came through the gentle drizzle onto Marianna’s head.
Everything?… Marianna tuned into her feelings.
– I will give you everything…
Marianna froze. The voice of God?…
I’ll step out onto the porch near the Bowling Club while the kids play. It turns out it’s already dark, and there’s a train station nearby, a creepy place. From the darkness, a figure of a man with gleaming eyes rushed towards Marianna, filling her with fear. She started backing away towards the Bowling entrance. She needed to leave.
The figure gritted its teeth, and in a rough voice demanded something from Marianna. She darted into the Bowling door. It was over. What did he even want…
***
Do you want… the leaves to turn brown in an instant,
Do you want… never to grow old;
Do you want… sweet honey,
And the warmth of good health.
Do you want… nights to become white at once,
And weekdays not to be dull gray,
Do you want what is seen and unseen,
To become invisibly shrouded in a misty haze.
Fool
Marianna opened Facebook2 on her phone. New friends, or rather a new friend. In the picture, there was a man in front of a waterfall, with a round face, big sparkling eyes, dark-haired, probably not of Russian nationality. Okay, I’ll add him. The stranger started a conversation, as usual, beginning with “hello.” Marianna responded reluctantly, answering only after she got home. The correspondence continued.
Marianna read on her phone:
– I am alone with my son.
Alone with his son… (Marianna’s thoughts).
– Are you married? – came another message.
– No, – Marianna replied.
The stranger continued:
– How do you think I know? Whether you are married or not?
Strange, maybe he knows… (Marianna’s thoughts).
– Are you from South Africa? – Marianna wrote, concluding from his profile page.
He was probably from Nigeria, as the profile indicated an African country.
Marianna imagined him sitting in a poor shack, while his son ran around barefoot and poor.
The stranger with his son sent a video to Marianna’s messenger:
– Watch the video, what do you understand?
That evening, lying in bed, Marianna watched the video. A globe appeared on the screen, representing Earth, showing continents, forests, mountains, and different countries: what am I supposed to understand? Watching again, maybe he wants to say that Earth is beautiful?
The next day. Marianna in thought: he’s not writing today… what’s going on? Who is he? She looked at the stranger’s profile picture with his son: there was a waterfall like Qi-energy, and in front of the waterfall, the round-faced image of a person.
Marianna decided to ask first and wrote in the messenger:
– Sorry for asking, tell me: what is your name?
A reply came to the messenger. Marianna read the line:
– Fool.
Marianna looked at the word again, not believing her eyes: yes, it said: “Fool.”
Marked
And why did she approach my son… Marianna muttered, stirring the fish soup, “Now we have to go to court.” Marianna replayed the entire incident with Nikolash. Nikolash was playing with a boy on the street, the boys had a spat, and Nikolash kicked the boy. Out of nowhere, the boy’s mother appeared and slapped Nikolash on the cheek, leaving a red mark. And I had to call the police, now we’re being summoned to court. At least let me finish cooking the soup, Marianna continued stirring the fish head in the large pot. Done. She quickly grabbed the hot pot and carried it from the kitchen to the dining room. Ouch, it’s hot… Marianna couldn’t hold the pot, and the boiling water spilled onto her legs, burning her dress. Oh God, quickly under the water. A massive burn formed on her left leg. Will there be a scar? And I had to get involved with this court case…
From the War
Marianna stayed up too long at the computer, it was already half past midnight, her eyes closing in a half-daze. In front of her was a wooden shed, someone was sitting inside: a soldier, looking out through the doorway, leaning against the wooden wall of the shed. Shots were heard. He was scared, peeking through the opening and hiding again, a weapon lay on his legs, whether it was a rifle or not, it was hard to tell. The person was dressed in gray clothing, like a quilted jacket. It felt like a scene from a past war. What happens next… Will he survive or not… the shots sounded closer. The images disappeared.
Accident
Her body was sprawled on the stretcher. The gurney, surrounded by nurses, was being wheeled into the operating room. Her face was a bloody mess, blood stains appearing on her dress.
– Internal bleeding, spleen is gone, bones shattered, – the doctor whispered nearby.
– Does she have insurance? – the doctor asked the nurse.
– She had nothing on her, they brought her like this. People found her by the side of the road.
The gurney was wheeled into the operating room.
– Pulse?
– Blood pressure?
– Let’s begin. The nurse searched for a vein, administered the drugs. The patient on the gurney was Amina. She was simply crossing the road when a car sped by, driven by either drunk or high young men. Amina rolled to the roadside, and the car immediately sped away. Now there was hope in the doctors, hope that she would survive.
***
Marianna sat on a chair opposite her great-grandmother’s icon of Jesus Christ. She crossed herself with her right hand and looked at the icon. Her soul felt uneasy and troubled.
***
They set Amina’s bones, performed numerous surgeries, but she remained disabled.
First, reconcile with your sister
Road from Donetsk to Rostov. Little Nikolash and Albert were a bit tired on the bus. The road was long, a whole twelve hours. They made the journey more bearable with frequent snacks, leaving behind a mess of leftovers. Marianna packed food into bags, then pulled them out again for snacks. Her legs swelled; Marianna’s leg condition, varicose veins, was acting up. After the long journey, Marianna’s legs were swollen, filled with fluid, and there was nowhere to stretch them in the crowded bus.
Towards morning, Rostov appeared before us.
Early dawn. We were supposed to be met. Amina’s husband approached us. Sergey looked thin and tired, with dark circles under his eyes, constantly drinking coffee; Marianna knew he had ulcers. We boarded a local bus, exhausted and disheveled, tossing our bags into the crowded cabin and setting off.
“It’s just around the corner,” Sergey pointed out.
A multi-story gray house, a communal apartment. Climbing to the second floor, we entered the tiny room they rented. A figure appeared in the hallway. It was Amina.
“Marianna!”