Why are they never selling flowers on gas stones, he thought. Clear business, responded from the inside …The flowers, as you could notice, sometimes decorate the lampposts along the road …Selling flowers on a gas station – a mockery of you, stopped here for five minutes in pursuit of your own « Lobov on the highway ». In addition, where you saw that in flower shops to be closed with gasoline?.. That’s the same.
A gas station on the night Amanyevskoye Shosse (one name for which is worth!) was deserted, modern and pure. The white roof and several square columns made it like a small temple, a kind of pantheon for a visiting god. The walls of the columns were scorched by rain and darkness, they seemed eternal.
Each time, calling on the column, he remembered the same. It was some kind of shot from a film, very old, watched, examined by a boy in a provincial Soviet cinema. There, in the frame, there was the same column, and it also rained, and the main character is beautifully mok under it, leaning on the hood of his racing (or not racing) beast. And there was also night, and the square rug of light spent the whole world hospitably, leaving behind the wall of the night rain everything enemy, alien, evil. Then this whole frame seemed a piece of fairy tale – elegant columns, neon « Shell »on a visor, the unprecedented politeness of the boy’s boy. The accuracy of the cash register windows. And, of course, she, standing at the next column in anticipation of her turn, is beautiful, lonely, awaiting a miracle …She, like Anuk Eme, or Stefania Sandrelli, is unbearably beautiful in this piece of loneliness, drawn by a crooked brush of a night lamp.
Night. Track. Rain. Flashlight. Gasoline …
He whispered in a whisper and got out of the car. The angularly settled to the box office and muttered the dark silhouette behind the window: « fifty in the ninth … »The boy had already unscrewed the gas tank lid, the silhouette hand threw the change into the tray. He took the money and went back …
The rain pounded on the roof, as if lonely, glued to linen, traveler. Outside the column lay wet Moscow, with wolf eyes of its windows. Their flock kept silently, from this dangerous place with firewater.
He got into the car. He made the music louder. In the right rear -view mirror, he saw a boy who fucked his Baby into a gas tank, putting a thick iron yard there. Baby spoke with a murmur in secret places and seemed to be pleased.
He himself was gentle. Funny, unacceptably gentle with your women. Since one of them told him these terrible words: « you are fucking like a woman … », he survived a lot of unpleasant minutes, trying to get better. He learned to be a rude, cruel lover. He learned to beat his girlfriends and with disgusting surprise realized that they like it. He went through the school of humiliation and anger, so as not to lag behind the drinking companions. This was part of the ritual, he accepted it dutifully, realizing that otherwise it simply would not go further. But here, on the gas stones, left alone after a hard day, he allowed himself to relax. With one wave of the hand, all dirty, superficial, and on a narrow strip of tide among the shells in which the sea sings, she remained to stand – the only one, similar to the Anuk Eme …
He knew everything about her. Together they walked a strange way from the Komsomol leaders – to the hiparies voting on the highway, from hiparies to the young hyenas of a new life, which stopped at a crossroads, from a bust – to different roads of survival and salvation. He knew that she was dragging from Morrison, although all her youth danced under « Boni-M »And Italians. He knew that she would never be a mother for her children, but he would be a girlfriend and the third (fourth, fifth) child in the family. He knew that she would beg him to buy a microwave, but he would only cook in a grandmother of a cast -iron pan, swearing on an old gas stove. He knew that for her love is a kiss, and that is why she was famous for the uniform mop at one time, not to mention the current. He felt the approach of her great and real tenderness, as the kid he who put his ear on the rails hears the train vulgaris, long before the boring clicking of the rails would announce to the whole world about its appearance …He loved and waited for her to this day, although he managed to get armor for all occasions …
The fairy of the gas station is a strange bomzhevy old woman who is not visible with the naked eye. But it exists and try to challenge this fact. If you wait for her fate for a truly long time, she will wrap her dry, wrinkled face to you and reward for patience …
When the boy took out a check from the flesh of Baby Granates and was about to close the gas tank cover, a miracle occurred. Or did not happen. Who knows, these miracles?..
From the rain, shaking off the dog, the same character entered the square-like world …On a beautiful, similar to a toy, car, she crossed the line of sedentary dreams and got up twenty centimeters from her happiness. To this very happiness, she also needed the ninety -fifth, and she involuntarily had to form a queue for the only spring for foreign cars, opened at such a later time …
He smiled, groaned with a starter and got out of the car. The new time taught his determination, there was no time for thought. Nino Roth’s music sounded, Mizannsen set off, like a commodity, creaking on the corners and imperiously waving a waybill sheet. In the distant seventies, the boy climbed into his pants, or going to find a seed there, or deciding to sway the entire series of hunger -shaped seats of the seats with his impudent thickening. There was nowhere to retreat again. He was used to it, and each time retreated with surprise that the world remained standing, where he stood …
She left her toy and went up to him, smiling. She looked like Stefania Sandrelli, and Nino’s music was only gaining momentum. Clarins have not yet entered, but the violins have already prepared a quagmire, leaving the walking a little chance …
– You are broken? She asked.
“Alas,” he answered, and every broken bone of his soul responded to this question with her creak.
– Sorry …Can I help with anything?…
Recall that the rain did not stop. Its walls were in place, and a small pantheon, cramped for two gods, threatened to climb the air with all its contents. The boy tried to reach her hose to her car, but he did not work out. Shrugging his shoulders, he returned to a warm nook, leaving events to go his own way.
And the events went as a turn …
***
…She really loved Morrison, although she always danced under « Boni-M ». However, the scandalous guest « Per-lashez »And now he haunted her poor heart with a bird beating in him. She loved children, but treated them with pan -science cordiality, not even allowing thoughts about maternal severity. Their passions were clear to her, and she locked herself with the children in the nearest closet, in order to curse the adult world with his blindness and heartlessness in a whisper. If she had to cook, she took the grandmother to Babkin and fried on her delicious meat in the world. And further. She did not like sex. Rather, she did not like rudeness in love, and found the strength to repel each boyfriend, crossing the invisible feature …You see, she really liked to kiss …And further. She never saw films about night gas stations, but she really liked the walls from the rain, and she instinctively reached for the first one that came across so as not to feel completely lonely and no one needed …Needless to say, she, the former girl-automotive man, and now Mrs. Cassirer, was like two drops of water similar to Anuk Ema …Although the guests of the gas station saw only her silhouette lit along the contour with a black and white cash monitor.
She liked this aging boy, standing above the hood of her « Merses ». He was out of here, out of this loneliness, from this night rainy benzo-column, refueling people and their cars with something that would allow them to move on …
– Fuck your mother! – said the fairy of the gas station, sitting down next to her dark silhouette: – And so – all her life!
Then she looked around and added:
– Do not see you at all, daughter. Soldress, don’t conjure, but it’s time to change the light bulb.
She laughed, loudly how only children can laugh. And poured a fairy of strong coffee.
And the boy slammed his baby hood and went with a new doll in the rain. Who has not laundered anyone yet.
– ZIS from Ze end …- sang Jim.
“Let’s see,” she answered.
The fairy choked coffee and melted in gasoline pairs. She was left alone. Except for the rain, of course.
© Mr. Kiss, one hundred fragments of one feeling, 1998-1999.
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