Life in half

2024 Author: James Gerald | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-17 14:00

Through a dream I understand that it is already morning. She opened her eyelids - it was dark outside the window. You can still sleep. I bow my head to the shoulder sleeping next to me and suddenly - a wild chime. My little pipe screams in such a way that it will raise the dead. I wait until it dies down, turn over on the other side and, again through my sleep, I hear …

- Len, get up.

“No,” I say, settling myself in the cubbyhole between his arm and his side, “you’re the first.”

“I can sleep for another hour,” says a voice from somewhere far away.

- And I can't get up alone, - I answer and again fall into a dream …

Some time passes, I watch the dream, then his hand begins to shake me quietly: "Lenushka, breakfast is ready. Go wash." I open my eyes and see my husband looking at me like a father at a negligent daughter: with love and reproach. He is, of course, right - in the morning I am a terrible mess. I reach for the robe, but they stop me: “Why? We linger a little in the bath, and when I come to the table, the plates are already smoking and the coffee is ready. I cross my eyes on the sink: clean and empty. "I cooked rice porridge. Will it go?" I nod, start eating, and he pours vanilla milk into my coffee.

- Will you be a sausage?

- No, eat it yourself.

- Let's do it in half.

- Let's.

- I turn on the "Cher" disc, take out the meat, put it to defrost. To prepare? There are two cookbooks on the fridge. Let it be fried meat and rice with vegetables. I put in the water, take out the rice, chop the onion. Jeska does not take her eyes off me. Well, a portion - and her. While the rice is cooking and the meat is running out of water, I go to wash. I wipe the floor in the hallway, rinse my hands, cut meat, put it on a hot frying pan, add oil, vinegar, pepper, salt. So, we still need to cut the salad. Cher sings passionately, I sing along, glancing at the clock. Well, everything will be just ready for his arrival. The phone rings again. Mama.

- Didn't you wake me up?

- Mom, today is Wednesday, Kostya has an evening group. He will only be in twenty minutes.

- Well, how are you?

- It's okay, Mom. Everything is just great.

The rice is almost ready, I try it, add more dill, turn off the gas under the pan with meat. I hear the door slam in the entrance, rush into the bathroom and hastily smooth my tousled hair. And I hang on his neck, cold and slightly smelling of "Gillette" aftershave gel.

He does not use eau de toilette, and I do not give it to him on purpose: only I can smell it.

- How warm you are!

I pull off his jacket and press my face against his shirt: flannel, soft, my gift.

- Lenush, is there anything to eat?"

I take him to the kitchen, wait for a compliment and receive it: "What a fine fellow you are with me." He tastes my creativity, and I understand that I have already tried it myself while I was cooking. He looks up:

- Have you already eaten?

- I do not want.

- Exactly? And then come on, I have so much.

I shake my head, put my head on my folded hands and remember the thought I heard somewhere: "A woman experiences the greatest pleasure when she sees her beloved man eating the food she has prepared."

I want to sleep again, I shove the dishes into the sink - it will wait until morning. "Tired?" I nod, climb under the covers, as usual I cuddle up to him, warm, dear. His arms wrap around me, his lips slide over me. I disconnect from the whole world for a few minutes. I hear a whisper:

- Lenush, I put two shirts there, do you wash?

- Okay.

Although I hate this washing machine.

At half past one. There are five hours to sleep. In the morning you will have to nod again.

- Elena Yurievna, what would you like for breakfast?

- It doesn't matter, Konstantin Nikolaevich, cook something.

I close my eyes and dream …