Everything happens in life! And Love has not only Everything, but Everything in the World!
"Zhenya plus Zhenya"
Once upon a time there was a girl, Zhenya... Does this beginning remind you of anything? Yes Yes! The famous and wonderful fairy tale “Tsvetik-Semitsvetik” begins in almost the same way.
In fact, everything starts differently... The girl named Zhenya was eighteen. There were literally a few days left until school graduation. She didn’t expect anything special from the holiday, but she was going to participate (attend) in it. The dress was already prepared. Shoes too.
When graduation day arrived, Zhenya even changed her mind about going where she had planned. But her friend Katya “tuned” her to her previous plans. Zhenya was surprised that for the first time (in her entire life) she was not late for the event. She arrived at it in a second and couldn’t believe her watch!
Her reward for such a “feat” was meeting the guy of her dreams, who, by the way, was also Zhenya’s namesake.
Zhenya and Zhenya dated for nine years. But on the tenth day they decided to get married. We decided and did it! Then we went to Honeymoon, to Turkey. In such a romantic period, they also did not leave themselves without “humor”….
They went for a massage. They had this pleasant procedure performed in the same room, but by different people. Since the massage therapists spoke little Russian, the atmosphere was already special. Of course, the specialist massage therapists were interested to know the names of their “guests”. The one who massaged Zhenya asked her name. The second masseuse found out the name of Zhenya’s husband. Apparently, the massage therapists really liked the coincidence of names. And they made one big joke out of it... They started calling Zhenya on purpose so that he and she would turn around, react and flinch. It looked funny!
"The Long-Awaited Boat of Love"
The girl Galya was educated at a private and prestigious higher educational institution. The years passed very quickly for her. In the third year they picked up running because Galochka met her true love. Her aunt bought her a two-room apartment in a good area, and Sasha (her boyfriend) renovated it. They lived peacefully and happily. The only thing that Galya took a long, long time to get used to was long business trips Sasha. He is a sailor. Galya did not see him for four months. The guy came for a week or two and left again. And Galya was bored and waited, waited and missed...
She was more bored and sad because Sanya was against dogs and cats, and Gala was lonely waiting for his return. And then a classmate of a girl turned up who needed an apartment (a room in it). They began to live together, although Sasha was against such living.
Tatyana (Gali’s classmate) changed her life like no one else. This quiet woman who believed in God took Sasha away from Gali. What the girl experienced is known only to her. But a little time passed, and Sasha returned to his beloved. He begged her for forgiveness, because he realized his “harsh” mistake. And Galyunya forgave... Forgave, but did not forget. And he is unlikely to forget. Just like what he told her on that very day of his return: “She was very similar to you. Your main difference is that you were not homely, but Tanya has always been like that. I’m leaving somewhere - I’m calm, I’m not worried that she’ll run away from me somewhere. You are another matter! But I realized that you are the best and I don’t want to lose you.”
Tanya left the lovers' life. Things started to look up. Now Galka is waiting not only for a boat of love with the owner of her heart, but also for their wedding day. It has already been set and no one is going to change the date.
This life story teaches us that real love never dies, that there are no obstacles in true love.
“New Year’s breakup is the beginning of new love”
Vitaly and Maria fell in love so much that they were already planning to get married. Vitaly gave Masha a ring, confessed his love a thousand times... At first everything was as great as in the movies. But soon the “weather of relationships” began to deteriorate. AND New Year the couple celebrated no longer together... Vitalya called the girl and said the following: “You are very cool! Thank you for everything. I felt incredibly good with you, but we are forced to part. It will be better not only for me, but also for you, believe me! I'll call again." Tears flowed from the girl’s eyes in streams, her lips, hands and cheeks trembled. Her lover hung up... Her beloved left her forever, trampling her love... This happened almost at midnight on New Year's Day...
Maria threw herself on the pillow and continued to cry. She would have been glad to stop, but nothing worked for her. The body did not want to listen to her. She thought: "This is the first New Year's celebration, which I am destined to meet in complete solitude and with such deep trauma....” But the guy who lived in the next entrance “created” a different turn of events for her. What did he do that was so unearthly? He just called and invited her to celebrate a magical holiday. The girl denied it for a long time. It was hard for her to speak (tears got in the way). But the friend “defeated” Maria! She gave up. She got ready, put on her makeup, took a bottle delicious wine, a bag of delicious sweets, and ran to Andrey (that was the name of her friend - the savior).
A friend introduced her to another friend of his. Who, a few hours later, became her boyfriend. That's how it happens! Andryukha, like the rest of the guests, got very drunk and went to bed. And Maria and Sergei (Andrey’s friend) stayed talking in the kitchen. They didn’t even notice how they met the dawn. And none of the guests believed that nothing but conversations happened between them.
When it was time to go home, Seryozha wrote his mobile number on a crumpled piece of newspaper. Masha did not answer in kind. She promised that she would call. Maybe someone won’t believe it, but she kept her promise a few days later, when the New Year’s bustle had calmed down a little.
When was the next date between Masha and Seryozhka... The first phrase the guy said was: “if you lose something dear, you will definitely find something better!”
Seryozha helped Masha forget the man who brought her millions of suffering. They immediately understood that they loved each other, but were afraid to admit it to themselves...
Continuation. . .
My story is very interesting. I'm with kindergarten was in love with Timur. He's cute and kind. I even went to school early for him. We studied, and my love grew and strengthened, but Tima had no reciprocal feelings for me. Girls were constantly hovering around him, he took advantage of this, flirted with them, but did not pay attention to me. I was constantly jealous and cried, but could not admit my feelings. Our school consists of 9 classes. I lived in a small village, and then moved to the city with my parents. I entered medical college and lived a quiet, peaceful life. When I finished my first year, then in May I was sent to practice in the area where I lived before. But I wasn’t sent there alone... When I got to my native village by minibus, I sat next to Timur. He became more mature and handsome. These thoughts made me blush. I still loved him! He noticed me and smiled. Then he sat down and started asking me about life. I told him and asked about his life. It turned out that he lives in the city where I live and studies at the medical college where I study. He is the second student sent to our regional hospital. During the conversation, I admitted that I love him very much. And he told me that he loved me... Then a kiss, long and sweet. We didn’t pay attention to the people in the minibus, but drowned in a sea of tenderness.
We are still studying together and we are going to become great doctors.
Beautiful stories about romantic relationships. Here you will also find sad stories about unrequited, unhappy love, and you can also give advice on how to forget ex-boyfriend or ex-wife.
If you also have something to tell about this topic, you can do it absolutely free right now, and also support with your advice other authors who find themselves in similar difficult life situations.
I am 20 years old. I've been dating a guy for 3 years. Parents and relatives know everything about our relationship. He studies abroad, and I study here. In short, we have a long-distance relationship.
Last year he left me, said that I have a difficult character, and doesn’t love me anymore. And then a month later he came back and said that he was mistaken, that he loved me and didn’t want to lose me. And after 2-3 days I forgave him, and so our relationship continued. But it wasn’t like before, there were often quarrels.
I came to this site thanks to a friend. For certain reasons, she was a reader of this site, which she told me about. My curiosity got the better of me and I read a few stories and some of the comments caught my eye.
I am 32 years old, I am married, I have been married for 14 years (since I was 18). I am the mother of two children (my daughter is 11 years old and my son is 9). My husband is my first and only man in every sense, and believe me, this is already an indicator of the exclusivity of my husband. No, I don’t have a high opinion of myself, but I know my worth. I am the daughter of an officer, I think there are people here who will understand what this means. My father raised, raised and raised me alone all my life. My mother died when I was one year old, a serious illness that had no cure in those days. As you understand, my father and his upbringing left a corresponding imprint on me and my life. I have never been a girl to the fullest, I am a tomboy, and at the same time I have a pretty good appearance, and there has never been an end to boys, But I have always ignored everyone.
A typical life story, but I don’t know how to talk it out, that’s why I’m writing here. I met a guy on the Internet, we live in different cities (his parents live in my city). I visited my city twice, respectively, we lived together (in the end, 1.5 months). Fell in love immediately. We agreed that in 3 months I would come to see him in another city, since I couldn’t do it for work before. We called each other every day, after 2 months, I understand that his relationship with me is cooling. If I don’t call myself, then he may not call for several days. And that’s just what I wrote.
Then came the November weekend. He wrote to me in the morning, then disappeared for 3 days and didn’t pick up the phone. Eventually . During the entire 2.5 months that we called each other, he met with other girls, went to the cinema or to restaurants with them. And these three days he was with a girl, he says, he met on the Internet, invited her to the cinema, then she called him to her place and everything happened there. He says that he went without sex for a long time, but could not refuse.
I am 27 years old, soon to be 28. I have never had a good relationship in my life, no children. 10 years of sick love with betrayal and betrayal. I forgave everything because I thought I loved her, I don’t know if that’s true. Time did not heal, I understood everything and realized that I was going into a past relationship for the sake of entertainment, to brighten up the evening.
And then 1.5 years ago I met a man, two years older, decent, kind, no children, not married. He gave me a ride in a blacar. I wrote first, found a reason to thank him, since he didn’t take money from me. Added to social media networks.
I had an unpleasant experience with my husband. Judge who is to blame and, in general, tell me from the outside, maybe I’m stupid and don’t understand why.
He and I have a rotating work schedule. And joint weekends rarely coincide. Here we had 2 days off. More precisely, the first day was a rest day, that is, he came home from the night shift, and he needed to sleep. That day we wanted to go for a walk. As we agreed with him, I woke him up at 2 o’clock, and we had to go. He has a warm jacket that looks very bad smell. No amount of washing or cleaning helped. Finally it got warmer, he changed his jacket, and I asked him to put the old one in a bag and on the balcony. As a result, he started snapping at me, throwing things on the floor, raising his voice and saying why this couldn’t be done later. And he just started hanging a light jacket on the old one with the smell, so it would also stink, well, isn’t that clear?
He doesn't want to throw away the old one. In the end, I took it away with grief, you know, like a capricious child. I felt very hurt by his attitude towards me, and I burst into tears. Previously, I often asked for something rudely, and thanks to my husband, I became more affectionate or something and asked him in a kind voice, “please,” but he got so nervous because of a small request. I burst into tears, calmed down, and he apologized. Let's go to the cinema. He really wanted to watch one film, and I wanted to see another. The one I wanted was horror. My husband hates them, but I have no one else to go to the movies with, so he agreed. As a result, the whole day was bad due to the morning situation, I was in zero mood, and in general I thought that I should have stayed at home. It makes sense to go somewhere in this mood.
I am 20 years old and have been in a relationship with a wonderful young man for a long time. In everyday life, we are ideal for each other, we are very used to it, we are comfortable together, we are planning to buy an apartment. But here's the problem. I don't feel like I've had enough. Every now and then I look to the left, I don’t make any body movements in the same direction, but the fact itself: I catch myself in the need for bright, ardent love, passion, I miss all sorts of uncertain glances, first kisses and the like.
What is love? How does it express itself? I don’t even know how to answer this question anymore. The husband is sitting on the couch, drinking beer, the wife is in the kitchen, the TV is on, the children are playing, he seems to say that he loves him, but he doesn’t really help with the children, he doesn’t strive for heights at work, his wife takes care of the household, he likes to go out with friends, and , of course, routine sex.
Or the husband is silent, not very emotional, but earns money, develops, makes a career, provides everything necessary, helps a lot with the children and the house, listens to his wife about her problems at work, and there are no problems with sex.
I thought that a woman needs security, stability, confidence, a wall in the face of her husband, behind which she can hide, change her unloved job, get a new education, give birth to her beloved children. Romance to a minimum, you are still a man. But I was wrong. The wife needed emotions, passions, explosions, scandals. Accusations that I didn’t love, that I didn’t pay attention, that I didn’t give her flowers unexpectedly, that there was someone who gave it all to her. And, then the second one.
This year I will become a pensioner. I'm scared. I never thought that I would approach this phase of my life in complete mental discord.
At 22, I married a guy older than me. Without much emotion or love. It was believed that if you didn’t get married in college, things would get worse and by the time you turned 30 you couldn’t count on anything. He was already a candidate of physical and mathematical sciences. He looked with adoration, looked after him, True, he liked to have another drink. But for some reason I believed that I could re-educate him. Although my parents grimaced and talked about their doubts, I didn’t listen, I wanted my family, new status, and for some reason they decided to respect my decision. They haven’t respected us all their lives, but now they’ve decided to respect them.
I wanted my grandmother to see her beloved granddaughter married. She was very worried and often told me: “if you don’t get married until you’re 24, find yourself good manufacturer and have a child for yourself.” For me it was a bit wild, but, in essence, I understood that she was right (my grandmother died six months later). Now many commentators on the site will be horrified by such a formulation, but in the late 80s it did not seem like something very out of the ordinary, especially since I was afraid of men, my relationships with my peers did not work out at all, my character is cocky and cutting. I didn't fit in with companies. I was embarrassed to dance.
I dated a guy for the first month ideal relationship, I already thought: “has fate finally rewarded me with my man?” But no! , it showed up almost immediately. Even before I met him, I bought a trip with my sister to warm countries, and when it came time to go get all the documents, I told him about it, this was just in the second month of the relationship. He immediately got angry, saying that I could have canceled everything. He didn’t answer the phone for a day, and the next day he told me that I had to break up, and that he was no longer involved in my life, that he didn’t love me and even cheated on me.
I immediately had a strong hysteria, I was shaking and vomiting, as soon as I start to get nervous, I immediately feel sick. My heart was beating incredibly. And he came in the morning to make peace, saying that he was angry, and therefore he put pressure on everything that hurt, that he never cheated, and that he loves. He asked for forgiveness. But it was as if something had died in me.
Who were they, the famous lovers? Heroes of the bright literary works, or real people? Now it doesn’t matter at all! For they strive to be like them, their names are taken as pseudonyms, and, following their example, they perform genuine actions. Ten immortal stories about love - only on the eve of the most romantic holiday in the world!
THE STORY OF ROMEO AND JULIET
This couple with light hand William Shakespeare, has simply become synonymous with the word “love”. Even though they real story incredibly tragic. Two loving teenagers managed to find the strength to oppose their feelings to the world, society, and mortally hostile relatives. Little Verona became the backdrop for an epoch-making event. In its very center, in the fertile soil of two young hearts, a small seed of love at first sight was thrown. Soon it sprouted and turned into a beautiful flower of passionate feeling. And for the sake of such incredible love you just had to die! It's only unfortunate that death in in this case was not a pretentious promise, but a tragic reality. However, the love and death of young Romeo and Juliet was able to melt the hearts of warring relatives and reconcile them. Perhaps it is precisely thanks to such an incredibly tragic ending that Shakespeare’s plot leaves a deep mark on the hearts and souls of many generations!
THE STORY OF CLEOPATRA AND MARC ANTONY
The intriguing love story of Antony and Cleopatra is still heard today. They fell in love at first sight, and became victims of tragic circumstances. Their relationship created a powerful foundation for Egypt's statehood and economy. And it was this fact that became the cause of unrest in the great and powerful power called Rome. Despite all the threats and prohibitions, Cleopatra and Mark Antony got married. Their wedding marked the beginning of a great war between Rome and Egypt. In the midst of one of the great battles, Antony was brought false news that Cleopatra had died. The glorious warrior, accustomed to always defeating even the most powerful enemy, could not survive the news of the death of his beloved. Heartbroken, he fell on his own sword. When Cleopatra learned of the death of Mark Antony, she also committed suicide. Truly, great love requires very great sacrifices.
THE STORY OF LANCELOT AND GUINEVE
This time, a tragic love story took place in good old England, between one of the bravest knights of the Round Table of King Arthur, Sir Lancelot, and the king’s wife, Queen Guinevere. It so happened that the marriage of Arthur and Guinevere was only a mutually beneficial contract for their families. But you can’t tell your heart! And it was her heart that once brought the noble knight, Sir Lancelot, to her window. At first he called her his Lady of the Heart and dedicated his victories in knightly tournaments and real battles to her. Guinevere accepted all romantic attentions, but nevertheless, tried to keep Lancelot at a distance. But soon her heart could not resist and a deep feeling flared up in it. Lancelot and Guinevere began to meet secretly. One of these dates became a trap for them. Lancelot managed to escape, and Guinevere was sentenced to be burned at the stake for adultery. However, Lancelot did not leave his beloved. He saved her, pulled her right out of the “paws” of the fire. The further history of the lovers is not known for certain. But they say that Guinevere became a nun in one of the remote monasteries of England, and Lancelot wandered around the world for the rest of his life.
THE HISTORY OF TRISTAN AND IZOLDA
Another, no less tragic story about great love with English roots. Middle Ages. England. The reign of King Arthur. Isolde was the daughter of the ruler of Ireland, and she was soon to be married to King Mark of Cornwall. King Mark sent his nephew Tristan to Ireland to accompany Isolde to Cornwall. But it so happened that during the trip the young people fell in love with each other. Although, following a duty of honor, she did marry Mark. Soon the king learned about the feelings of his nephew and wife. A scandal broke out. Pulling himself together, Mark forgave Isolde and drove Tristan out of Cornwall forever.
THE HISTORY OF PARIS AND HELENA
Homer's Iliad made these two lovers famous throughout the world. However, many scientists consider the existence of Helen the Beautiful to be more of a fiction, a beautiful ancient Greek legend, than a real fact. Nevertheless, the story of great love, which became the beginning of the Trojan War, continues to inspire romantics, writers and directors to create new magnificent masterpieces of art.
Helen was the wife of the Spartan king Menelaus. Paris is the son of the Trojan king Priam. The young man, once seeing Elena, a woman of unearthly beauty, fell in love. Burned by feeling from within, he kidnapped the Spartan queen and brought her home to Troy. Menelaus did not forgive such humiliation and betrayal, gathered a huge army and destroyed Troy to the ground. Helen was returned to Sparta. Menelaus, who sincerely loved her, forgave the traitor. The fate of Paris is not known for certain.
THE STORY OF ODYSSEY AND PENELOPE
Odysseus and Penelope are an example of rare sacrifice in the name of love and the ability to wait. Immediately after the wedding, Odysseus was forced to leave his young wife and go to war. Penelope waited for his return for twenty long years. During this time, she rejected the proposals of 108 men who sought to replace her husband. Odysseus also remained faithful and chaste along the way. One day he met a beautiful witch who offered him eternal youth in exchange for his love for her. Refusing such an offer, Odysseus underwent many trials and wanderings. But after 20 years, he finally returned home to Penelope and his son.
THE LOVE STORY OF SCARLETT OHARA AND RHETT BUTLER
“Gone with the Wind” by Margaret Mitchell is one of the few truly immortal literary works about love. All generations read it. At the same time, girls strive to be like the explosive and passionate Scarlett. The girls are looking for their Butlers among the crowds of fans. They are looking for it because the love of the main characters was great, stormy, passionate. She was born in the midst of the Civil War and was like a daily civil war that brought so much pain, loss, suffering and disappointment to both of them.
THE LOVE STORY OF SALEEM AND ANARKALI
The son of the Mughal Emperor Akbar, Salim, fell in love with the beautiful courtesan Anarkali. But the emperor could not forgive his heir for his love for a fallen woman; he considered it a disgrace for himself and for the state. A real war began between father and son. Salim was defeated in a battle with the powerful army of the emperor and was sentenced to death. On the day of the execution, Anarkali appeared in the square, threw herself at the emperor’s feet and said that she was ready to die if only Salim would live. Akbar accepted such a sacrifice. In front of her beloved's eyes, the girl was walled up alive in a brick wall.
THE LOVE STORY OF POCAHONTAS AND JOHN SMITH
This love story is a famous legend from American history. Pocahontas was the daughter of an Indian chief of the Algonquin Indian tribe. In May 1607, the girl saw the British for the first time. And among them is John Smith, who seemed very attractive to her. However, Pocahontes and Smith met in the midst of a war between ethnic tribes and conquerors. The Indians subjected the British prisoners to terrible torture. Pocahontas saved John, and a romance began between them. Because of her love, the girl converted to Christianity. She was baptized with the name Rebecca.
THE STORY OF QUEEN VICTORIA AND PRINCE ALBERT
A love story of crowned heads. Victoria was a lively, cheerful girl, in love with painting and the world. She ascended to the English throne in 1837, after the death of her uncle, King William IV. In 1840 she married her cousin, Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. At first, Victoria's choice was not approved by the people. But then Albert earned the deep trust and respect of people with his honesty, hard work and devotion to his family. Albert and Victoria had nine children. The Queen listened to her husband's opinion in all matters of state. When Albert died (1861), Victoria observed strict mourning and did not appear in public for three years. Three years later, having returned to perform government duties, she continued to mourn for her beloved husband. She didn’t take off black for 40 years, until her death. Dikmi: All the famous lovers of the world were different. Just as different were their ways of life, meetings, happiness and tragedy. But we have a lot to learn from them. Learn loyalty, devotion, courage and sacrifice. However, our time also raises its heroes. And who knows, maybe in 100 years, we will be describing your Love on the pages of publications! And we will admire actions for the glory of her name and devotion in her honor! And let the wise thoughts of famous connoisseurs of true feelings inspire you to great deeds!
Current page: 1 (book has 7 pages in total) [available reading passage: 2 pages]
Irina Lobusova
Kama Sutra. Short stories about love (collection)
It was like this
Almost every day we meet on the landing of the main staircase. She smokes in the company of her friends, and Natasha and I are looking for the women's restroom - or vice versa. She is similar to me - maybe because we both completely lose the ability to navigate the huge and endless (as it seems to us every day) space of the institute. The long, tangled bodies of which seem to be specially created to put pressure on the brain. Usually by the end of the day I start to go wild and demand to immediately hand over the monkey who built this building. Natasha laughs and asks why I am sure that this architectural monkey is still alive. However, endless wandering in search of the right audience or women's toilet is entertainment. There are so few of them in our lives - simple entertainment. We both appreciate them, I recognize everything in their eyes. When, at the most unexpected moment, we bump into each other on the stairs and lie to each other that our meeting is completely unexpected. We both know how to just lie classically. Me. And she.
We usually meet on the stairs. Then we look away and look important. She explains sedately how she just left the audience. I am walking along the corridor nearby. No one admits, even under the guise of a terrible death penalty, that in fact we are standing here and waiting for each other. No one except us is given (and will not be given) to know about this.
Both very amicably pretend that they are incredibly happy to see each other. From the outside, everything looks so easy to believe.
– It’s so nice to meet friends!
– Oh, I didn’t even know that you would be passing through here... But I’m so glad!
– What do you have to smoke?
She holds out cigarettes, my friend Natasha brazenly grabs two at once and in complete female solidarity the three of us smoke silently until the bell rings for the next pair.
– Would you give me your notes on economic theory for a couple of days? We have a test in a couple of days... And you already passed the test ahead of schedule... (she)
- No problem. Call, come in and take... (me).
Then we go to lectures. She is studying in the same course as me, just in a different stream.
The auditorium is damp from the morning light, and the desk is still damp from the wet rag of the cleaning lady. In the back people are discussing yesterday's television series. After a few minutes, everyone dives into the depths of higher mathematics. Everyone but me. During the break, without taking my eyes off my notes, I sit at the table, trying to at least see what is written on the paper sheet open in front of me. Someone slowly and quietly approaches my table. And without looking up, I know who I will see. Who is standing behind me... She.
She walks in sideways, as if shy strangers. He sits down next to you and looks devotedly into his eyes. We are the closest and best friends, and from a long time ago. The deep essence of our relationship cannot be expressed in words. We're just waiting for one man. We've both been waiting for years without success. We are rivals, but not a single person in the world would think of calling us that. Our faces are the same because they are marked with the indelible stamp of love and anxiety. For one person. We probably both love him. Maybe he loves us too, but for the safety of our common souls, it’s easier to convince ourselves that he really doesn’t care about us.
How much time has passed since then? Six months, a year, two years? From the time when I was alone, the most ordinary phone call?
Who called? I can’t even remember the name now... Someone from a neighboring course... or from a group...
"- Hello. Come right now. Everyone has gathered here... there's a surprise!
- What a surprise?! It's raining outside! Speak clearly!
– How about your English?
– Have you gone crazy?
– Listen, we have Americans sitting here. Two came on exchange to the Faculty of Romance-Germanic Philology.
- Why are they sitting with us?
– They are not interested there, besides, they met Vitalik and he brought them to our dorm. They are funny. They hardly speak Russian. She (named the name) fell for one. She sits next to him all the time. Come. You should look at this! “
The rain that hit my face... When I returned home, there were three of us. Three. This has been the case ever since.
I turn my head and look at her face - the face of a man who, faithfully laying his head on my shoulder, looks through the eyes of a pitiful beaten dog. She definitely loves him more than me. She loves so much that it is a holiday for her to hear at least one word. Even if this word of his is intended for me. From the point of view of my wounded pride, I look at her very closely and competently note that today she has her hair done poorly, that lipstick doesn’t suit her, and there is a loop on her tights. She probably sees the bruises under my eyes, unmanicured nails and tired appearance. I have known for a long time that my breasts are more beautiful and larger than hers, my height is taller and my eyes are brighter. But her legs and waist are more slender than mine. Our mutual inspection is almost unnoticeable - it is a habit ingrained in the subconscious. After this, we mutually look for oddities in behavior that indicate that one of us has recently seen him.
“Yesterday I watched international news until two o’clock in the morning...” her voice trails off and becomes hoarse. “They probably won’t be able to come this year... I heard there’s a crisis in the States...”
“And even if they come, despite their shaky economy,” I pick up, “they are unlikely to come to us.”
Her face falls, I see that I hurt her. But I can’t stop anymore.
– And in general, I have long forgotten about all this nonsense. Even if he comes again, you still won’t understand him. As last time.
– But you will help me with the translation...
- Hardly. I forgot English a long time ago. Exams are coming soon, the session is coming, we need to study Russian... the future belongs to the Russian language... and they also say that Germans will soon come to the Russian Geographical Fund for exchange. Would you like to sit down with a dictionary and go look at them?
After her, he turned to me - it was normal, I had long been accustomed to such a reaction, but I did not know that his ordinary masculine actions could cause her such pain. He still writes me letters - thin pieces of paper printed on a laser printer... I keep them in an old notebook so as not to show them to anyone. She does not know about the existence of these letters. All her ideas about life are the hope that he will forget me too. I guess that every morning she opens a map of the world and looks at the ocean with hope. She loves the ocean almost as much as he loves him. For her, the ocean is a bottomless abyss in which thoughts and feelings drown. I do not dissuade her from this illusion. Let him live as easily as possible. Our history is primitive to the point of stupidity. So ridiculous that it’s embarrassing to even talk about it. Those around us are firmly convinced that, having met at the institute, we simply became friends. Two closest friends. Who always have something to talk about... It's true. We are friends. We are interested together, there is always common topics and we also understand each other perfectly. I like her - as a person, as a person, as a friend. She likes me too. She has character traits that I don't have. We feel good together. It’s so good that no one is needed in this world. Even, probably, the ocean.
In our “personal” life, which is open to everyone, each of us has a separate man. She is a biology student from the university. Mine is a computer artist, a rather funny guy. With a valuable quality - the inability to ask questions. Our men help us survive the uncertainty and melancholy, and also the thought that he will not return. That our American romance will never truly connect us to him. But for this love, we secretly promise each other to always show concern - concern not about ourselves, but about him. She doesn’t realize, I understand how funny and absurd we are, clinging to cracked, torn straws in order to float to the surface and drown out some strange pain. Pain similar to a toothache, occurring at the most inopportune moment in the most inopportune place. Is pain about yourself? Or about him?
Sometimes I read hatred in her eyes. As if by silent agreement, we hate everything that exists around us. An institute that you entered just like that, for the sake of a diploma, friends who don’t care about you, society and our existence, and most importantly, the abyss that forever separates us from him. And when we are tired to the point of madness from eternal lies and poorly hidden indifference, from the whirlwind of meaningless but many events, from the stupidity of others love stories- we meet her eyes and see sincerity, real, truthful sincerity, which is purer and better... We never talk about the topic love triangle because we both understand perfectly well that behind this there is always something more complex than the dilemma of ordinary unrequited love...
And one more thing: we think about him very often. We remember, experiencing different feelings - melancholy, love, hatred, something nasty and disgusting, or vice versa, light and fluffy... And after a stream of general phrases, someone suddenly stops mid-sentence and asks:
- Well?
And the other one shakes her head negatively:
- Nothing new…
And, having met his eyes, he will understand the silent sentence - there will be nothing new, nothing... Never.
At home, alone with myself, when no one sees me, I go crazy from the abyss into which I fall lower and lower. I desperately want to grab a pen and write in English: “leave me alone... don’t call... don’t write...” But I can’t, I’m not capable of doing this, and therefore I suffer from nightmares, from which my other half only becomes chronic insomnia. Our jealous sharing of love is a terrible nightmare in my dreams at night... How Swedish family or Muslim laws on polygamy... In my nightmares I even imagine how we both marry him and run the same kitchen... Me and her. I shudder in my sleep. I wake up in a cold sweat and am tormented by the temptation to say that from mutual friends I learned about his death in a car accident... Or that another plane crashed somewhere... I invent hundreds of ways, I know that I cannot do it. I can't hate her. Just like she did me.
One day, on a difficult day, when my nerves were shaken to the limit, I pressed her against the stairs:
- What are you doing?! Why are you following me? Why are you continuing this nightmare?! Live your own life! Leave me alone! Don't seek my company, because in reality you hate me!
A strange expression appeared in her eyes:
- It is not true. I can't and don't want to hate you. I love you. And a little bit of it.
Every day for two years we meet on the landing of the stairs. And every meeting we don’t talk, but we think about him. I even catch myself thinking that I’m counting down the clock every day and looking forward to the moment when she quietly, as if shyly, enters the classroom, sits down with me and starts a stupid, endless conversation on general topics. And then, in the middle, he will interrupt the conversation and look at me questioningly... I guiltily look away to the side to shake my head negatively. And I’ll shiver all over, probably from the eternal cold dampness in the morning.
Two days until the new year
The telegram said “don’t come.” The snow scratched his cheeks with hard bristles, trampled under the broken lantern. The edge of the most brazen of all telegrams protruded from his pocket through the fur of his fur coat. The station looked like a huge pheonite ball, molded from dirty plasticine. A door leading into the sky fell brightly and clearly into the void.
Leaning against the cold wall, she studied the railway ticket window, where the crowd was choking, and thought only that she wanted to smoke, she just wanted to smoke like crazy, drawing in bitter frosty air into both nostrils. It was impossible to walk, you just had to stand, watching the crowd, leaning your shoulder against the cold wall, squinting your eyes from the familiar stench. All the stations are similar to one another, like fallen gray stars, floating in the clouds of other people's eyes, a collection of familiar, undeniable miasma. All stations are similar to one another.
Clouds - other people's eyes. This was essentially the most important thing.
The telegram said “don’t come.” This way he didn’t have to look for confirmation of what he was going to do. In a narrow passage, a trampled drunk homeless man fell out from under someone’s feet and fell right under her feet. She crawled extremely carefully along the wall so as not to touch the edge of the long fur coat. Someone pushed me in the back. Turned around. It seemed like she wanted to say something, but she couldn’t say anything, and so, unable to say anything, she froze, forgetting that she wanted to smoke because the thought was fresher. The idea that decisions can gnaw at the brain in the same way that half-smoked (in the snow) cigarettes gnaw. Where there was pain, red, inflamed dots remained, carefully hidden under the skin. She ran her hand, trying to cut off the most inflamed part, but nothing happened, and the red dots ached more and more painfully, more and more, leaving behind anger, similar to a hot broken lantern in the usual pheonite ball.
Sharply pushing part of the wall away from her, she crashed into the line, professionally throwing away all the bag-men with her confident elbows. The impudence caused a friendly opening of the mouths of seasoned ticket resellers. She pressed herself against the window, afraid that again she would not be able to say anything, but she said, and where the breath fell on the glass, the window became wet.
- One to... for today.
- And in general?
- I said no.
A sound wave of voices hit the legs, someone was vigorously tearing at the fur side, and very close by, the disgusting onion stench of someone’s hysterical mouth entered the nostrils - so the indignant masses of the people righteously tried to take her away from the railway ticket window.
– I may have a certified telegram.
- Go through the other window.
- Well, look - one ticket.
“Are you kidding me, damn you...,” said the cashier, “don’t hold up the line... you..., moved away from the cash register!”
The fur coat was no longer torn; the sound wave hitting the legs went to the floor. She pushed the heavy door that went into the sky and went out to where the frost immediately bit into her face with sharpened vampire teeth. Endless night stations floated past my eyes (other people's eyes). They shouted after us - along the taxi stands. Of course, she didn't understand a word. It seemed to her that she had forgotten all languages a long time ago, and around her, through the aquarium walls, without reaching her, human sounds were disappearing, taking the colors existing in the world with them. The walls went all the way to the bottom, not letting in the bygone symphony of color. The telegram said “don’t come, circumstances have changed.” A perfect semblance of tears dried on her eyelashes, not reaching her cheeks in the vampire frost. These tears disappeared without appearing at all and immediately, only inside, under the skin, leaving a dull callous pain, similar to a drained swamp. She took a cigarette and a lighter (in the shape of a colored fish) from her purse and took a deep breath of the smoke, which suddenly stuck in her throat like a heavy and bitter lump. She pulled the smoke into herself until the hand holding the cigarette turned into a wooden stump, and when the transformation took place, the cigarette butt fell down of its own accord, looking like a huge falling star reflected in the velvet black sky. Someone pushed again, Christmas tree needles caught on the edge of her fur coat and fell onto the snow, and once the needles fell, she turned around. Ahead, in the hare's mark, loomed a wide man's back with a Christmas tree attached to his shoulder, which danced a fantastic funny dance on its back. The back walked quickly and with each step it went further and further, and then only needles remained in the snow. Frozen (afraid to breathe), she looked at them for a very long time, the needles looked like small lights, and when her eyes dazzled from the artificial light, she suddenly saw that the light coming from them was green. It was very quickly, and then - nothing at all, only the pain, suppressed by the speed, returned to its original place. It stung in her eyes, spun in place, her brain shrank, and inside someone said clearly and clearly “two days until the New Year,” and immediately there was no air, there was bitter smoke, hidden deep in her chest as well as in her throat . A number, black as melted snow, floated out and knocked something off my feet, carried me away through the snow, but not in one place, somewhere - from people, to people.
“Wait, you...” from the side, someone’s heavy breathing reeked of a full range of fusel oils. Turning around, I saw fox eyes under a knitted hat.
- How long can I run after you?
Was someone running after her? Nonsense. It has never been like this - in this world. There was everything, except for two poles - life and death, in complete abundance.
– Did you ask for a ticket before...?
- Let's say.
- Yes, I have it.
- How many.
– I’ll pay you for 50 as if you were my own.
- Yes, let's go..
- Well, a measly 50 bucks, I’m giving it to you as if it were my own, so take it...
- Yeah, one for today, even the lowest place.
She held the ticket up to the lantern.
– Yes, that’s right, in kind, no doubt about it.
The guy crunched and held up a 50 dollar bill to the light.
- And the train is at 2 am.
- I know.
- OK.
He melted into space, like people who do not repeat themselves in daylight melt. “Don’t come, circumstances have changed.”
She grinned. The face was a white blur on the floor with a cigarette butt stuck to his eyebrow. It protruded from under sleepy, drooping eyelids, and, fitting into the dirty circle, it called far, further and further. Where she was, the sharp corners of the chair pressed on her body. Voices merged in my ears somewhere in a forgotten world behind me. A sleepy web enveloped even the facial curves in a non-existent warmth. She bowed her head down, trying to leave, and her face only became a dirty white spot in the station tiles. That night she was no longer herself. Someone born and someone dead changed in ways that could not be imagined. Without falling anywhere, she turned her face away from the floor, where the station lived a nocturnal life that was not subject to consideration. At about one o'clock in the morning a telephone call rang in one of the apartments.
- Where are you?
- I'd like to check out.
– You decided.
- He sent a telegram. One.
- Will he at least wait for you? And then, the address...
– I have to go – it’s there, in the telegram.
- Will you come back?
- Come what may.
– What if you wait a couple of days?
- This makes absolutely no sense.
- What if you come to your senses?
- There is no right to another exit.
- There is no need to go to him. No need.
“I can’t hear well—the receiver is hissing, but you speak anyway.”
- What should I say?
- Anything. As you wish.
- Satisfied, right? There is no other such idiot on earth!
– There are two days left until the New Year.
- At least you stayed for the holiday.
- I have been chosen.
- Nobody chose you.
- Doesn't matter.
- Do not leave. There's no need to go there, do you hear?
Short beeps blessed her path and the stars turned black through the glass of the telephone booth inside the sky. She thought that she was gone, but she was scared to think about it for a long time.
The train crawled slowly. The carriage windows were dimly lit, the light bulb in the reserved seat aisle was dimly lit. Leaning the back of her head against the plastic of the train partition that reflected the ice, she waited for everything to go away and the darkness outside the window to be washed away by those tears that, without appearing in the eyes, do not dry. Small painful trembling has not been trembling for a long time washed glasses. The back of my head hurt from plastic ice. Somewhere inside, a small, chilly animal was whining. “I don’t want...” somewhere inside a small, tired, sick animal cried. “I don’t want to go anywhere, I don’t want to, Lord, do you hear...”
The glass shattered with small painful tremors in time with the train. “I don’t want to leave... the little animal cried, - nowhere at all... I don’t want to go anywhere... I want to go home... I want to go home to my mother...”
The telegram said “don’t come.” This meant that staying was not an option. It seemed to her that, together with the train, she was rolling down the slimy walls of the frozen ravine, with melted snowflakes on her cheeks and Christmas tree needles on the snow, down to the most hopeless bottom, where the frozen windows of former rooms glow with electricity in such a homely way and where deceitful ones dissolve in the warmth. the words that there are windows on earth, to which, having abandoned everything, you can still return... she was trembling, her teeth knocked out tremors where the fast train wheezed in agony. Cringing, she thought about the Christmas tree needles stuck in the snow, and that the telegram said “don’t come,” and that there were two days left until the New Year and that one day (it warmed with a painful artificial warmth) the day would come when she would no longer need to go anywhere drive. Like an old sick beast, the train howled along the rails that happiness is the simplest thing on earth. Happiness is when there is no road.
Red flower
She hugged herself by the shoulders, enjoying the perfect velvety skin. Then she slowly smoothed her hair with her hand. Cold water is a miracle. The eyelids became the same, without retaining a single trace of what... That she cried all night the night before. Everything was washed away by the water, and we could safely move forward. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror: “I am beautiful!” Then she waved her hand indifferently.
She walked through the corridor and found herself where she was supposed to be. She took a glass of champagne from the tray, not forgetting to give a sparkling smile to either the waiter or those around her. The champagne seemed disgusting to her, and a terrible bitterness immediately froze on her bitten lips. But none of those present who filled the large hall would have guessed this. She really liked herself from the outside: a lovely woman in expensive evening dress drinks exquisite champagne, enjoying every sip.
Of course he was there all the time. He reigned, surrounded by his servile subjects, in the heart of the great banquet hall. A socialite, with an easy charm, he strictly follows his crowd. Has everyone come - those who should come? Are everyone enchanted - those who should be enchanted? Is everyone scared and depressed - those who should be scared and depressed? A proud look from under slightly knitted eyebrows said that was all. He was half-sitting in the center of the table, surrounded by people, and, first of all, beautiful women. Most people who met him for the first time were fascinated by his simple-minded, attractive appearance, his simplicity and ostentatious good nature. He seemed to them an ideal - an oligarch who kept it so simple! Almost like an ordinary person, like one of our own. But only those who came into contact with him closer or those who dared to ask him for money knew how, from under the outer softness, a formidable lion’s paw protruded, capable of tearing apart the culprit with a slight movement of a formidable palm.
She knew all his gestures, his words, movements and habits. She kept every wrinkle in her heart like a treasure. The years brought him money and confidence in the future, he greeted them proudly, like an ocean flagship. There were too many other people in his life to notice. Occasionally he noticed her new wrinkles or folds on her body.
- Darling, you can’t do that! You need to take care of yourself! Look in the mirror! With my money... I heard a new beauty salon has opened...
-Who did you hear it from?
He was not embarrassed:
– Yes, a new one has opened and it’s very good! Go there. Otherwise, you will soon look like you are forty-five! And I won't even be able to go out with you.
He wasn't shy about showing off his knowledge of cosmetics or fashion. On the contrary, he emphasized: “You see how the youth loves me!” He was always surrounded by these same “enlightened” golden youth. On either side of him sat the two most recent title holders. One is Miss City, the other is Miss Charm, the third is the face of a modeling agency that dragged its charges to any presentation where there might be at least one earning more than 100 thousand dollars a year. The fourth was new - she had not seen her before, but she was just as evil, mean and impudent as everyone else. Perhaps this one had even more impudence, and she noted to herself that this one would go far. That girl sat half-sitting in front of him right on the banquet table, coquettishly placing her hand on his shoulder, and burst into loud laughter in response to his words, with her whole appearance expressing a greedy predatory grip under the mask of naive carelessness. Women always occupied first places in his circle. The men crowded behind.
Squeezing the glass in her hand, she seemed to be reading her thoughts on the surface of the golden drink. Flattering, ingratiating smiles accompanied her around her - after all, she was a wife. She had been his wife for a long time, so long that he always emphasized this, which meant that she also had the main role.
Cold water is a miracle. She no longer felt her swollen eyelids. Someone touched her with his elbow:
- Ah. Expensive! – it was an acquaintance, the minister’s wife, – you look great! You are a wonderful couple, I always envy you! It’s so great to live for more than 20 years and maintain such ease in relationships! Always look at each other. Ah, wonderful!
Looking up from her annoying chatter, she really caught his gaze. He looked at her and it was like bubbles in champagne. She smiled her most charming smile, thinking that he deserved a chance…. He did not get up when she approached, and the girls did not even think of leaving when she appeared.
-Are you having fun, dear?
- Yes darling. Everything is fine?
- Wonderful! And you?
– I’m very happy for you, dear.
Their dialogue did not go unnoticed. People around thought “what a lovely couple!” And the journalists present at the banquet noted to themselves that they should mention in the article that the oligarch has such a wonderful wife.
- Dear, will you allow me to say a few words?
Taking her by the arm, he led her away from the table.
-Have you finally calmed down?
- What do you think?
“I think it’s bad to worry at your age!”
- Let me remind you that I am the same age as you!
– It’s different for men!
- Is that so?
- Let's not start over! I'm already tired of your stupid invention that I had to give you flowers today! I have so much to do, I’m spinning like a squirrel in a wheel! You should have thought about that! There was no need to cling to me with all sorts of nonsense! If you want flowers, go buy it for yourself, order it, or even buy a whole store, just leave me alone – that’s all!
She smiled her most charming smile:
- I don’t even remember anymore, dear!
- Is it true? - he was delighted, - and I was so angry when you clung to me with these flowers! I have so much to do, and you come up with all sorts of nonsense!
“It was a little woman’s whim.”
- Darling, remember: little feminine whims are only permissible for the young. beautiful girls like those sitting next to me! But it only irritates you!
- I will remember, my love. Don't be angry, don't be nervous about such trifles!
- It’s very good that you are so smart! I'm lucky with my wife! Listen, darling, we won’t be going back together. The driver will pick you up when you're tired. And I’ll go by myself, in my car, I have some things to do…. And don’t wait for me today, I won’t come to spend the night. I'll only be there for lunch tomorrow. And even then, maybe I’ll have lunch at the office and not return home.
- Will I go alone? Today?!
- Lord, what is it today?! Why are you getting on my nerves all day?
- Yes, I take up so little space in your life...
- What does this have to do with it! You take up a lot of space, you are my wife! And I carry you with me everywhere! So don't start!
- Fine, I will not. I did not want.
- That's good! There is nothing left for you to want!
And, grinning, he returned back, where too many - much more important - were waiting impatiently. From his point of view, more special than his wife. She smiled. Her smile was beautiful. It was an expression of happiness - enormous happiness that could not be contained! Returning to the toilet room again and locking the doors tightly behind her, she took out a small mobile phone.
- I confirm. After half an hour.
In the hall, she again lavished smiles - demonstrating (and she did not need to demonstrate, that’s how she felt) a huge surge of happiness. These were the happiest moments - moments of anticipation... So, beaming, she slipped into the narrow corridor near the service entrance, from where the exit was clearly visible, and clung to the window. Half an hour later, familiar figures appeared in the narrow doors. It was her husband's two guards, and her husband. Her husband hugging the new girl. And the kisser is on the go. Everyone hurried to the shiny black Mercedes, the husband’s latest acquisition, which cost 797 thousand dollars. He loved expensive cars. Loved it very much.
The doors swung open and the dark interior of the car swallowed them completely. The guards remained outside. One was saying something on the radio - probably warning those at the entrance that the car was already coming.
The explosion sounded with deafening force, destroying the hotel's illumination, trees and glass. Everything was mixed up: screams, roar, ringing. Fiery tongues of flame that shot up to the very sky licked the mangled body of the Mercedes, turned into a huge funeral pyre.
She hugged herself by the shoulders and automatically smoothed her hair, enjoying the inner voice: “I gave you the most beautiful red flower! Happy wedding day, dear."
