Call in silence

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

The first snow fell in the morning. Huge white fluffy flakes slowly circled in the air, gradually descending lower and lower, as if dancing, obeying their own motive. Some snowflakes immediately merged with the dirt on the asphalt, turning into ordinary dampness, others lingered on the withered grass, gradually weaving into a light cold blanket - a lace gift to the earth from the queen-winter, coming into its own.

Maria Nikolaevna got up from her chair, walked slowly to the window, pulled back the heavy dark yellow curtains and looked for a long time at the predawn, still half asleep, city, sinking in a translucent white veil of snow. She loved this city. She lived here all her life and every street, every intersection, every alley was dear to her, hid her memories, remembered fragments of her childhood, kept the naive dreams of her youth….

Somewhere in the distance dim lights loomed in the white haze - these were several windows of someone else's apartments, randomly scattered over the dark machines lined up in a row of houses. Sometimes the noise of passing cars was heard - a light rustle of tires on the asphalt. The city was beginning to wake up…. Maria Nikolaevna winced slightly, involuntarily touching the left side of her chest with her hand - in recent years, her heart more and more often reminded of itself with a dull aching pain.

She returned to the back of the room, sank into a deep armchair, flicked the switch of an old table lamp with a wicker beige lampshade on the bedside table, reached out to bring a sheet of paper lying alone on the edge of the table, keeping several lonely scattered lines, hastily scrawled in jagged handwriting - her daughter's. Nastya rarely wrote. Maria Nikolaevna received her last letter about three years ago, at Christmas - Nastya wrote that everything is fine with her, that she and her husband had recently returned from Spain, where they spent an unforgettable 10 days, complained that, unfortunately, she could not find even a couple days to visit his mother, but he always promises to do so as soon as possible. All her news fit into several dozen lines, which Maria Nikolaevna knew by heart - she no longer remembered how many times she had reread this letter. Even now, with trembling hands, she laid the sheet on her lap and looked at it for a long time, as if trying to read at least something else between the lines, then turned her gaze to the photograph that had lived on the shelf for so many years next to the dark embossed bindings of books. From outside the frame, her daughter's beloved eyes smiled at her. How long ago it was….

Recently, Maria Nikolaevna felt with pain how Nastya was moving away from her - she was swallowed up by household chores, a promising job, the desire to make a career …. She did not blame her - she simply regretted that for several years she herself had not been able to drive a little less than a couple of hundred kilometers, having spent only three and a half hours to look into her daughter's eyes, standing in front of her, hug, gently stroke her brown hair - just like once in childhood, when Nastya loved so much to put her head on her lap and talk about everything that happened to her during the day….

Sometimes the silence of the empty apartment was broken by a sharp phone call and Maria Nikolaevna, picking up the receiver, with hidden hope expected to hear her daughter's voice muffled by the distance. Nastya called very rarely, and never spoke for a long time - it took her five minutes to find out how she was doing and to tell her that she was fine. Then Maria Nikolaevna thoughtfully stroked the telephone receiver for a few seconds, as if she could keep the intonation of her beloved voice even for a moment, and a faint smile played on her wrinkled face. Something poked weakly in my heart again.

Glancing at her watch, Maria Nikolaevna sighed - it's time to take another portion of the pills, which over the past four months have managed to fill the entire cabinet in the kitchen. She understood that they were unlikely to help her get rid of chest pains, but she continued to follow the instructions of the doctors - when she last spent almost two weeks in the clinic, they explained to her for a long time that this was necessary, trying to paint the whole complex picture of her condition. Maria Nikolaevna only smiled faintly: "Doctor, you can't escape fate, you know better than me that I don't have much time left."

She spent several long days in the clinic, but unlike other patients, she was not eager to get out of there as soon as possible - no one was waiting for her at home. The only thing that worried her was that Nastya did not know anything about what was with her and where she was. What if she calls? She will not find anyone at home for several days, and may get scared, thinking that something terrible has happened. She didn't want to worry her daughter.

- Do your relatives know that you are here? a nurse once asked, handing her a pill and a glass of water.

Maria Nikolaevna raised her affectionate senile eyes to her, wanted to ask something, but then changed her mind and simply shook her head.

- No.

Nastya called a few days after Maria Nikolaevna returned home after being discharged from the hospital.

- How are you, mom? - came her pleasant, chesty voice, - I called a couple of days ago, you were not at home.

- Yes I…. Yes, Nastya, I was not there, - Maria Nikolaevna smiled into the phone, - everything is all right, daughter. How are you there? How is Boris? How is Olenka?

- As usual, Borya went on a business trip for a week, Olenka got sick a little in the morning, I didn't let her go to school.

- What with her? - worried about her granddaughter Maria Nikolaevna.

- It's okay, I got a little cold.

Maria Nikolaevna wanted to tell her daughter that it would be better for the girl to stay at home until she recovers completely and that there is no need to give her all sorts of modern super potions, and that the best remedy for colds is honey, lemon and tea with raspberry jam. But she said nothing, knowing that Nastya would hasten to mumble into the telephone receiver: "Come on, Mom!"

- Well, okay, Mom, I'll run already - it's time for me, - Maria Nikolaevna heard and sighed with regret, not wanting to part with this voice, - otherwise I'll be late for an important meeting. I will call soon!

- Take care of yourself, daughter, - Maria Nikolaevna smiled, - don't worry about me.

- Okay, you take care of yourself too. Bye!

Short beeping beeps in the telephone receiver brought Maria Nikolayevna back to reality - she slowly lowered her onto the lever and with heavy steps went into the room - for some reason she wanted to lie down a little, relax …. She's probably just tired, exhausted.

Wrapped in a warm fluffy shawl, Maria Nikolaevna lay down on the sofa - her heart ached more and more. "The pill should be drunk," flashed through her head when she closed her eyes, "and write a letter to Nastya tomorrow." It was as if something had touched the suddenly heavy eyelids, and she felt herself slowly falling into the darkness.

… It was getting dark outside the window. The cold wind gently touched the windows in sharp gusts, making them shake slightly. There was silence in the room. Only the measured ticking of an old wall clock, hanging above the sofa against the wall, which had been regularly counting seconds, minutes, hours, could be heard through it. Only a sudden phone call suddenly cut this silence for a few seconds, and after a moment it was repeated again, then again. A minute later, silence reigned in the apartment again - after all, there was no one there who could pick up the phone.

Albina