A reserve officer

A RESERVE OFFICER

A story from a cycle of the same name

Afghanistan is over. It’s a peaceful life now. How many times I tried to imagine it there among a hostile dust. I couldn’t. Only desirable pictures of my wife and a son appeared above the hot daily sand, they were like unclear mirages. Afghanistan Mountains were kingly, threatening and unapproachable. They looked like propping up blue sky by their heavy tops, melting in an east night, which was covered with the carats of near stars or painted by a rising pink sun.

I damned the mountains which had admired me at first. They did not release me... It was dry. The sun was molten. It blinded my eyes, as on an interrogation. Fine sand penetrated everywhere: into a mouth, under inflamed red eyelids, on the breech-block of automat, whether you would clean it or not. There were some moments, when my desire to release from the disgusting crunch on my teeth muffled everything... Everything, even a fear before a crazy bullet.

In such minutes, when a man realized and looks tiredly in the of death’s eyes, everything is simply and clearly for him. It’s as simple, as an order. And you can’t ignore it. It’s as simple and reliable as close fighting friends. It’s as simple, as a burning thirst and a dream of a gullet of spring water. It’s as simple as the Motherland. It is impossible to believe that it is able to betray you...

It is simple and it is difficult at the same time...

Why does my memory frequently try to embellish the time of my service, which our staff took into account as «a day for three»? Why was it easier for me even under the bullets, when I knew that they were waiting for me at home and there was a reliable rear? It was maybe because here, in a peaceful life, everything seemed more tragic. An invisible front was everywhere. It was a war without rules. It wasn’t a war with strangers but a war with our native people. Everyone has its own war.

Everything tangled in a moment. A country changed immediately. Svetlana was asked to leave her job in a delicate, but very insistent form. She wasn’t explained why but they made her understand that it happened because of me. It’s occurred that it was a shame to serve. It was considered not only in the kitchen, not only in the street.

In order to be delivered from old household troops, to conduct necessary changes, an «office» was some times renamed. People were protected. When it did not help, after the year 1993, information was send to every department: how many employees must be discharged in the first quarter, in the second... How many employees must be discharged in a year? Hundreds of people were taken away. Instead of them the beginners were invited. They were invited by acquaintance, from street, in a hurry...

I could not remain at work in this situation and gave a report. Although I enjoyed my serving. I was suggested a higher post. It was necessary to do nothing: to betray people, whom I worked with. Shall I betray? No, I couldn’t!

During the dinner I burned the secret materials about my service when there was nobody near me.

Once in dissident materials a phrase came into my eye: «Warrior’s honor doesn’t mean to be obedient to the state, but to follow the knighthood’s precepts. I remember distinctly that I laughed heartily. It turned out the states were different.

I became a pensioner. It was me. Even then I was able to run a long distance in complete equipment, earlier it wasn’t a question for me, even then I ran quicker than young soldiers. I didn’t notice when I was left without money. Well, that’s enough about it...

While I had been being absent all the tenderness which was intended for us both fell to my son’s lot. He grew up and the attitude to him was very tender. In order not to take her son away from a swimming pool and an English school, Svetlana sold her ear-rings, and than her wedding ring. Our patience was coming to an end. My son wasn’t cuckoo’s, but mine. We taught him not worse than the others. But his needs became higher from day to day...

A son had changed. He dated different girls. He brought them here. Where shall he bring him else? There was not so much place in a double room flat. They usually drank there, sang songs all night round, squealed in a children room, neighed and ran to a rest room being naked.

In the morning I tried to begin to talk to him, he replied: «I do not want to wait for your damned «tomorrow». I do not want to wait for in general. I want to live. And I will. Now. Damn you all and your mother!!! »

And running out of his room, he asked me very aggressively: “Have you ever seen a picture «Ivan the Terrible’s son is killing his father»?

My wife couldn’t bear it. She was lost. She was upset. She preferred to stay alone. She began to talk nonsense. I took her to the hospital? I was told: «Lay her in a permanent establishment». Is it a hospital for mental diseases? It lasted for four years.

We did not have time to move away from a communal flat before Afghan. I was promised to get a flat after the war if I was able to come back. It happened that I returned alive, that was why I was given a two-room flat. Although it was worse being without people. I couldn't leave her alone at home. She could happen to be unconscious. Her hair was tangled. Her look had no sense. She was able to go to a rest room herself. But suddenly she began to speak very quickly so it was impossible to understand even a half. Her look was reckless. She couldn't recognize her son any more. She called me Sveta once or twice...

The other day Volodya Zaykov (we served in one subdivision) invited me to fish. I decided to send Svetlana to a hospital for a week. Probably, she would be cured there. I wanted to have rest. I couldn’t bear it any more. I became like a woman: I washed, made cleaning up and cooked. Sometimes when my wife was healthy, I went to the girls. I liked it and could everything. Even it was interesting that it was during my work.

And now I couldn’t understand what had happened to me. I did not need to hide from anybody. I did not need to make a report to anybody. I would be glad to report but my report was not necessary for everybody...

I called to the hospital and asked for an ambulance. While I was in the shop, they arrived. (It was neither earlier nor later.) An ambulance was near the door. There was a cross on it as scarlet as blood. A trouble came like an anxious gull not like a carrion-crow. A door was opened to the flat. I stopped, lingered and came in. There was a hospital attendant with the stretchers in the hall. A medical assistant was with a gripsack.

Svetlana...

She was sitting on a padded stool in the living room. She was not nice. She was pale. Her head was weak-willed inclined to one side. Her dark-light brown hairs touched her shoulders. Long thin hands with unwell-groomed nails were lying on her knees like lashes. And she was my wife.

She noticed as I had come. Her head moved. She glanced isolated from the bottom to the top and then her eyes were looking to one point, hardly above nose. A medical assistant was a woman of forty in a crushed hubcap; she was smoking, laying her knee on a knee. When she saw me she extinguished a cigarette in a saucer and rose with a visible facilitation:

-  Who are you for the patient?

-  I am her husband...

-  Well, that’s good. We will take your wife to the permanent establishment. It will be more useful for her and for you too. You are a young man yet...

Let’s take her to the ambulance. Peter, do a prick. At these words my wife compressed somehow, she even became smaller and more helpless. She seized her fingers in the edges of the padded stool.

- It was not necessary. She will do it herself. Svetlana, get up! Let’s go. My wife looked through me and pronounced deafly:

- Where?

- Let’s go!

- Where are they taking me?

- Svetlana, let’s go. I am with you.

I tried to help her. She rose quietly and, slightly rocking, went to the door silently. An elevator was asked for beforehand. She stepped there as though to the precipice. I followed her.

- Sveta, everything will be all right. I stroked her on a shoulder.

Reception. There were a lot of papers and formalities. A nurse opened the door with a special key, holding my wife by an elbow, led her away. She went away, even not looking at me.

* * *

We were fishing together. We did not stay in Moscow and left for the nearby Vladimirskaya region. We took vodka. We did not have time for fish. We were sitting by a fire for two September nights. We drank, remembered, mentioned and kept silence. We returned to Moscow on Wednesday.

It was necessary to take Svetlana home only next Tuesday. I drank again only alone. I went to the shop and drank again. My soul turned to be black from vodka and wine. We did not talk with my son in a flat as if we were strangers. I asked him to visit his mother in a hospital, while I was away. I asked: «Have you visited? » He didn’t answer. Why did I ask him for?! I see: he did not visit. Apples, prepared on the kitchen, lay there.

It began on Thursday. On Friday it got more. I missed her very much. I had never left her alone even for a day. How was she without me there?

On Saturday I couldn’t find a place for myself. I felt that I couldn’t wait for Tuesday. I took a shower, drank strong tea, shove carefully, stroked a suit, put on a white shirt and a tie, polished my shoes. I went. I was anxious.

I bought a bouquet of flowers near the underground.

Reception. A doctor:

- Did you decide to take before? Well, take her away. Medications will not help her. You have missed your chance.

I suffered expecting on a couch. She wasn’t taken to me for a long time. How much time was it necessary to change clothes?! If they brought her here I would do it myself.

I heard: there were steps in a corridor behind the door. The lock was opened. The door was widely opened. A nurse led Svetlana, who was quiet and isolated. Under her eyes there were black pls. She saw me, stopped at a threshold. We looked at each other and were quiet. I did not know where to put my hands, where to stick a bouquet, I could not move from a place. A piercing pause was hanging between us. A tension increased. A deceitful quiet became thicker, accumulating extraordinary energy, ready, as if a powerful voltaic arc, to connect us.

Suddenly her face changed somehow. Her eyes opened widely, filled with tears. There was a light of consciousness in them. And crying she threw herself to my breast.

- I thought, I wouldn’t see you anymore... My dear! We hugged with a heat. She sobbed loudly. My cheek-bones changed. I closed my eyes. I hid my face in her disheveled hairs. Mixed senses of amazement, delight, passing grief, sudden happiness overflowed me. I firmly pinned her to myself by my left arm, and petted her head by my right one, sorted out spin of hair by my fingers. Her heart was beating fast. I opened slightly my eyes. Her hair became grey.

A very strong sense unknown before overfilled me. I did not know its name. But it overfilled me greatly.