Stories

Reality

The automatic gates slowly opened, and a black executive-class car drove into the territory of a luxurious three-story mansion. It passed by a gazebo and a guest house, turned right near a fountain, and smoothly stopped at the porch. A man in a black tuxedo got out of the rear door, and then his wife in a long, floor-length red evening dress. The man told his driver that he was free for the day. And following his wife, who had already disappeared behind the door, he began to slowly ascend the porch steps and entered the house. He was somewhat saddened and troubled. Slowly walking up the wide marble staircase to the third floor, he unbuttoned his jacket on the go. Entering the bedroom, he took it off and put it on a chair.

– Darling, what’s happening with you again, – the displeased woman said, taking a diamond necklace off her neck, – I had to explain to everyone all evening why you were so sad. I didn’t tell the real reason, of course, as I consider it foolishness! So I had to improvise, to lie. I said you had a migraine.

– It’s not foolishness at all, – the man muttered, – but a dream.

– Exactly, just a stupid dream! And you were not yourself at today’s dinner party. Sat off somewhere to the side. And that dinner was very important for you! If you even remember? These people are major investors. You need them! Or have you changed your mind about expanding your business?

The woman took off her dress and carried it to the walk-in closet.

– I remember everything! It’s just… – the man took off his trousers and put them on the chair, on top of the jacket.

– What ’just’? – she quickly walked out of the closet, took the jacket and trousers from the chair, and went back in. – Pull yourself together, darling, you are a major businessman! Don’t let your dreams manipulate you! – she said loudly, already from the closet.

The man sat on the bed, took off his socks, and lay under the blanket:

– I just don’t understand, what is this dream for? Maybe it’s warning me about something?

The woman came out of the closet and went into the bathroom:

– Don’t talk nonsense, darling! Do you really believe in that?

– I don’t know… – he became thoughtful. – Anything can happen in life!

She came out of the bathroom and lay in bed:

– No! A dream is just a dream, – she hugged him, – our brain during sleep reproduces all sorts of things. All of a person’s experiences and everything he saw during the day!

– I dream of a large old oak tree, from which yellow leaves are falling. Where could I have seen it here? There are palm trees all around here. And summer 365 days a year. And I certainly don’t think about it. That’s for sure!

– That’s clear, but… remember, you told me once that you dreamed of the same oak, but with green leaves?

– Of course, I remember. That’s what bothered me! Then they were green, and now… they’re falling!

– Darling, I thought about it, and you know, there’s nothing terrible about it. It’s just that when you first dreamed of that oak, it was spring. And now it’s autumn. That’s all! We live here, and because of the local climate, we don’t notice it. But your biological clock cannot be fooled! Back where we come from, it really is autumn now. And oaks grow there. By the way!

The man thought:

– Well… maybe you’re right…

– Of course, I’m right! Don’t worry and don’t depress yourself. It was just a stupid dream, that’s all! Reality is completely different, – she kissed him on the lips, – let’s sleep, darling, you have an important meeting tomorrow. And after it, let’s go somewhere, have some fun. Let’s sleep, it’s very late already.

– Okay. Good night, my love. Thank you for the support!

– You’re welcome, darling, – the woman yawned, – sweet dreams.

A minute later, they were fast asleep.

Reality… it really was different!

The reality where he was a successful businessman was created by his fevered brain,

which had long been living a life separate from him.

In the real reality, he was not rich. He did not have luxurious mansions

on the azure coast. And he was never married.

In reality, he had been in a psychiatric hospital for several years in an extremely

serious condition. And his favorite pastime was to silently watch from the window

all day at a large, old oak tree that grew in the middle of the courtyard. From the branches of which, for the third

day in a row, yellow leaves were slowly falling.

Childhood Friend

The class reunion was in full swing in a restaurant rented for the evening. Fifteen years had passed since the friendly 11 «A» graduated from school, and now they were gathered together again. Dim lights, slow music playing. Some were dancing, some, having pushed tables together, were having an animated conversation. And some were just sitting and bored. Igor was among the latter. More precisely, he wasn’t so much bored as sad. There had been no news from his school friend Sergei for many years. And Igor really wanted to talk to him, to recall the wonderful school years. He was sitting in proud isolation at a table and sipping wine from a glass. Suddenly, Altufyev appeared before him – a bulky, stout man. Even in school, he had stood out because of his weight, and over the years since graduation, he seemed to have become even more massive. In school, he was considered a bully, and Igor tried to avoid him. And now this very bully sat down at his table, furrowed his brows, and with a serious look asked: – How are things, Potapov? Igor nervously swallowed and, stuttering, answered: – Fine… Why? – Seryoga didn’t come? – Unfortunately, no, – Igor answered sadly. – Did you call him? – No. – Why? Igor paused briefly before answering, wondering why Altufyev was asking about Seryoga? After all, he wasn’t friends with him. Didn’t even talk to him. – I don’t have his phone number. – What? – Altufyev smirked. – You’ve been friends with him since first grade. You were always together, thick as thieves. And you’re telling me you don’t have his phone number? Nonsense! – Well, I had his number… before. He probably changed it. – Suppose. And did you look for him on social networks? – No, – Igor answered, lowering his gaze shamefully. – Why? – I don’t know. – What do you mean, you don’t know? – Altufyev pressed on, like an investigator during an interrogation. He’s your best friend! And you’re telling me you haven’t looked for him? What kind of friend are you after that?

Igor wiped his forehead, wet with excitement:

– I… looked… Of course, I looked for him. I just didn’t find him. That’s all!

– I see! – Altufyev said, smiling. – And did you go to his house?

– What for? – Igor was surprised.

– What do you mean, what for? You know where he lives, don’t you?

– I know.

– Well, there you go. Can’t reach him by phone – you should have gone to his house!

– He moved from there, – Igor quickly answered.

– Long ago?

– Right after finishing school.

– Alone or with his parents?

– With his parents, of course. Where would he go without them.

– I see… – Altufyev said distrustfully. – Listen, Potapov. Igor. Do you know what I do now? Do you know who I am?

– No, – Igor answered fearfully and, quickly looking around, nervously fidgeted on his chair.

– I am a psychologist. A good, highly paid psychologist with extensive experience and a reputation. I’ve written five books on psychology. Give lectures to students. A very respected and authoritative person in the world of psychology.

– I see, – Igor said slowly and tensely.

– I became a psychologist thanks to you!

– What do you mean? – Igor was surprised.

– In the literal sense! Thanks to you and your friend Seryoga. – He smiled and continued with inspiration, his eyes shining: – After finishing school, I became interested, and I decided to study this phenomenon more thoroughly. And I got so carried away that I became who I am!

– I don’t understand. What are you talking about? What phenomenon?

– Igor, – Altufyev moved his chair slightly closer and looked intently into his eyes, – there is no Seryoga!

– How’s that?

– Just like that! You made him up! Children often do that. Out of loneliness, they invent friends for themselves.

Igor smiled:

– What nonsense, ’made him up’. I sat at the same desk with him.

– You sat alone! You invented a friend for yourself and blindly believed in his existence for many years. And after finishing school, you convinced yourself that he moved to another city and changed his phone number.

Igor silently lowered his head.

– Amazing! Your brain not only invented what he looks like. It gave him a name and surname, invented where he lives and what his parents look like. Created all your dialogues and even his hobbies. Remind me, what did he collect?

– Stamps… with cosmonauts, – Igor answered quietly, without raising his head.

– Marvelous, what the human brain is capable of, Potapov! The more

I study it, the more it amazes me. So thank you for my bright future!

– You’re welcome, – Igor muttered half-heartedly.

– You know, Potapov, I was also a loner in school. Everyone was afraid of me because of my build and my serious, as everyone thought, stern face. They avoided me like the plague, barely catching sight of me. And it’s not my fault I was born so large and with a serious expression. I also wanted to be friends with someone. With you, for example, I would have gladly been friends. But as soon as I approached you, you immediately ran away. I watched you, as if you were talking with Seryoga. As you let him copy homework in class, carefully, so the teacher wouldn’t notice. As you walked home together after school. I saw how you were sad without him when he was supposedly sick. I observed all this and envied your friendship! I envied and didn’t understand why you would invent a friend for yourself when you could be friends with a real person. With me, for example.

Potapov, if only you knew how lonely I was! No one wanted to be friends with me! Over time, I got used to being alone. I became rude and angry. And only studying psychology saved me from many troubles in life. Who knows where my anger could have led me! So… Thank you. Well… that’s about it.

Igor looked at Altufyev with a guilty expression:

– Forgive me. I didn’t know you were a good guy. Your appearance really was very intimidating!

They both smiled.

– If only I had known… Sorry!

– Oh, come on, it’s alright. You just fell under the power of stereotypes! If a person is big and has a serious face, then he must be a bully. Many people are still afraid of me. And I don’t even know how to fight.

They exchanged smiling glances again.

– Listen, – Igor said, – I’m so embarrassed, but I don’t even know your first name. Everyone always called you by your last name.

– My name is Sergei.

– Seriously? – Igor laughed. – Wow. I would never have thought. So, it turns out, I could have had a friend Seryoga!

– You could have! – Altufyev smiled.

– Well, since we’ve cleared everything up and apologized to each other, maybe then… If you don’t mind, we can communicate, be friends? If friendship didn’t work out in childhood, maybe it will now?

– I’m all for it! – Altufyev answered, smiling. – I’ll tell my wife, she’ll be shocked.

– Mine too, – Igor chuckled, – she only knows you from my stories as a bully.

– You see… Stereotypes!

– Sorry, Seryoga!

– It’s alright. It happens!

They spent the rest of the evening, chatting casually and cheerfully with each other.

Notice in the Entrance

February. Almost ten in the evening. Vyacheslav came home from work. And, somehow taking a shower and having dinner, collapsed exhausted onto his favorite sofa. He works as a loader in a warehouse and moonlights there as a security guard. His work schedule is insane. The devil himself would break his head figuring it out! But he has no choice! He works as best he can and doesn’t complain about life. In his 35 years, Vyacheslav had managed to be a husband, a father, and the happy owner of a brand new mortgaged two-room apartment in the city center. But… something went wrong… and now he is alone! He left the apartment to his ex-wife and growing daughter. And he himself moved into a one-room apartment that he inherited from his grandmother. Mortgage, alimony, utilities, he has to work a lot! He almost never sees his daughter. Simply no time! Five or six hours of sleep – and back to work. With two transfers across the whole city almost every day, without vacations or sick leave. He doesn’t make plans, he lives for today. And all he needs is just peace and quiet!

To get some sleep, to rest, and in the morning to plunge headlong into his «groundhog day,» which has already been going on for three years! And there’s no end in sight to this day. Peace and quiet – that’s what he needs. And that’s what he doesn’t have! As it happened, on one side of his wall is the elevator, and on the other – the garbage chute. Rumbling is replaced by grinding, and grinding by noise. Noise, in turn, turns back into rumbling. And so on, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week! Vyacheslav often asked himself:

– Does this building ever sleep? Do these people ever rest?

But after a couple of minutes, the answer came by itself… in the form of rumbling, grinding, and noise! And also, the neighbor from the floor above took to smoking near the garbage chute. And all the smoke, naturally, immediately entered Vyacheslav’s apartment. And since he didn’t smoke and couldn’t stand the smell of tobacco smoke, this neighbor’s habit caused him wild discomfort. He repeatedly tried to talk to him and ask him not to smoke near his door. But all conversations ended very quickly. The neighbor silently closed his door in his face. Vyacheslav didn’t want to complain to the police or the housing office. But something had to be done. He had long grown accustomed to the noise of the elevator and garbage chute, but he wasn’t going to get used to the neighbor’s insolence! Vyacheslav decided to write a notice and hang it in the entrance. Hoping that the neighbor would be ashamed and he would stop smoking where he shouldn’t! He took a sheet of paper and a pen and started writing the notice:

– Dear neighbor from apartment No. 30. An earnest request to you: do not smoke on the stairwell. First, it is illegal. You face a fine for this! And second, by going down a couple of steps, you will find yourself outside, where you can smoke without harming anyone. (Except yourself, of course.) Tobacco smoke enters my apartment, and breathing it brings me no pleasure! I hope for your understanding and adequacy. Respectfully, your neighbor from apartment No. 26.

The deed is done! The notice is written. Vyacheslav, armed with tape, went out into the entrance and stuck his notice on the information board. The next evening, when he was returning from work and passing by his notice, he noticed that someone had written something on it… Coming closer, he read it. Apparently, it was an answer from that very neighbor. It was uncomplicated and consisted of just two words, with three exclamation marks at the end. That very neighbor suggested that Vyacheslav go where normal men don’t go! Large letters, drawn with a black marker, stood out and clearly made it understood that his words and request had been ignored and unheard!

– That’s it, enough! – Vyacheslav exhaled.

He tore off his notice and slowly walked to his apartment. Arriving home, he changed into a tracksuit and, taking a rubber service baton in his hand, went to the neighbor upstairs. On that frosty February evening, it was noisy in their entrance… Police. An ambulance… One went to the hospital with broken ribs, and the other – to the police station. Where he finally got some sleep! Even if behind bars.

A Good Life

Midnight. In a ward of a private clinic somewhere on the edge of the city, a sick old man was dying.

He lay on a bed, breathing heavily and intermittently. His almost transparent pale skin was covered with yellow-brown age spots. A grimace of terrible pain and fatigue contorted his face. Deeply sunken blue eyes had already lost their former color and were cloudy, but still radiated kindness. A chair stood next to his bed. On it, hunched over, sat his wife. A thin, wrinkled, elderly woman with gray hair gathered in a bun on the top of her head, and kind, reddened from fatigue eyes. She held his hand and carefully wiped blood from his lips with paper napkins when he coughed.

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