The last Sunday evening of August found me in the Central Park of his native city, N-ska. I sat on a bench under a spreading birch and enjoyed the last days of vacation. For a whole month at home, fishing trips, to the dacha and into the woods brought me to my senses a bit and I had a good rest, but I didn’t want to go to work. Of course, this year, due to the extra work in my free time department, I will only have enough food and sleep.

But work will begin in a few days, so I did not think about it.

That day, the whole city seemed to be gathered in the Park: the kids, of course, under the supervision of adults, were besieging the rides, here and there could be seen walking hand in hand or kissing couples, noisy flocks of motley youth of both sexes gave themselves out running around and laughing here and there. In general, and in general - this is how all summer evenings in N-sk went.

I sat and smiled, thinking about my own when I heard music from the side of the scene hidden behind the trees and rides. The smile became even wider when I realized that the music was alive in the literal and figurative sense ... The sounds of a brass band sounded in the Park.

Five minutes was enough for me, leaving behind me alleys, fountains and part of the rides with squealing scholars, to settle down near the stage.

You know, but in the area of ​​the concert platform there was nowhere for the apple to fall! On the stage was a superbly coordinated team that performed at the time of my appearance “Rio Rita” - an incredibly popular pasadoble of the 1930s. On a spacious platform in front of the stage, couples of the most diverse ages danced: older people danced in such a way that they were breathtaking and as if they were younger than “dtsat”, middle-aged couples who knew such a thing as dancing to a brass band during childhood and youth without feeling embarrassed anyone danced right there. Even frankly skeptical youth, making fun of each other, flashed here and there. Along the perimeter of the site, more and more close to the parents, the kids ran, and also in two, or even three rows, onlookers, passers-by and just resting on that day in the Park.

With a silly-happy physiognomy for a fast-paced bass solo, I looked either at the stage, or at the dancing couples, or at the spectators. And you know, but I did not even notice a hint of ill will from the onlookers. Sincere smiles, even from the group on the weekend, dressed shift workers, hard workers, were the reward of the team. I saw, of course, moments when the trafficker who came to my city started yelling and hooing, but they were kindly, gently and popularly with a word, then with a soft fist in their kidneys, explained that it was not good for people to interfere, that they were superfluous on this common celebration of life .

The last tacts of the legendary pasobodl ended with a friendly cry "Uh" and for a couple of minutes you could hear only cheerful conversations of the guests. However, the musicians did not take long to wait and the tango “Black eyes” sounded over the Park.

Here and there they began to dance again - someone modestly and with dignity, and someone with passion. I followed a very beautiful couple who did not dance, but simply breathed dance. I liked their style, their story, which they told, but only a few of those present were able to understand.

And then I saw her - a red-haired young girl in a turquoise summer dress. She stood almost opposite to me on the other side of the dance floor and, like me, I watched what was happening, occasionally exchanging a couple of phrases with the same red-haired woman, apparently her mother. That I was hooked in her then I don’t know, and now after a long time has passed.

I was in no hurry to go home and continued to stand in the shadow of the birch trees, listening to the orchestra and, occasionally — whom I cheat — to look towards the beautiful stranger.What I found out about her is that she dances a waltz just great! While the orchestra performed the “Autumn Dream” waltz, her mother whispered something in her ear and both turned to a handsome man standing behind her - father ?! - with a childish smile, a red-haired beauty carried a laughing man into a whirlwind of waltzing couples. After the dance, they stayed to watch the performance further.

Then I realized that I had every chance to turn the ma-a-little scam and headed to the far edge of the stage, where the orchestra leader was playing the trumpet. From where, you ask, did I know that it was the manager? Yes, from there, that in the orchestra there were mainly teachers and students of the local conservatory and music college with her. I myself graduated from a music school and college as an external student and was partly a “multi-channelist”: I played the saxophone, at the same time I learned the clarinet. Therefore, a good half of the orchestra players was known to me.

I myself, unlike many comrades and acquaintances, thought better of it in time and did not go on to study further by choosing the path of a design engineer.

Having walked a few meters away from what I hoped the future partner, I walked to the edge of the stage at the moment when the orchestra finished another quick thing.

- Pavel Egorovich, good evening! - almost running up to the stage, I greeted the leader. - Still please citizens with a pleasant relic of the totalitarian past?

To my audacious appearance on the scene, my, to some extent, mentor reacted positively, shaking hands.

- Hi Aleksey! What hurts the soul? When will you come to us?

- Not soon. - I sighed. - You yourself know what music means to me. You don’t earn much money, you understand. Maybe later...

“Parasite ...” Yegorych grumbled softly. - Kysh then from here, let me finish the program!

- In the end, as always, two waltzes? What will you play?

- We decided to run around the concert version “On the hills of Manchuria” and finish “In the city garden” - the Tradition ...

- Pal Yegorych! A big request! Not "In the city ...", but "Random Waltz" and play like you have never played in your life!

- Why so? Did you miss the parade? - With a sly asked conductor.

- Yes. And for concerts too.

I lied only about the current reason for my request, but I really missed the "hard and unsightly life of Soviet clarinetists".

- Let's go. Let's play at its best, one waltz after another.

While the orchestra was getting ready, I quickly descended from the stage and headed along the crowd standing around the platform to the red-haired beauty. Turning back to the stage, I saw the impish faces of Pal Egorych, Andryukha, Jyrki, Yulia and another half of the orchestra. The conductor gave me time to invite the chosen one to the dance - how he cuts through and cuts through earlier, I cannot understand.

Coming close to the red-haired beauty, I was surprised to see that she was a very young girl of about seventeen. But at that moment I graduated from the institute for one year ... But there was nowhere to retreat and it was too late, therefore, under the three surprised eyes - the father, the mother and their daughter - I invited the redhead to dance.

- Good evening! May I have this dance, please?

The grinning redhead father chuckled merrily. She herself looked at the smiling mother.

- Go, Oksana! - nodded mother. - We will wait for you.

The girl gave me her chiseled hand and under the introduction of the concert version of the old waltz “On the hills of Manchuria” I led her to the middle of the site.

I didn’t take my eyes off her and the longer I looked at her, the more I was amazed at her wondrous beauty: medium-length red hair was elegantly pinned up, a beautiful face from which big green eyes looked at me with a light call, was worthy of a world-wide portraitist a neat nose and sensual lips complete the whole picture. Silver earrings with turquoise combined with her eyes and a turquoise dress that hides a neat chest of the second size. She was seventy meters tall, she had a magnificent figure, from a look at which one could be speechless.

And so we began to waltz between the other couples. She felt my every move in advance, she was always ready to change the pace of the waltz. The girl diligently looked away and I saw her ...