Читать книгу Jennifer. Residence of Grief - Viktor Khorunzhy - Страница 7

Moving down the corridor in the company of the nurse, Jennifer noted to herself that the chief doctor’s office was probably the only place here that bore signs of luxury. A rather gloomy corridor looked pretty obsolete with its walls painted in muddy-blue and creaky floor boards. Narrow windows were just as old, letting in poor light of a dreary autumn day.

A tall keeper walked down the corridor towards them. He was pushing a wheelchair in front of himself, with an elderly, estranged-faced man wearing hospital pajamas crooked in it. Another two patients in patient gowns and slippers laid their eyes on the nurse and flattened themselves against the wall fearfully, as if wanting to become integral with it.

Hiding her own agitation, the girl followed the medical worker in silence, trying to figure out where her fate had cast her.

White ward doors with paint peeled off here and there had no sign-plates and looked absolutely identical. Having reached the middle of the corridor, the nurse stopped in front of one of the doors and pushed it open.

“Come in!” she nodded Jenny in.

The girl stepped across the threshold… and instantly found herself at gunpoint of four pairs of patients’ eyes that had switched their attention to her.

On narrow hospital beds, in the ward with walls just as grayish-blue as in the corridor, she caught a sight of two young girls and two lads – to her own great surprise. Some of them were sitting and some were lying. All of them were wearing green hospital pajamas with loose sleeves.

“Here’s your bed,” the nurse grumbled, pointing at an empty bunk near the only window in this room.

Five old beds with small bedside chests next to each of them made the entire furnishing. Jenny approached the empty bunk. It had a thin striped mattress, a shabby blanket and a pillow that had already seen its glory days…

The nurse had already turned to leave when the girl made up her mind to stop her, having uttered humbly:

“I’m sorry… But isn’t that supposed to be a women's ward? Why are there men here?”

“You are no men and women here, you are patients,” the nurse snapped and sailed proudly outside the door like some oversized ship.

Having sat on the edge of the bed, Jenny squeezed her eyes shut tightly. “God, let it all be just a nightmare,” she asked inly, forcing herself to swallow up her tears. “It’s so simple for you to make one small, tiny miracle…”

But, of course, no miracle happened – having opened her eyes, Jennifer saw she was still in that somewhat gloomy ward with high ceiling and cold walls, in the company of people just as cheated of their happiness as she was.