Red Star

The ear ached. It hurt so much that this pain managed to disturb even the sweetest morning sleep. I tore my head off the pillow and immediately discovered the cause of the trouble. I fell asleep with headphones from a brand new 6th iPhone tucked into my ears and now my left ear was unmercifully sore. - "It's good at least I didn't crush the iPhone ..." - a thought flashed. I pulled out the crushed device from under his side and put it with the charger and headphones stuck in on the bedside table, after which he leaned back with relief on the pillow, intending to continue the inopportunely interrupted sleep ... - "FUUUCK !!!" - only now the whole sequence of actions performed and what was seen at the same time reached the inhibited brain. An inner spring made me jump up on the bed as if stung and sit up with my eyes wide open. It's incredible! I am not me, my hands are not mine, my legs are not mine, the room is not mine! - "f**k! What's going on ?!" - the heart thrashed madly, and the awakened brain was frantically looking for a rational explanation for what the eyes saw. And they saw the following ... Thin arms, red underpants and hairless and also thin legs ... all this is not mine and somehow unnatural, or something ... An unfamiliar room, strange furniture, a tightly curtained window. Some distant, not yet recognized, but already vaguely familiar images swirled in my head. They condensed into meaning, into intelligible thought and an inherently incredible guess ... I tried to get up. The unfamiliar body obeyed, but all the movements turned out to be some kind of uncertain and cautious. Listening cautiously to the silence reigning around me, at first slowly, and then more and more confidently accelerating, I moved towards the tightly closed door leading out of the room. Feverishly and impulsively, he pulled her towards himself and jumped out into the corridor of his apartment ... his apartment ... his childhood apartment ... from many years ago ... Slapping his bare feet on the cold floor, he rushed through the corridor into the second room. Now everything was unmistakably recognized and remembered. Without the slightest difficulty and doubt. I was in my childhood apartment! Hands and feet, which seemed strange at first, in fact just turned out to be childish. - "Sleeping ?!" - the coldness of the floor was felt quite clearly, I saw everything around clearly, albeit in the twilight. The hand automatically found the switch, so there was no need not to search and remember where it was. Bright light flooded the living room ... Romanian polished set: two sideboards, one with Czech crystal and a tea set, the other with books. A polished table, chairs around it, a Romanian green sofa, in the corner a huge colored "Ruby" and two red carpets: one, simpler, on the floor, the second, richer with an intricate abstract pattern, on the wall ... All things are familiar and long rotted in the trash. It seems ... They were supposed to rot in the trash heap, but now, by some unknown whim, the intact and very elegant stood in their rightful places in the bright light of the GDR chandelier. A wild thought flashed through: "There is no German Democratic Republic, but there is a chandelier ...", it was replaced by another: "maybe there is a GDR, since there is a lamp," then: "What does this have to do with the lamp and this f*****g GDR" and, finally, "Stop! It can not be!!!" Almost howling in a voice with impatience, I rushed to the bedroom. I almost flew my head into the closet, I ran around the bed, jumped to the bedside table and grabbed the iPhone6 with all the wires sticking out of it. I even shook him triumphantly above my head, dancing with impatience. So what? Well, I don't know what I expected ... I just realized that my childhood and the sixth iPhone are incompatible! And if I take it in my hands, then what? .. Wake up? My head was buzzing, my ears were ringing, my vision was kind of "tunnel" - I clearly see only in front of me, some sort of blurry lateral. Still, probably a dream. "Well, really, but what else ?! Transfer of consciousness? And the iPhone ?! Also transferred with consciousness?" At that moment I realized that I clearly think that I am reasoning with myself and even tried to ironicize now. And yet, my legs were godlessly cold! Blah, why is it so cold in a dream? Automatically, i went to the curtained window and, freezing from expectation of something terrible, pulled the curtain back to the right. And nothing... A picture familiar from distant childhood: gloomy, courtyard, sandpit, swing, bare trees, snow ... Several windows in the house opposite are brightly lit. "What time is it? And where are the people ?!" At that moment, a car drove along the house opposite. A passenger car, the model could not be identified, it was still too dark. As before, clutching the iPhone in my hands, i returned to the lighted large room. Somewhere in the subcortex I remembered that there was a wall clock. "08-37 it's obvious morning." Slowly stepping over, with already very cold feet, I trudged to the kitchen. He turned on the light, everything long forgotten and well known. White, also a GDR kitchen set, a clock and a timer with red dials "08-36" hang nearby. In the corner, a white "Minsk" humming faintly. The kitchen table is empty, with a kettle, a saucepan, and a cast-iron frying pan on the stove. Everything is old, antediluvian, recognizable and imperceptibly dear. On the kitchen radiator under the windowsill there is something wrapped in something, a sheet of paper is stuck on top. On stiff legs, completely stiffened by nerves and cold, I went up to this bale and pulled the leaf towards me with a trembling hand. The letters jumping before my eyes, nevertheless, merged into words. In a clear beautiful handwriting, which I will not forget until my death, it was written: "Son! Good morning! For breakfast are cheesecakes and lemongrass. For lunch, soup and cutlets with mashed potatoes. They are in the fridge. Warm up yourself! Wake up, measure the temperature and call. Kisses. Mum." Out! .. Nerves burst. I sank to the floor and cried bitterly. *** Mom died 15 years ago and for me it was the biggest tragedy that happened in my generally prosperous life. Before that, I only once, at a conscious age, lost a loved one, when my grandfather, my mother's dad, died. He lived separately from us, but we communicated very closely, he loved me very much, always gave me something, tried to help us and was my "favorite grandfather." As long as I remember him, he worked as the director of one of the State Military Archives. He drove a black Volga, always wore dark suits with badges, a tie, a white shirt and glasses in a thin gold frame! He was a retired naval seaman - retired captain of the first rank, war veteran, order bearer, very respectable and personable. Therefore, when other children, when asked what they want to become when they grow up, answered: "an astronaut, a fireman, a reconnaissance officer, etc.", I always said that I want to become a "director"! When he died, I was very worried, and at his commemoration for the first time in my life I got drunk. I remembered my father very vaguely, in fact, only one plot remained in my childhood memory: I try to get off the couch, and dad, laughing cheerfully, holds the laughing mother with his hands, and gently holds me with his feet and does not allow me to get off the floor. I laugh desperately and struggle ... His airplane MiG was shot down somewhere in Africa, when I was 4 years old, he did not have time to eject. And all our lives, instead of father and husband, we had a military pension of 220 rubles a month. I lived with my mother until I was 35, when she was suddenly diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. At first I moved to live with her, and together we went to see doctors, ours and foreign ones. Then we moved to live in a hospital and stayed there for about a year. In one room. Even then I was a big boss and had even more, bosses in friends. Therefore, there were opportunities to do everything that was possible and not. At times it was better and worse, but all that was undertaken was not enough to defeat the disease. Mom died in my arms. Part of me died with her. To say that it was hard or bad for me is to say nothing. I was not a mummy boy, in the conventional sense. We lived separately in Moscow. After all, I became a "director" - the head of one of the Main Directorates of the Ministry of Justice; I drove, though not in the chic black Volga GAZ-24, but also in a quite decent official Mercedes S-class, with a no less service driver. From time to time he tried to live with various beautiful girls, but he was in no hurry to marry.  My mother, not without humor, commented on my personal life: "Choose the one that you like, because I will not like any one!" To which we both laughed, no matter how many times this phrase would not sound.  I was already a grown man and a great boss, not stupid, not poor, moderately cynical, not mistaken either on my own account or on someone else's. Well, and pretty much ... disappointed or something   I  didn't like at all what and how was happening in the country, but I did not dare to play either a revolutionary or a leader. Of course I used my official position, but did not steal.  Believe me, it’s quite possible in Russia. Why didn't i steal? Well, I don’t even know ... Probably because I was brought up in such a way that STEALING IS BAD. Of course, i was also afraid of the consequences, but only a few were responsible for their actions, and theft and corruption flourished everywhere. Therefore, all the same, the main reason was the REFUSAL to steal. So, I didn't make billions, but I had a couple of millionaires in euros, as well as a couple of Moscow apartments, a car and a summer house. At work everything went well, I did not occupy the first seats in key departments, so I never flew down during the regular ministerial shake-ups. Moreover, after the last conversation in the Personnel Department of the Presidential Administration, I realized that I was really being considered for a ministerial post, precisely because of my lack of engagement in any group. Things were not going well in the country, and the previous cadre of associate friends could not change the situation. The instinct of self-preservation demanded that the President look for new performers. Apparently, they "found" me too. And then my mother suddenly fell ill and died. Somehow all at once, something fundamental, some meaning was lost. Most likely, if I had a family and children, nothing later happened, but I never got one or the other. First I quit my job, and then my life ... I just existed for two years ... Sometimes I drank. But not for long and not fatal. Then I came to my senses a little, simultaneously with the realization that there was not long to live, and I didn’t even see the planet on which I was born. And I found in this a temporary meaning of life. For 10 years I have visited five continents and, it seems, in 31 countries. I was not flamboyant - I did not take limousines, yachts and private planes, and there was no corresponding money for them. I began to travel as part of excursions with Russian groups and disciplinedly examined various sights. Over time, when I got used to it, I began to drive myself ... In some places i remained to live. I was not drawn to my homeland, the pain did not go away, and new places, impressions and people well distracted me from my thoughts. Having nothing to do, I began to study some languages of the countries where I stayed. I already knew a little English, but while i lived in Miami and Ottawa, it pulled up my language to a good level. In the USA, i did not go further than Florida, because i met Olesya in Miami. Olesya was a very pretty 22-year-old girl from Ukraine, from Mariupol, and studied, by exchange, at the University of Ottawa, and during the holidays she illegally worked as a waitress in the United States in one eatery, where I accidentally went to have a bite. I didn’t speak English very well then, and during the order I inserted a couple of Russian words, and so we met. I tried to flirt, Olesya did not refuse. Ten days later I took her to my rented bungalow on the ocean shore and the rest of the summer months just rested together and flew to Las Vegas a couple of times!   Olesya turned out to be a philologist of English literature and clearly possessed, among other merits, a teaching gift, greatly raising my level of proficiency in American English. Then we flew to Ottawa, where Olesya studied, and I traveled around Canada, constantly returning to her. Once I caught myself thinking that I think of Olesya as something more than a hobby. Therefore, I packed my things, paid for the hotel and went to her apartment, where she usually came after university, before going to me. We met, said that he had to leave, left her $ 50,000. She took it with delight, thanked me warmly, in joy even forgot to pretend that she was upset by my departure. Mentally i laughed maliciously at myself and flew away across the ocean to Europe. In Rimini I had Paola, she didn't speak English well, and Italian was surprisingly easy to learn. Six months later, I chatted on it completely freely and even though I could not get away with an Italian with my Slavic physiognomy, I did not experience any difficulties in communicating with the ridiculous descendants of the great Romans. In Cuba had Alicia and Spanish. In Rio - Thais and Portuguese. In German Kassel i found a common language with Irma. In Paris, i tried to learn how to lisp under the guidance of Berenice. Nice good girls, never a w***e. But after Olesya, I no longer counted on anything. Each, upon parting, left a large amount of money and none REALLY wanted to take it. Hello Olesya! In the end, everyone took ... Well, what else could an elderly and not too cheerful Russian give? But all of them sincerely, as it seems to me, cried, seeing me off at the airports.  Once I discovered that money was running out. I took it calmly and bought a ticket to Moscow. There is a lot of my property left there. Three empty apartments, including my mother's, a nice house with a large plot in New Riga, etc.  Under these circumstances, I fell asleep in my new St. Petersburg apartment on Krestovsky Island, but I woke up ... Here ... As a child ... in an old two-room apartment on Vasilievsky st ... I don't know why, how, why, by whose will ... And even with this, alien here, the sixth iPhone! The curtain...