Читать книгу Mission 777 Possible - Марина Спроуз - Страница 68

Road from Donetsk to Rostov. Little Nikolash and Albert were a bit tired on the bus. The road was long, a whole twelve hours. They made the journey more bearable with frequent snacks, leaving behind a mess of leftovers. Marianna packed food into bags, then pulled them out again for snacks. Her legs swelled; Marianna’s leg condition, varicose veins, was acting up. After the long journey, Marianna’s legs were swollen, filled with fluid, and there was nowhere to stretch them in the crowded bus.

Towards morning, Rostov appeared before us.

Early dawn. We were supposed to be met. Amina’s husband approached us. Sergey looked thin and tired, with dark circles under his eyes, constantly drinking coffee; Marianna knew he had ulcers. We boarded a local bus, exhausted and disheveled, tossing our bags into the crowded cabin and setting off.

“It’s just around the corner,” Sergey pointed out.

A multi-story gray house, a communal apartment. Climbing to the second floor, we entered the tiny room they rented. A figure appeared in the hallway. It was Amina.

“Marianna!” Amina exclaimed.

Amina’s face was different. Amina sat in an old armchair, trying to push herself away with one crooked leg; the other leg didn’t work. Marianna continued to stand and look at Amina: only her eyes remained from her former face; scars remained on her face after the car accident, her nose turned into a swollen mess, her hands twisted, one leg limp. A lump caught in Amina’s throat. Tears began to flow uncontrollably, impossible to stop, streaming until her eyes swelled and it was impossible to look. It was her, Amina… Marianna’s soul was torn apart, looking at Amina; everything that hadn’t been cried out poured out of her soul. Amina could only be recognized by her eyes; even her voice had changed. And she used to be so beautiful, as slender as a flower, and now her face resembled a flattened Pekingese muzzle because her facial bones were broken. But the worst part was that she couldn’t walk…

“I can’t speak…” (Marianna’s thoughts), only tears flowing from her eyes. They continued to flow like a stream without end.

“First, reconcile with your sister…” – these words echoed in my head. They weren’t my words; I had heard something like this, it seemed written in the Bible, before giving gifts – reconcile with your brother or sister.

“What children you have…” Amina remarked, especially the younger one… so lively.

“Let’s eat, I’ve prepared something,” and Amina reached out with one twisted hand for the plates that inexplicably stood on the floor.

“It’s more convenient for me down here, with the pots; I can’t reach sitting,” Amina explained. Again, a silent stream of tears rolled down Marianna’s face. Then Marianna noticed that Amina was in the chair, she didn’t have a wheelchair: “How do you get around without a wheelchair?”

“You know, I rarely go out,” those idiot neighbors… When Sergey carried me in his arms from the entrance, they laughed, bastards; they laughed at me; well, I told them… couldn’t stand it.

Marianna watches as Amina warms tea and food.

“Sit down, take tea, eat from the road!”

Marianna sat down on a chair near the tea.

“This leg doesn’t move at all,” Amina pointed with a crooked hand – clapper into the twisted leg, “strong pain, I scream… And the other leg… they set the bones wrong, but I’ve learned to crawl if I need something in the bathroom,” and Amina smiled, revealing her toothless mouth.

Marianna had only one wish, to throw her legs up as soon as possible, about which she had forgotten in tears; a couple of hours – and the swelling might subside.

And in the evening, Marianna lay down next to Amina, the children settled on a cot and chatted until Amina fell silent. Marianna saw how Amina suddenly switched off and fell asleep.

One day… we stayed in Rostov – one day.

The farewell began… Amina sat on the couch, yes… she couldn’t approach the door. Like in a haze, Marianna looked at Amina sitting: one thought flashed through her mind – maybe we will never see each other again…