The train has not stopped yet, and we were already standing on the footboard of the carriage, and Sveta, weaving over the hand of the conductor, peered intensely at the faces on the platform. I stood behind her and held her waist. But here the composition twitched for the last time, with a faint hiss released steam and froze. I hardly pulled Sveta away from the conductor, who lowered the steps with a blank look, and just at that moment she screamed, so loudly that even he, accustomed to everything, looked at her with surprise:

- Daddy!

She flew off to the platform, almost knocking down the conductor from her feet, and ran somewhere forward to the station building. I apologized for her, picked up my bags and slowly went down to the platform.

I tried to keep her in sight, but there were so many that I soon lost sight of her. Then I stopped and closed my eyes. I felt her. She was all just glowing with joy, and because of her glow, it was difficult for me to understand exactly where she was. But I rather accurately felt the search zone - against the wall of the station, not near the door, not near the high window.

I resolutely moved in that direction.

They stood at the window. Svetka, rather like an elephant, hung around the neck of a middle-aged, but rather strong man with piercing gray-blue eyes and blond hair. She was happily chattering in his ear, and he smiled blissfully, not knowing where to put her hands.

I approached them, put the bags on the ground and folded my arms across my chest, waiting for the first wave of joy to end.

Sveta dried out pretty quickly. When she finally let go of her father’s neck, she turned to me and took my hand:

- Daddy, meet me, this is Farik, my fiance. Farik, this is my dad, Pavel Stepanovich.

I extended my hand and bowed slightly.

- Nice to meet you.

Svetkin's father squinted suspiciously at me and silently shook the outstretched hand. And then with a quick movement he wiped it on his dark green woolen trousers. I did not respond to this gesture, but mentally put a tick in this place.

“Let's go to the car,” he said coldly, and headed for the walkway to the left of the station building.

I picked up my bags and followed him quickly.

“Forgive him, please,” Light said quietly, taking my arm, “not even a year has passed ...”

I nodded silently.

She gratefully squeezed my elbow a little harder and quickened her pace, overtaking her father.

With the proud name “car” Pavel Stepanovich called the vile yellow-orange color a wreck with rusty wings and bumpers, from which it smelled terribly gasoline, vomiting and something else I didn’t even want to think about. From one type of this monster, I began to feel dizzy, and from the thought that we would have to go in this miracle of hostile equipment to the other end of the city, I almost felt sick. I regretted that Pavel Stepanovich volunteered to meet us. It would be much easier to call a taxi or take a tram.

But Sveta boldly jumped on the front passenger seat, and her father opened the trunk, from where it smelled like freshly fueled gasoline and engine oil. Persuading myself, which could be even worse, without giving a look, I put the bags in the trunk, waited for the owner to sit behind the wheel, and took his place in the backseat.

Pavel Stepanovich turned the key in the lock, the car sneezed sullenly, startled, and slowly rolled along the road.

All the way Sveta nostalgic. Probably, it was her chatter that allowed me to forget about the terrible stench in the cabin and the constant fear that the car would collapse or lose all the wheels on the next bump. Contrary to my expectations, we got pretty quickly, and on the way nothing fell off. Just in case, I still have sneakily checked completeness - everything was in its place. Even the rust from the body did not crumble.

Her father took a smaller bag, I'm a big one. He loudly slammed the trunk lid and headed for the door to the entrance, where he was already smiling at the whole mouth of Light.

We went upstairs, and Pavel Stepanovich rang the bell. The door swung open almost instantly. On the threshold stood a short rosy plump woman with perfectly white hair and kind brown eyes. In spite of her fullness, she looked quite attractive, and even a tummy that stood out far ahead, on which flabby breasts reclined, only slightly covered with a thin robe, did not spoil the general impression. For some reason, she immediately reminded me of a bun, which our father usually feeds us in the morning. The apartment, by the way, smelled of pastry. And a very good baking, I must say.

- Mommy! - now Sveta was choking a fat little girl in her arms, tears running down her ruddy cheeks. - Mom, how did I miss you! - I did not see Sveta's face, but by my voice I realized that she, too, was crying.

“Svetochka, daughter,” her mother’s plump hands closed on her back.

“Mommy,” pulling away from her and wiping away tears, spoke Sveta, “let me introduce you.” This is my fiance, Farik, - she turned to me and smiled through tears. - Farik, this is my mother, Marina Sergeyevna.

Marina Sergeyevna also changed in the face, barely hearing my name. She gave me a worried look, and then looked at her husband with dismay.

I just bowed, putting myself another tick. Svetka forgot to tell me something. Perhaps it was worth changing documents and inventing another name for yourself? Maybe this guy - a latent nationalist?

I looked inquiringly at Sveta, but she shyly hid her eyes.

Oh, that's it! You also do not want to explain anything to me. Oh well...

Meanwhile, Marina Sergeyevna smiled again, this time somewhat stiffly, and waved her hand behind her back:

- Farit, let me show you the room. Stay there while we lay the Light on the table.

I nodded silently, picked up my bags and followed her down the hall to the second door to the left.

She showed me the wardrobe, the bed, with a special pride she pointed to an old, but still quite strong piano, and reported that earlier this room served as a nursery.

“And then Svetochka went to Moscow, Vanechka lived here alone ... then he went into the army,” she suddenly sobbed and large peas of tears rolled down her ruddy cheeks.

I hugged her shoulders and pressed her face to my chest.

Vanya is Sveta's younger brother. More precisely, it is the birth son of her parents. Three years ago, he was drafted into the army and sent to the North Caucasus, and a year ago, shortly before the demobilization, he went missing. Three months later, the campaign was over, and the parents did not know what happened to their son.

Svetka told me about it in general just a couple of days ago. Her story was short, slurred, and more like newspaper information - just so I was aware.

She forgot to mention that Ivan’s disappearance for parents was a real blow, that his father soon after receiving the news began to drink heavily that he was twice taken away in an ambulance in a precomatose state. That her mother also slightly moved from grief, that in the morning she gets up, walks into this room to wake her Vanya, because every night she dreams, as he quietly opens the apartment door and slips into her room. He had a habit of doing this, even when he was in school, and in the evenings he stayed with his friends for a beer. And when the father goes to work, the mother goes through pictures of her son and cries, cries, cries ...

Details I learned from my grandfather. From where he learned about all this, I was not even interested.

- Forgive me, Farit, I ... - Marina Sergeyevna pulled away from me and became shaking hands to wipe the tears still rolling from my eyes. - Something recently nerves are not to hell ...

“It's all right, Marina Sergeyevna,” I smiled and handed her my handkerchief, from which my father's ring immediately fell on the floor ...

This is his wedding gift to me and Sveta - paired rings.His ring is the emblem of the clan - massive, gold with a large round ruby. Soon after meeting his mom, he ...