An Old Letter

 

Okay, New Year's story about Valera, who had been sitting in his home office for an hour and felt punished. No, he was not punished, and the truth remained with him, and the pangs of conscience should be felt by others, especially Sveta. But somehow he felt.

This injustice infuriated Valera, but he did not allow himself to get angry and argue. His, Valerkina, was so obvious that speaking it, we would offend the universe. He just sat listening to the sound of water from the kitchen - Sveta was washing the dishes.

Valera was 35 years old, twenty of which he continuously walked up the mountain. He collected his life brick by brick, helped his parents, kept Svetka with the children, did not become an alcoholic, did not start a second family. The last covid year was especially difficult, but it did not break, and by December it had done even more than it seemed possible in the spring.

What did he want at the end of this year? Probably some kind of reward. No, nothing special - he doesn't need monuments. He needs an approving slap of fate. A little respite. Zeroing. He wanted everything to turn out the way he wants at the end of the year. That it was not a reward by prior agreement, through the pain of approvals, through the knee of someone's discontent. He wanted the Universe itself, recognizing his successes, to give out a portion of that spontaneity, carelessness, and light frenzy that marked the best days of life. The family should have understood this first.

It is not his fault that the initial idea to go with classmates to Altai on January 3 led to a double transfer of flights, and the departure now fell on the morning of December 31. It is not his fault that the schedule became denser and his nerves began to fail even before Christmas. But what's so extraordinary? The only spontaneous trip in a year. Small overlay. You could get into the position.

Svetka did not forbid to go - Svetka withdrew herself. “Do as you know” was said in a tone that echoes in my head for days. Sveta left him to explain to the children, but the children - these little executors - did not understand even more. They demanded a tree. Svetka could damn it, dress up this fucking Christmas tree herself, saving him from unnecessary fuss. And now, when he has a little time, he sits in his office, because to leave is to admit defeat.

But this is more than a particular. This is the main question of all life. As a child, he dreamed that he would earn money, buy a gun and learn to shoot - where is that gun? And why does he hesitate? Why does he live by the desires of others? Why does it seem to him that there is a lot of time ahead, although life has already passed halfway? The moment will not come. Vadik was born last year. In the next, Vika will go to school, two years later - Pasha. There will be new branch openings, promotions, bonuses, deadlines, anniversaries ... Where is he behind all this?

Valera stood at a fork. Now his whole life is being decided. He can give up once and for all or do it his way and return his old self. He should not just go to Altai, he should draw up a plan for a whole year or ten years, but after having made it, he should no longer hesitate. Altai will be just the beginning. He must become the self-centered, uncompromising teenager he once was. Because this is his life. Because others should respect that.

An an interesting thought crossed his mind. He opened a drawer and pulled out a crumpled envelope with a black crease obliquely. He planned to open it there, in a chalet in Altai, to read the message with friends, two of whom remember the time when it was written. But the perfect moment was now.

The envelope was brought back in November by Aunt Lisa, her father's sister, who found it behind a dresser in Valera's former bedroom. The letter had been there for thirty years, got wet several times, and now looked like a dried tea bag. The ink letters on the envelope are fluffy. "To Santa Claus" - was listed in the address bar. The letter felt plump to the touch as if there was a softcore under the dry skin.

In this envelope, as in a drop of resin, the real Valera is frozen. Frozen all his desires, his hopes, which over the years have been destroyed by the erosion of time and other people's views. The envelope was the starting point of his life.

What year was it? Valera turned the envelope over. There were no marks. Maybe 92nd? What did he want in 1992? Maybe that radio-controlled yacht that I saw in the pond of the city park? He thought: if so, then he rents a yacht, only a real one, somewhere in Monaco and will sail along the entire western coast of Europe, finishing somewhere in Dover. Valerka imagined walking in the company of the silent captain, and how the stubble on his face trembled from the streams of the salty wind.

Or did he ask for an automotive designer? If he asked for a designer, now he will buy ... No, he already has a car. Car is boring. Well, let it be a motorcycle, especially since he dreamed of a designer, from which he could assemble anything, even a helicopter.

Or maybe he wanted a game console where the wolf catches eggs? He saw such a classmate, and she bewitched him. He never got the prefix, probably because the letter fell behind the chest of drawers. And if he was thinking about a prefix, then now is the time to buy a Playstation5. He even wanted it to be just a prefix because the rest of the gifts were received on hold, and "Playstation" is what you need.

He curved the letter along the crevice and crunched it. The sound was not very pleasant, newspaper-like, like crumbling an onion peel. Valera hooked up the valve with a knife, wondering how hard the glue had adhered. He ripped open the belly of the envelope and emptied the contents onto the table.

Several drawings. Tanks with red stars. Christmas tree. People in square robes. Semicircular smiles. A dog with eyes on the side of the muzzle, like a flounder. Candy wrapper. Insert with a typewriter. Touching sacrifices to Santa Claus.

On a sheet of paper folded in half, letters are drawn in red pencil. The letter began in a businesslike manner: "CHILD MAROSE!" Valera smiled. Probably, he was saving energy, he wrote with his head turned to one side, his tongue sticking out, fearing to make a mistake.

Then there was a large indentation and printed letters, which more and more drowned in the line, said: "I DID MYSELF WELL AND WILL SELL AND AGAIN."

Indent again. The pencil became different, orange. Red either broke, or Valera thought for a long time over the next line.

"DO STOP DAD DO NOT ROUGHALS ON MOTHER".

Below, through an even larger indent: "AND THE STOP DAD WAS GLAZED TOWER"

Valera did not remember that his father and mother had a violent fight on New Year's Eve. They were constantly dogging, but that particular quarrel, which would have ruined his holidays, did not remain in his memory. But Valera remembered the tower well: he erected it from three sets of cubes in the corner of the room and was very proud. Mom grumbled that the tower was interfering with walking to her wardrobe, but she endured it. The tower was rebuilt several times, and the final version was luxurious, but it threatened to collapse from any shaking - even when Sashka was running nearby. And Sashka, feeling this, ran back and forth.

What year was it? Probably 1991. Father was appointed a designer just after the collapse of the Soviet Union when the company was still working. Then he will learn how to get a salary with meat grinders and hairdryers and get used to working for the sake of reports. But in those early years, he saved the plant. He was proud that development was on schedule. He was still thinking in five-year terms.

The father seemed like a lump. Later, Valera will see him as an ordinary person, a little grumpy and balding quickly, learn to argue with him, or even wave his hand in irritation: "Damn, why are you starting?" At the same time, any attention of the father made everything around unusual, as if the things in the room and the room itself were swollen with special significance and became slightly convex, and Valerka became just as bulging with pride. The father's attention separated the world of toys and empty fun from the real world where he was king. Father brought with him the smell of the street and beautiful phrases. The rest of life seemed single.

But that year, my father worked almost around the clock and soon became for Valerka a rustle in the hallway, an alarming whisper, and the clicking of a lock. Valera did not remember if his father had time to see that tower and what became of it: whether it had collapsed from Sashka's heels or whether his mother had unnoticed dismantled it while Valera was in the kindergarten. He remembered almost nothing. However, I did not remember the grievances either. That time still seemed golden to him.

And yet he spent a few obstinate letters on this strange request to an unknown grandfather, in whom he did not particularly believe. He asked him not for a yacht or a designer, but for something that his grandfather probably had nothing to do with.

Valera folded the sheets into an envelope and put them in a desk drawer. He went out into the hall. Vika and Pashka sat at the corners of the sofa, frowning at the cartoon. They looked as if they were reporting the beginning of the war on TV.

- Why are you seated? - Valera snorted. - Who will collect the Christmas tree?

Pashka jumped off the sofa and rushed into the kitchen, shouting:

- Mom, decorate the tree! Faster!

The water in the kitchen stopped. Sveta, clasping Vadik with one hand, stood in the doorway.

“Don't fool your head,” she said. - Pack your things. You still need to go to the garage.

- I will not go, - Valera dismissed, not feeling the inner tragedy. - Burnt out.

- Tickets?

- Yes, I don't care. I’ll spend much more there.

- And Sergeev will call me a shrew. And you henpecked.

- Will not be. He does not go. I would have gone third, but today he cannot. Yes, it's inconvenient for everyone. Did not work out. Okay, we were going to the Ob in May anyway. It is necessary to prepare in advance.

- This is old age, - Sveta noted.

- Old age ... Do you know what? Since I'm not going, I'll order myself a Playstation. Shut up! I will order. I decided so.

- Uh ...

- Quiet! Can I decide at least something in my life? I’ll order it right now, ”Valera pulled a smartphone out of his pocket, muttering:“ You’ll order it now, how…. They will probably bring it by May….

- Don't, - Sveta intercepted his hand, and Vadik slid onto her hip, resembling a koala. “I’m telling you, don’t. We already bought you a set-top box. And if you collect the tree, there will be where to put it.