When will this end?! She herself, poor thing, is tormented, she is tormenting us all, and, most importantly, both scenarios for the development of the situation will end the same way: she will come out of a heart attack at 90 years old, she will not come out – the difference, alas, is calculated in months at best… – Natasha, breathing heavily, went down the stairs on the first floor of the hospital. -At least lie down and die! You can’t wait for an elevator, only one of the four works, it stops on each floor, it’s impossible to breathe due to the heat, old women with crutches and a heavy hospital spirit. And the stairs from the sixth floor, where the intensive care unit is, are twelve flights and five doors. I wish I could look this architect in the eye, or even better, put his mother here and let him run to her! And this walk is completely pointless – they still don’t let Lyubov Grigorievna into the intensive care unit, they probably want money, but where can they get it?! And they told us not to bring food, only Borzhom and Morsik, and that’s not necessary. But Natasha can’t help herself. It gets up just before dawn and, like a fish to spawn, without turning back, it drags itself from Lyubertsy, miles away, to this terrible hospital to sit under the door, ask empty questions without answers, and back. And Lyubov Grigorievna doesn’t even know about it. And most likely he will never know.
Natasha chuckled at her own thoughts. Amazing thing! Lyubov Grigorievna married her father when Natasha was only nine years old, tried most of all to win her over, was so affectionate and kind that she didn’t even remember her own mother, although she didn’t remember her well at all, but still All her life, Natasha called her stepmother “you,” by her first name and patronymic, and tried to make sure everyone noticed it. And she knew how much Lyubov Grigorievna was offended, how unfair it was, but she couldn’t overcome herself! Even when Lyubov Grigorievna refused the last chance in her years to give birth to her child, bursting into tears at the age of forty-one, she decided to have an abortion, and only because of Natasha, because of her reproaches and scandals, Natasha did not soften, did not accept her as her own. She understood everything, appreciated it, saw what a devoted wife Lyubov Grigorievna was to Natasha’s father, but it was oh so difficult to live with a disabled person! And she expected help from her stepmother in everything, and she accepted this help. Lyubov Grigorievna raised Natasha’s children, adored them, and they adored her, and that’s when everything came together, but nothing changed between her and Natasha. Life passed nearby, in the same apartment, Natasha herself was already twenty years older than Lyubov Grigorievna was when she came to their house, she lived life and understood everything about it, knew that she had pulled out a lucky ticket and that Lyubov Grigorievna could be designated as you like , but not as a stepmother, but when she hit her forehead at the age of nine, she never left her place.
In general, Lyubov Grigorievna got it for five. My mother and grandmother died during the blockade; she, dying from dystrophy, was miraculously discovered and taken out with the evacuated orphanage. When, to everyone’s surprise, she survived and was waiting for her father to return from the front so that she could finally be home, instead of him, her father’s cousin came to the orphanage for her, showed him the funeral and took Lyubochka to her place. Other children were jealous: relatives had been found, they would live in the family, and even in Moscow. But they do this out of ignorance. Her life fit into the formula: “I live in a high-rise building, but in the basement.” The aunt was angry with herself that she had taken in an extra parasite, and in order to somehow justify Lyubochka’s stay in their house, she made her a housekeeper, a nanny and a cook all rolled into one, which did not stop her from reproaching her every day with a bowl of soup and remade rags. Lyubochka slept in the kitchen, on a narrow trestle bed under which vegetables were stored, and it seemed to her that she smelled of onions and rotten potatoes for the rest of her life. I didn’t manage to study after school, I went to work at the post office, and then suddenly I started renting musical instruments. And she really liked to sit among the old pianos and grand pianos, their lacquer sides shining dimly, to listen to how tuners and those who wanted to use them checked them, the cacophony did not bother her, and if someone played a melody, Lyubochka, or rather, already Lyubov Grigorievna blossomed and felt at home at the concert in the Tchaikovsky Hall. And if one of the television celebrities came to rent an instrument, she would literally glow from her apparent closeness to the star. It was her constant good mood that their accountant drew attention to and introduced Lyubov Grigorievna to her widower brother, a disabled war veteran, especially since she was tired of messing around with his daughter Natasha. So Lyubov Grigorievna became a family woman and almost a mother. Her husband, Alexey Petrovich, was a good guy and kind, but he could drink, but could not earn money, so they lived hard and meagerly, and in general it was not easy to live with a disabled person. But Lyubov Grigorievna did not complain, she was quite happy with life and continued to smile.
Alexei Petrovich died on the fiftieth anniversary of the Victory, and Lyubov Grigorievna did nothing, she kept up her spirit, ran Natasha’s house, raised her granddaughters, waited for her great-granddaughter and was going to celebrate her ninetieth birthday. It even seemed to her that she had cheated time or that she had been given compensation for all her loved ones who had passed away so early. It’s as if they, up there, chipped in for five years and gave her an extra bonus so that she wouldn’t rush to join their company. And she didn’t let them down. Despite the years, she retained a light gait, read without glasses, baked pies as in her youth, and still retained the desire to wear some brand new blouse or dress for the summer, in general – well done, needless to say!
And then suddenly everything collapsed. In the morning she ran for cottage cheese, then hung up the laundry from the washing machine, wanted to wipe the floor in the kitchen, but suddenly she lost her breath, it seemed that she had run into something sharp with her left shoulder blade, an unbearable pain spread like boiling water throughout her entire chest, almost forgotten memories flashed before her eyes. , but the familiar faces of mom, grandmother, dad, Alyosha, and she slid like a sack down the kitchen wall. Natasha found her there. I called an ambulance, I thought they wouldn’t make it in time, but no, they did, and they took her to the hospital, and now she’s been dragging herself to the intensive care unit for a month, and time has stopped there and nothing happens. And how long this will last, only God knows. Natasha, of course, wished Lyubov Grigorievna only goodness and health, and not death, but the meaninglessness of such a struggle for life involuntarily occurred not only to Natasha, but also to everyone involved, and an unvoiced question hung in the air. – Okay, if tomorrow I can raise my head myself, I’ll go again. I’ll try to give the nanny a thousand, maybe they’ll at least let her into the intensive care unit for about five minutes so that Lyubov Grigorievna can see Natasha and understand that she’s not abandoned, that they’re worried about her and want her to get better.
– Hello, Natalya Alekseevna? They’re bothering you from Hospital No. 64. This…You hang in there.. In short, here it is…your relative, Lyubov Grigorievna, died…Today she suffered. Our condolences. Yes, here’s the thing… We have our own funeral director at the hospital, but you still have to organize the funeral and all that. But we understand how difficult it is in days of sorrow. Again, other funeral agents will call you all the time now, just know that their services are both more expensive and worse, but our woman is very good, experienced and delicate. And he lives right next to you. So, if you need help, she will arrive right within half an hour. And she organizes everything herself. You only need to hand over the documents and money to her, and then she does everything herself. And he will fill out the paperwork, and make sure that the deceased is properly prepared, and select all the accessories at a budget price… – It seemed to Natasha that she was in the theater of the absurd. “Agents”, “properly prepared deceased”, “accessories”… Some kind of nonsense! And absolute confusion… They didn’t even say goodbye, everything was not humane, this intensive care unit was inaccessible, like the Brest Fortress, nothing was clear, what to do, where to bury it… Dad was buried in the same grave with Natasha’s mother, but probably a second wife can’t go there… – Hello, hello, Natalya Alekseevna, can you hear me? So, should the agent come? – Yes, please let him come. I myself, to be honest, don’t know from which end to approach this, and in general… “And that’s exactly what our woman is needed for.” You will be pleased!
The agent aunt turned out to be quite sane and, thank God, did not play the mourner, she explained everything quite sensibly to Natasha, took the documents, the dress in which to bury Lyubov Grigorievna, forty thousand rubles and left. Natasha sat down on Lyubov Grigorievna’s bed, stared at one point and didn’t really understand what she should do. Household chores seemed irrelevant, it was still too early to talk about the funeral, so she had no worries. Suddenly she remembered that she had not given the agent any shoes. Maybe she shouldn’t have, but for some reason this made her terribly agitated, she rushed around the apartment, then found her stepmother’s weekend shoes. I grabbed a taxi and rushed to the hospital. Just before the door of the intensive care unit, Natasha suddenly thought that Lyubov Grigorievna was probably no longer there, but she didn’t know where to go yet, so she entered. The guard nurse looked up at her with empty eyes, recognized her and said dispassionately: “Alas, there is no change here… The condition is serious.” “Who,” Natasha asked idiotically. – How about who?! At Lyubov Grigorievna’s. Are you visiting Lyubov Grigorievna?? “It seemed to Natasha that she was on the deck of a steamship while rocking. – Is Lyubov Grigorievna here? – Natasha asked an even more stupid question. – Where will she go in this state?! Say thank you for being alive, let’s pull it out as best we can! – Natasha took a breath and swallowed. – But they called me from the hospital, they said that Lyubov Grigorievna had died and they even sent a funeral agent!!! – Ahhhh, the nanny was probably in a hurry to say, yesterday it was worse than yours, and agents are always on the alert, ready, so to speak, this is their income, and there is such competition! Well, they made a mistake… Mistakes happen. Are you not mistaken?! She’s alive – and thank God! He will live a long time now!
Natasha no longer heard the last words. Pushing the nurse away, she flew into the intensive care ward and rushed to Lyubov Grigorievna. She pulled a chair close to the bed, took Lyubov Grigorievna by the hand, began to stroke her, stroke her, and then suddenly for the first time said something that had not worked out all her life: “Mom!” Mommy!”. And I saw Lyubov Grigorievna smiling…
© Tatyana Khokhrina.
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