". все таки, как хорошо

а ведь, спроси куда они так летели на красный... вряд ли такое уж дело было срочное... пользуются, гады, положением, саммит, знете ли, им все можно....

смешно, что я сначала не совсем осознала, что могло произойти... тормоз я, что поделаешь. к вечеру накрыло. бррррр

а он должен был убедиться (!), что его видят и ему уступают дорогу, летя на красный... зачем?...

хорошо, что все хорошо...

ну вот, додумалась. уже обрадовала Пряна.

короче:

11Б

Димка Арсеньев

Алина Романова (потом Морозова)

Алена Ставрина (марг. со льдом)

Лилия Геворкян (марг. со льдом)



на год старше:



Юлий Важенин (история про куклу)



на год младше:



Сашка Арсеньева

Алла Максимова (подруга Дины из "снегопада")

Сергей Ардин (неразменная монета)

Давид Цурцилия (соляной столп. если история Дашки будет отдельной темой, не кв. № 26)

вот написала вчера, а потом подумала...

с кем воевали в крыму? ага, с ними родимыми, с турками.... вот и мы ....воюем...



и не только с турками. блин, московское начальство - слов нет.

сплошной fucking shit.

бедный мой шеф... понял, наверное, уже во что ввязался из природного авантюризма...