Probably, the ability to wait is not the last advantage. But how terrible it is - it's a disgusting, disgusting expectation! Again the result. He is worth it, perhaps, perhaps very likely. So think later - wait or not wait?

Sergey put his hands on my shoulders, such hot and dear, gentle hands, and kissed him tenderly. And as a chain reaction through the body, a shiver ran through and stopped somewhere in the lower abdomen with pleasant warmth. Today he is with me for the last time. This is not discussed. We just know it, both. There are no reasons for this, but it should. Today is the last time.

Then we drank tea. Talked about business, him and mine. Everything was smooth and calm, but this was our last meeting. Perhaps, we both understood that step further, and we will not be able to stop. When I accompanied him and went to bed, I physically felt how the bed was still trying to keep him warm, his tenderness, his presence. But he himself will never be.

The room was filled with twilight. They were creeping into corners and back streets, under the table, under the bed, trailing in a soft cloud over the window sill. A bedside lamp was dimly lit by the bed, leaving a small space around. It would soon be dark, it was hard to breathe in the twilight, they envelop you in a sticky fog, not allowing you to move. Darkness is simpler, clearer, everything is clear with it - there is nothing in it. Only emptiness.

At heart settled peace of mind. I woke up in the morning in a good mood. It's all over. Yes, fleeting, stolen happiness is over. But the feeling of guilt for this theft is over. That night I was freed from the obsession of unrealistic hopes and ghostly dreams. With his visit yesterday, he gave me freedom from myself.

So how, pray tell, do not love such a man? Of course, to love, to love with all my heart, soul and body, but without the shackles on the arms and legs, and most importantly, without cockroaches in my head. I looked at myself in the mirror, but I saw his face: “I love you, dear, and thank you for my freedom.”

This morning began a new phase of my life. Again from scratch, but without the past.

P. S. Two years ago, on February 14, at seven in the evening my phone rang:

- This is a flower delivery salon. We have an order for you, to what address to deliver it?

An hour later, I was given an armful of white roses. There was no note. I went over in the mind of everyone who knew that if the roses, then only white! Lost in speculation, I called the delivery service.

- Tell me who ordered? Personally? By phone? How to pay? I can not understand who!

- A pleasant man, he came in person, short, dense, so intelligent. He did not name himself, sorry, we can not help.

And the next day Sergey called:

- Hello! How was the celebration?

And in my heart all the tenderness, all the happiness of our short-lived, vicious, but such close relationships, stirred up at once. That year still lives in me as a cool spring on a hot day, a bright sun amidst the gloomy sky, burning frost and blinding snow in the midst of everyday adversity.

“Orgasm is a rise and a fall, tears in the eyes and a cry inside you: do not stop! When a woman’s body sings in the hands of a man, it’s worth a lot. When then it sings without him - it is even more expensive, ”I wrote to him after our very first close encounter.

Not love, just curiosity.

— Tell me what happened to you? You've always loved men. What kind of nonsense are you talking about girls now?

We met with an old, good friend in a cozy Chinese restaurant. Long time no see, in our lives, much has happened. Once a very close relationship, love and passionate passion were left behind, now we peacefully settled on the sofa, drank green tea from earthenware cups and talked.

- How to determine the edges of a round cake? Or measure the space? Every act, affection, events from the future are associated with the past. Everything always has a beginning. The end is a controversial issue, but the beginning is always. If every time a small child beats his hands when he tries to paint the wall in the hallway with the characters he leads, and the parents do not like it, the artist is unlikely to grow out of it. And let him do it once! And who knows, maybe you will grow a genius?

- So you want to say that your relationship with girls has long roots? Will you tell me?

- What for?

- I want to understand what has changed in you. More precisely, I see what has changed, I want to understand the reasons.

- Well, let's order the wine and I will tell you a story with which in ancient times it all started. Do you remember Kuznetsov?

- Your husband? Alexander, it seems?

- Yeah, Alexander! How is it translated there? Defender? Small fry on the outskirts of the empire. Okay, not about him.

I picked up a glass of dry white wine, and looked through it at a dim lamp flickering on the table. Wine broke light, and I plunged into the past. My interlocutor, who had known me well for a long time, did not rush, just waited for me to speak.

***

In the new apartment we lived for the second year, but it collapsed little by little. It was built during the period of perestroika, its mother is hildren, or an apartment, or perestroika. Repair was done in parts. The nursery, the largest room in the first place, the rest - as far as possible. Turn came to the living room. That was my idea - a living room deep in the apartment.

Floors ceased together. We managed to put together and level everything up. But I got the wallpaper. Kuznetsov dumped on a business trip. After much persuasion, disputes, bargaining with children, and with their parents, she squeezed the children for two weeks to the country. She worked at night, slept during the day. I am a night animal, I am so comfortable. Wallpaper pasted with artistic twist, combining and decorating various gadgets. I had time for my husband's arrival. Together they set up the furniture. The work is done, the soul asks for a holiday. In the evening Natasha, a colleague of Kuznetsov, came to visit.

It all started with shellac. Yes, the vinyl one that needs to be put on the turntable disc of the player and gently, using the lever, lower the pickup needle to its edge. Moreover, the disc was small - one song on one side. Recorded on the record was VIA "Merry guys." On one side - “There was no sadness, it was just summer”, on the second - “Everything reminds of you, and you are nowhere ...”

Kuznetsov pulled the player when the amount of vodka in his body reached the first level: “Have fun, everybody!”. And there was this same plate. Natasha and I liked these songs.

All that was green in the summer, turned yellow, rang out,

And once it turned white slowly.

All that was between us for the rains, for the snow,

As if in the old tale "It was - was not."

There was no sadness, it was just summer,

There was no separation - a month according to the calendar,

You and I didn’t know what happened between us

I just said, I love you.

(I sang this couplet in a low voice, took a sip of wine and plunged deeper into the abyss of memories)

The pickup needle dropped onto the record a second time and a third. Natasha and I danced. Kuznetsov was absorbed by the snack and bringing the level of alcohol in the blood to the next stage: "We still have to", he paid little attention to us. You know how girls dance with each other? Gentle, sensual.

Everything reminds of you, and you are nowhere

There is a world that saw us together

Last time.

A room with a balcony and a window is light now

Clean as the day that saw us together

Last time.

The time will pass and you will forget all that was

With you with us, with you with us.

No, I'm not waiting for you, but know that I loved

Last time, last time.

Natasha clung to me, she ... Read more →