Читать книгу Force Majeure - Aloua S. - Страница 4

Alma-Ata. Winter. Noon. Blinding sun, sparkling snow and light frost – to me this is the most harmonious weather. I would call it perfect if it hadn’t been spoiled by the screams and smashing of plates coming from a cottage in an elite area of the city. The cottage was big and decorated with gold elements. But the phrase: “the rich also cry” was suitable for this more than ever. It was a quarrel of an immature family: the young husband and wife again began to sort things out. And a five-year-old boy named Damir watched a quarrel of his parents sitting on the stairs leading to the second floor of the cottage.

– Your damn job! Your night negotiations! I already feed up with it! And the son?! He’s waiting for you to show his drawings. Screw the drawings, just to stay with you! – wife shouted at her husband, while throwing the plates in his direction.

– Why don’t you understand?! – the man shouted, trying to evade the household items flying at him: – that everything you have: this house, car, garms, all thanks to the fact that I AM EARNING MONEY! And Damir will grow up and he will understand everything himself. After all, why does he have a mother? – the husband asked indignantly. The child, no longer able to withstand the endless shouts of his parents, runs into his room and flops on the bed sobbing. The crying boy is not the first time watching the scandals of his parents, these quarrels left a deep wound in his life.

Yes, it was me. I would like to tell the story of my life, on the basis of which you can write a manual – how you shouldn’t live. So, let’s begin. Let’s move to 1997, when I was in primary school. After classes, just at lunchtime, my father used to wait for me near the school in a company car. Full of joy and confidence, with a pleased smile, I waved my hand welcoming him. My father used to be in the car, waving back with one hand, holding the cell phone with the other, having a conversation. As soon as I got into the car, my father greeted me with the smile and hugged tightly, holding the phone with his shoulder. As always, we immediately started to play: we waved our hands, imitating the boxers. In these fights, I always turned out to be the winner, so I received from him the nickname “Ali”1. But more often, we didn’t play to the end, because persons on the other end interrupted the father all the time. And at once father became serious and completely immersed in telephone conversations. And I was left without attention and rode all the way in silence, looking out the window and being extremely offended.

After a while, he began to work for hours and came much later than usual. And once he was so late that I had to wait for him for two hours near the school. In a couple of months later, only the driver came for me. But I still did not lose hope and waited for my father. When I got into the car, the driver only said: “Unfortunately, Mr. Keeng could not come, but he left a message that Ali should be well prepared for the evening fight”. But even in the evening my father did not always return home, as he worked until late. And if he came early, he was terribly tired. It happened every time. So I began to hate his work. It was the main obstacle between our relationships. But with my mother, we were always together: playing, learning lessons, doing household chores. She was perfect in every way: she took care for me, paid a lot of attention, protected me from the outside world and did my homework with me. But her quality as an ideal mother did not define her as a wife: as soon as the father’s foot stepped into the house, my mother changed. Before, I didn’t understand parents, I didn’t understand why they had rows. It seemed to me that they have everything they need for life: a big house, a car, money. But only now, as an adult, I realized that this is not the main criterion of happiness.

Dad always looked good: he wore a business suit, always combed and with a perfectly shaven face. He rarely let the phone out of his hands, only when he was at the negotiating table. He spent all his time with it: at home and at work. And my mother waited for him every day until late at night with prepared dinner, and sometimes falling asleep at the table. She was a well-attended, beautiful and dignified woman. Dad did not allow mom to work, and there was no need, because we always had enough money. Therefore, mother was most often at home. Her friends often came to her, I did not abide them, as they either engrasped me or spoke unflatteringly about their husbands, including my father. So, I tried to steal away from them as soon as possible. Or, when dad came home early, I, knowing that another scandal was about to begin, silently left. In both cases, I ran away from everyone to my room – my personal temple. And my room was like a mini Disneyland, there were any toys you want. Any child in the nineties would have envied so many toys. Usually I turned on the SEGA and put on headphones with music that muffled everything around. Time passed so quickly that I did not notice how night fell. The main thing was to change my clothes before my mother would come and say good night to me, kiss and hug me tightly.

My grandmothers and grandfathers were friends, and from early childhood they arranged a match between my parents. Unfortunately, mom’s parents died early. Therefore, the father’s parents decided to fulfill the promise and immediately married my parents. They wanted to be always there and help my parents whenever possible. Since they no longer had other children, they accepted mother as their own daughter. And as soon as I was born, they began to come more often. When we meet, Granny hugged me and kissed on the forehead, and my Grandfather greeted me coldly with a handshake. Looking at my Grandfather it was clear who my father took after. They were exactly the same, only with a difference of twenty-five years. However, Grandfather was always even-tempered and laconic than my father. His straight posture and arms crossed behind betrayed his officer nature. He was a retired General of the Army of the Republic of Kazakhstan. He and his father also had a difficult relationship. But Granny was a ray of light in the whole family. She was always cheerful, constantly joking and cooking really well. Granny is the only person who loved me sincerely for who I am, without trying to change me. Undoubtedly, my mother loved me beyond measure, but for her, I rather was a little silly, who was unable to control himself. She constantly corrected my words and actions, at first I was ok with this. But over time, I stopped resisting and eventually gave up. While Granny treated me as an equal, she was interested in my opinion and brought me back to reality, so that I completely forgot about the games. Fairy tales and life stories told by her were so interesting that I could listen to them for hours with fascination. Thanks to her, it seemed to me that I was much older and smarter for my years. But she could never explain why my parents quarreled all the time. When I asked this question she answered nothing and only smiled awkwardly. She was probably the only person in the world who took me seriously. No, she was not the only one.

Once I found a letter on the table. My name was written on the envelope. I quickly began to open it. Finally, opening the letter, I began eagerly to read:

Hi Damir!

I heard that everything is not so well in your family. Do not be upset… I had the same problems, too. The main thing that you have to know and always remember is that you are LOVED! Sometimes grown-ups get tired and forget to show it and say it.

Do not get carried away by toys, they will not help you in difficult moments. I want you to know that I will always be here, especially in difficult moments.

Your friend

After reading it the first time, I did not even understand the content. Only after re-reading it several times, I understood the essence and even began to imagine a secret agent under cover or some superhero who takes care about me. But later something happened, that made me completely forget about the letter.

June 1998; Astana was declared the capital of Kazakhstan. Dad was transferred to an even higher position, provided that he moved to Astana. For several days my father considered the proposal and wanted to refuse, but another scandal with my mother effected on his positive response. And here we are standing at the threshold of the house, seeing off my father. Mom looked discomposedly somewhere afar, and father knelt, hugging me. Then he said to me: “Train more, you will soon become a champion, my invincible Ali” and kissed on forehead. Getting on his feet and looking at mother, he only said: “Do not be offended at me, that’s necessary. This is a job”. Mom stood immovably, father took the bags in his hands and left the house, closing the door behind him. Mom’s face immediately darkened and she burst into tears. She covered her face with her hands and shrank like an embryo on a sofa in the living room.

– “Mom… Mommy… don’t cry, please,” I whispered in her ear. But she didn’t hear me. I tried to do everything possible to bring her to her senses: making laugh, soothing, scolding, but everything was in vain. After another unsuccessful attempt, I completely despaired and give up, silently sitting next to her.

At first, my father often came home, but each time our meetings were rarer and shorter. Every time mom met him as the most honored guest: she cooked him many different delicacies, looked good. But quarrels and rebukes continued anyway. Finally, they made a difficult decision. Mom and Dad knocked on my door. Mother was very upset, so father took the initiative in his own hands and hesitantly started the conversation:

– Sonny, Damir… mother and I love you very much. You are the most valuable that we have. But, you know, sometimes adults can no longer live together. Do not be afraid, I will not leave you. I will buy you gifts as well, and when I come we will walk together, – he looked at me with guilty.

– Yes, son. You and I will move to the apartment, and dad will completely move to another city, – Mom explained to me.

– If you want you may live here, no one drives you out, – said father to mother.

– I’ve already made a decision. I don’t need anything from you. I have had enough reproaches, I will live in the apartment, which my parents left to me, – mom answered inexorably. Unwittingly, they again were completely wrapped up in their problems and offenses. I remember how I was desperately trying to stop them, so I shouted: “Shut up! Not again!” Parents looked at each other in shock.

– Enough! Why can’t we live together like before? Dad, mom, love each other, – I take their hands and put them together. But they immediately withdrew their hands and began to explain to me that they can no longer live like this and now they are getting divorced. They said that I still was a child and would understand them when I get older. That day I did not give up until the last and begged them to reconcile, but they were unswayed. I probably wept all the tears out and simply could not accept that now “mom” and “dad” are separate. I will always remember this evening, for me it lasted forever.

In the end, as my mother said, we moved into a small apartment. Furthermore, mother refused any “handouts” of father and his parents: home, cars, financial assistance, and any help in general. But my father made sure that my room did not differ from the previous one: it was also filled up with toys and a new batch of gifts. Dad did not spare anything for me, except for the most expensive – time. And my mother, on the contrary, caters to me, spoon-feeds me. After a while, it began to annoy me greatly. Grandparents tried to help Mom and dissuade her from divorce, but Dad forbade them to interfere in their relationship.

Thus our new life began, in which there is no more luxury, no high position in society, and most importantly no father. All my mother’s friends immediately turned away from us as soon as they heard about the parents’ divorce. Now she is no match for them. Mom decided to get a job and still did not accept Dad’s help out of pride. Perhaps in this regard, the next three years were extremely difficult. Mom changed about ten jobs. Finally, she accept the fact that every penny is worth the effort. All these problems left a significant imprint on her appearance. She changed a lot: due to tiredness and sleepless nights she has become very thin, her face has looked drawn and she has had dark circles under her eyes. Mom became a different woman, and I… and I more and more went into my shell. Recently, she found a more or less steady job as an accountant’s assistant and, because of a lot of work, came home late at night. She paid me attention only with a kiss on the forehead. And I found comfort only in online games and hardly noticed her.

A couple of years later, my father announced that he had married and that I would soon have a little sister. I began to hate him and his new wife, especially when I heard my mother was crying at night. My soul was tearing apart, but how could I help? Besides, my father tried to enroll me in various courses and workshops; he wanted me to follow in his steps. As he says: “You must mean something in this world! You have to be ahead!” But I didn’t want to do anything as a matter of principle! The thought was spinning in my head: “Mind your own family! And don’t touch me!” I think that he understood this and over time began to call less and less. And our calls were reduced to a minimum – only once a year on my birthday.