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© Gleb Karpinsky, 2025
ISBN 978-5-0068-0402-9
Создано в интеллектуальной издательской системе Ridero
FIRE
It was hot as hell over the farm. It’s already the middle of summer, and not a single drop of rain. Only the dew in the morning slightly touched the withered leaves of zucchini, but is this really the case? The temperature during the day under the scorching sun rose in the forties. Any movement was given with effort. All living things fled to the shade of acacia trees, and people sat in their huts. Only the fields were being worked on. They were harvesting wheat there. Oddly enough, it was early July, and the giant harvester was rattling along, cutting down the low ears of corn that were already beginning to crumble in the steppe wind. When he had gone all the way across the field and returned, he would drive up to a truck parked on the outskirts of the city, and the grain would quickly pour into the back of the truck. Then, empty, he walked again across the field, along a new row, and so it was repeated several times.
Yegor stood on the hill and watched the grain growers work. He had seen all this both last year and the year before, but usually in August. Yes, this year it was a very hot summer, even by the standards of the south, the heat confused plans, ruined hopes. As if in punishment, everything fell on Yegor. You could see the wide cheekbones on his unshaven, tanned face. The sun also burned his young vineyard mercilessly. He remembered, frowning, how he had dug deep holes, how he had filled them with humus and rubble, how he had cut down pillars of prickly acacia, tearing his hands to blood. Yes, and the seedlings themselves cost him dearly, what was the cost of their delivery here from the sea, from the nursery, well, what is there to count! The most annoying thing was how much effort he put in, how much time he spent to have a garden here. And it all went down the drain. The drought was choking a bush every day, and there was nothing he could do about it. In June, the roots still held, and it was water in the tap, and he watered the grapes from a bucket, wandering up and down the long rows several times a day. Then the water pressure began to weaken, and it was necessary to water the weakest and most in need of watering plants. But then the water completely dried up in the tap, it went only at night in a thin trickle, and it was barely enough to support the life of the people themselves, watering was banned. Everyone was hoping for a big rainstorm, it was almost expected, but it did not come, and every evening, looking carefully at the cloudless sky, Yegor wondered in vain «it will go – it will not go.»
Yegor even dreamed of rain. In his dream, he could hear the wind swaying the branches of the trees, the long-drawn thunder rumbling somewhere in the distance, and the first drops hitting the leaves… And Yegor was sure in the morning that it was still raining, that even when he looked out the window and saw the usual picture of drought, he still had a faint hope for the future. that the sun just dried up the rain tracks. And he was very sorry that he had not been able to get out of bed that night, that his strength had failed him, and that he was lying on his stomach, his face buried in the pillow, in a desolate and hopeless position, like a shipwrecked sailor who has miraculously escaped in a storm and is washed up on the shore, unable to lift his head don’t move your limbs. So he lay there, listening to the seeming sound of rain, and smiled naively, thanking God for mercy to him and all living things.
Then, when he was already out in the yard, he realized with great disappointment that he had imagined all this, that there had been no rain, and the sun continued to burn the earth, and the grapes were dying, dropping their leaves and withering at the root. For a long time he walked mournfully along its lifeless rows, unable to help the roots, and he wanted to cry. Sunflower and corn grew in a nearby field, but these plants did not suffer much from the drought, and for the first time Yegor envied their tenacity and resilience.
«Why are they drawn to the sun, and my grapes are dying? he thought in annoyance. «What did I do wrong?»
And at that moment, the smell of burning was added to his suffering, and flakes of ash were already swirling in the sky, a fiery crackling was heard, and all this was coming very quickly from the forest, sneaking along the lowlands towards the reeds, bypassing the wheat crops just a few meters away. And then there would be such a blaze that even a tall walnut tree could be lost in the fiery glow. This nut grew on the slope of a hill, almost at its foot, next to a thicket of reeds. He was the first to meet the approaching deadly flames, already surrounded by smoke, and like a mad suicide, he stretched out his spreading branches, heavy with green fruit, and waited for the first pain. Yegor went down to intercept them and began to trample the dry grass into the ground, furiously beating the fire with a hoe, exposing the stones and clay. From such a frenzied work, aching calluses quickly formed on the palms, the unbearable heat burned, burned the beard, threw it back, but the man did not spare himself and believed that he would save such a beautiful tree from death. But the front of the fire was too wide, and the flames bypassed the obstacle and quickly crawled up into the vegetable gardens, devouring the dead wood in the plantings and un-mown areas before our eyes. Yegor saw through the enemy’s insidious plan and rushed quickly after, trying to cut off the flame attack from the vineyard on the move. But the forces were not equal, and the man suddenly realized that he would lose this battle alone, and the terrible bitterness of the impending defeat squeezed his soul, and everything was mixed up in a suffocating and already unenlightened smoke. Fortunately, a sharp gust of wind blew at my back, and somewhere with an echo of hope in my clouded consciousness, I heard voices, people were running to help.
FALSE HOPES
A swift southern night came, and all was dark. There was still the smell of smoke and the crackle of coals cooling somewhere, but the fires were local. The fire was stopped by joint efforts almost at the huts. Yegor was gloomy. It occurred to him that he was not living his own life, that the whole grape business, the monstrous effort to create his own little chateau here, had failed. Perhaps fate itself told him that he should return to the capital, that the land and the scorching sun were not for him, that the local peasants were not a gift here, and he was a complete stranger among them. Now he was ready to run, to run anywhere, just to get away from here. He still had savings and a passport with a Schengen visa.
«Why don’t we go to Nice for two weeks?» – What is it? «he asked his wife. – There is a good hotel, there is culture, fresh oysters.
«Good idea, honey. That’s what we’re missing right now, just a little quiet rest. I already dream of holding your hand, listening to the surf, and kissing you. I have a beautiful swimsuit. You’ve never even seen me in it.
He was finishing his wife’s hastily made nettle soup, and he was spooning out a boiled egg yolk at the bottom of his plate. He didn’t like the soup, and he didn’t want to eat it. The burn on my shoulder still hurt a lot, but it was just a small matter, two or three days and it would all heal. My wife smeared the wound with a special cream, carefully bandaged it with a bandage.
He didn’t thank her, but he didn’t need to, because they were often silent in the evenings and went about their own business. She either read Russian classics or sewed, and he usually just lay there, staring at the ceiling and dreaming about his own vineyard, how he would harvest crops and make wine. Every evening before that, new ideas came up, then he built a new wine cellar in his mind, then he came up with unusual trellises, not like everyone else…
My wife did not sew or read that evening. It took him a moment to notice the change in her, and even when he did, he assumed that she was just too worried about him stopping the fire. She had been unusually gentle with him that evening, and now she was snuggled up against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. But it beat uneasily, and his wife stroked his chest, kissed his neck, his chin, wrapped her legs around his legs, tried to arouse his desire. But he didn’t give in to her caresses, didn’t reciprocate, thinking only that it would rain. He believed that sooner or later it would rain, and he felt like a beaten warrior after a battle, with dignity and a sense of revenge.
Yegor looked at her calm, peaceful face. Her eyes were closed now, and the moonlight coming in through the window of the hut illuminated her faint smile. She loved him. For what, or why, he didn’t know, but he never doubted it. All her sacrifice, all her tenderness, was given to him without asking anything in return, and for the first time he felt guilty for this woman. He continued to kiss her, reluctantly, listening to her moan softly under his caresses, and this guilt before her suddenly began to build up in him like a snowball, choking him more than today’s smoke. Tears glistened in his eyes, and he quickly wiped them away so as not to show them.
Then he turned his back on her and pretended to fall asleep, and she sighed heavily and sat down at the table to read a book, and in the dim light he could hear only the occasional rustle of pages. That night Yegor realized that he did not know her at all, that all these two or three years of living together he had been busy with these seedlings, spending all his time in the young vineyard… He smiled ruefully at the memory of all those failed schemes, all to make this woman happy, to secure a future for her and himself, the financial independence that they had so badly lacked, and now, as he pretended to fall asleep, he admitted to himself that he had been wrong, that the situation had gone too far, and that I should have stopped long ago and done other, more profitable things in the city.
DINNER IN NICE
– You’re making fun of me!» Yegor said, sitting down in a pleasant and soft chair.
He knew that his companion didn’t have to believe him, and the story he was telling her was too fantastic. And at the same time, he hoped for some respect, but she laughed and laughed as if he were telling her jokes. All this talk made his mouth dry and thirsty, and he was still very hungry and missed real meat so much that he was ready to give a hundred or two hundred Euros for any meat dish.
Now they were in a seaside restaurant, sitting at the end table by a tub of palm trees, and the smell of fried shrimp and spices wafted through the air.
«No, I’m not laughing, kitty. You tell me some incredible things, «a pretty blonde with a short haircut told him.
She was very thin, and during the entire period of his acquaintance with her, Yegor only heard about a vegetarian diet and celery juice that cured all ailments. He himself also refused meat for the company, but not out of conviction, but for the purpose of more in-depth communication. He liked this blonde for her approachability and teasing swagger, and he wanted her. Today before leaving for But he decided it was time for action.
The blonde was sitting across from him, her slender but too-thin legs propped up on a nearby ottoman. It would seem, at first glance, harmless and habitual movement she made not for convenience, but to show the curious public the red sole of her expensive shoes. She also wore a light white calico evening dress with a plunging neckline by Christian Dior, highlighting the beauty of her swan neck. The dress fit too loosely, so that her small breasts, with their protruding and perpetually erect nipples, sometimes peeked out. Yegor looked at this woman with a kind of animal, doomed desire, and it was already difficult to hide this desire.
«You look at me like you’re ready to tear me apart,» the blonde remarked, and laughed, covering her pomaded scarlet mouth with a thin hand with a delicate gold bracelet.
– One more day without meat and I’d do it, «he admitted, looking into her gray eyes. «Thanks for getting me out here.
– I just thought it would cheer you up somehow.» The prawns here are wonderful, I would try it myself, but I’m still on a diet. And let’s definitely order some wine. You drink wine, don’t you? Well, don’t look at me with surprise, today you can. I allow it.
A young waiter, a dark-skinned Arab with slicked-back hair, approached their table. He smiled affably at the blonde, and it seemed to Yegor that he even nodded approvingly to her, that here, they say, is the right client. It was obvious that they had known each other for a long time, that the blonde was quite a frequent guest in this establishment. The waiter had a beautiful muscular body, and all his strength, all his youth, seemed to show through the crimson uniform of the establishment. He said something quickly in French, from which Yegor only realized that his name was Abdel, and he would be serving their table.
It was a quiet, relaxing evening. The sun was just beginning to set, and numerous lights were lit up in the port. From the embankment, you could hear the wave lapping on the shore, the cry of gulls and the guessed motifs of popular music. Numerous sailboats and yachts glittered white on the azure sea. Yegor arrived in the season of some kind of holiday, competition. His companion had said something about it, but he had somehow overlooked it. He was generally cold to these excursions, to these conversations. It was important for him to get out here, to think things over, to make the right decision. To some extent, he wanted to distract himself and maybe even have fun. It had been a year since he’d had a woman, almost a year, since that moonlit Kuban night that had changed his entire life. Now he and a boyish-haired female companion were sitting on the summer terrace of this small seaside restaurant. It was extremely sparsely populated, people preferred to walk along the embankment, but even here there was a French speech that filled the entire space with some exquisite foreign charm that he was still not used to.
– La carte des vins et le menu (Wine list and menu), – Abdel nodded respectfully and handed Yegor the menu.
They chose a large plate of prawns, an artfully designed vegetable salad, olives, and a bottle of red wine. Yegor pretended that he did not understand French wine and relied on the choice of the blonde.
«So you still don’t believe me,» he said sadly as they clinked glasses.
– A toi (To you)! his companion laughed more loudly than her glasses, shifting her feet on the ottoman.
She leaned back in her chair, and under the lush palm leaves that hung over her head, it was as if she were lying in a hammock on the beach. Yegor looked at this strange woman, carelessly spending her life in one of the best resorts in France, and estimated how old she was.
«Probably thirty, maybe twenty-eight,» he guessed.
He was already in his forties.
«A good option for sex, a young tigress bored in the jungle, even if only for one or two times. What else was she supposed to do? Husband in Russian Federation, senior manager in a well-known company. Money was a big deal, and there were probably plenty of mistresses, too, and here was a young, reckless wife who was always poking her powdered nose where she didn’t want to go. So I sent her to Nice to be the envy of her friends, so I rented a four-bedroom townhouse with a view of the Bay of Angels, opened a small business for her. Now she is not a housewife, but a businesswoman, maintains her own page, finds well-off tourists from Russia, shows attractions, takes photos… Well, I’m one of those people you can have a little fling with. Or maybe she’s mentally deranged?»
The blonde ate almost nothing, just sipped her glass and swallowed one olive, not taking her flirtatious gaze off Yegor. The salad on the table in front of her was untouched. She even ordered it, most likely for aesthetics.
Yegor devoured the shrimp greedily and, ignoring the rules of etiquette, began to slurp loudly with pleasure. The shrimp melted in my mouth. He was so hungry that he couldn’t taste them at all. The blonde was laughing at him, pulling a fan out of her purse and waving it in front of her face. Yegor quickly finished the dish and greedily grabbed the wine glass, leaving a trail of greasy fingers on it. He had been thirsty for a long time.
He drained the glass in one gulp and wiped the red, saturated spray from his lips with a napkin.
– What do you think, kitty?“ This is a very expensive wine, „the blonde asked. «Only you drink it like a cobbler.» I won’t remind you of the brand, you won’t appreciate it anyway.
She laughed again, that carefree, silly laugh that was beginning to annoy Yegor. And not just him. He noticed that the few customers in the restaurant were beginning to whisper disapprovingly. But the blonde wasn’t paying any attention to them. Right now, she was in such a mood as if all of Nice belonged to her.
– You’re mad at me.» In vain. How can you be mad at me? Look how beautiful I am. Well, how can I believe you, kitty? she smiled, setting down her half-finished glass. – You came here for a week, from Russia, to think that I didn’t believe the men there either, tomorrow you won’t be there, say what you want, put noodles on the ears of the local women, and you won’t get anything, but I don’t need it. I know all in advance what all this is leading to…
– To what end?“ – What is it? „he asked, pouring himself another glass.
His companion burst out laughing, waving her fan in front of her.
«There’s a bathroom here,» she said, sitting up. – You’re supposed to go to her door in five minutes and knock three times.
«And if I knock four times?» Will you open it for me anyway?»
She burst out laughing again and threw her fan at him playfully. Then she got up from her chair and waggled her narrow hips into the restaurant’s inner hall. Yegor watched her go and drank his wine. Her request to go to her bathroom didn’t surprise him. She had always been straightforward with him about what she wanted. But they didn’t believe him again, they didn’t trust him. It tore at his soul, poisoned his already bad mood. He remembered his wife. She was a different woman altogether: modest, easy-going and trusting. Why didn’t he appreciate it? Why all these three years of their life together had passed so quickly, leaving no trace, no photographs or casts. Who would ever believe that he had a wife? He sometimes doubted it himself. And the wedding ring on his third finger, which he still wore in memory of her, was no direct proof of her existence.
Yegor looked down at his right hand, at the gold ring on his finger.
Of course, he was mentally free right now. He no longer had any obligations to his wife. That last night they’d parted for good, or rather, she’d left, and he hadn’t been able to stop her, even though he’d wanted to. But the force majeure circumstances were stronger than his natural desire to keep her. It was all the fault of the rain, this damned downpour of sweat and blood.
He glanced once more in the direction of the striking blonde, and felt unsure and annoyed.
«Why did I tell her all this?» he thought sadly. «She still doesn’t believe me, thinks I’m talking her head off. She doesn’t need to talk, she doesn’t have any.»
Yegor made a gesture, and Abdel came up to him.
– Ça s’est bien passé, monsieur? (Did you like the dish?) The waiter asked, picking up the empty shrimp plate.
Yegor nodded reluctantly. This arrogant Arab, always with profit in mind and not even concealing his haughty superiority, became even more repulsive to him. And although he did not give an obvious reason, Yegor could not stand it and was rude.
– Garçon, l’addition (Boy, score)! he said through gritted teeth, putting a dismissive emphasis on the word"garcon.»
The waiter immediately understood his intention, but he didn’t show it and bowed respectfully. Yegor was even a little ashamed, he reproached himself for being rude, justified himself to himself that the reason for everything was elementary jealousy. At the same time, if he had been in Abdel’s shoes, he would not have been able to stand such insults and would have punched him in the face. Yes, yes, this would be his last night on the job.
He emptied the rest of the wine into his own glass and drank it down.
JE VEUX QUE TU ME FASSES JOUIR
After paying, the man decided to take a walk along the embankment, look at sailboats and yachts moored in the marina. The weather was lovely, and the slight intoxication only added to the sense of celebration. The sadness was slowly leaving him. He met smiling happy people, their mood involuntarily passed on to him. The sun was slowly sinking below the horizon. It was a very beautiful sunset. The crimson sun slowly spread and melted in the warm sea currents. He even admired this phenomenon, stood mesmerized and looked into the distance. He suddenly remembered that last night: his wife reading in the dim light, the old adobe hut. It was hard to believe that he was now in France, looking like a rich tourist and a successful businessman, strolling along the Promenade des Anglais, admiring this sunset. He also couldn’t believe that he had just been drinking a wonderful Chateau De cremat wine with a pretty young blonde girl, and she was ready to give herself to him in the dressing room of a cozy restaurant with a sea view, just because she liked him.
At this moment, when Yegor, involuntarily stopping, admired the sunset, someone came up behind him and covered his eyes with his hands. Cool female fingers were placed on his face, and a pleasant shiver went through his entire body from their light touch. He shuddered, took these hands in his own, and without turning around, began to kiss the tips of these fingers.
«Don’t be offended by me, kitty, I believe…» he heard a familiar voice say. – Just don’t get me wrong, there are so many crooks around. I’m tired of being alone, you know, among these crooks, and the biggest crook is my hubby. He’s already openly calling, and in the background naked women are walking around. Well, what should I do? I want love too… well, give me a quick hug, come on…
The blonde took his warm, obedient hand and placed it luxuriously on her chest. It was obvious that she had been running after him for a long time, and she still hadn’t caught her breath. Yegor felt the hardness of her swollen nipples and involuntarily hugged her. He suddenly felt sorry for this woman who was confused through no fault of his own, wanted to warm her up, kiss her. Their lips touched, and they kissed for a long time on the beach, until the sun finally sank into the sea, and its last glare disappeared from the water surface, like embers dying in the night.
– If you want, kitty, let’s go to your place, I don’t mind! the blonde whispered. – I’m so tired of being alone, of all the hungry stares, of the hypocrisy of being surrounded by people who don’t really care about me. Believe me, this is the first time I’ve met a normal man, not a hypocrite, not gay, well, no offense, right? You’ve given me hope that the world isn’t hopeless. Where did you come from, and why didn’t you come to me before? Oh, kitty?
He smiled at her, patted her affably on the cheek, and took the woman by the hand, silently leading her along the embankment towards the Negresco Hotel. She, obedient and happy, walked beside him, also afraid to utter a word, afraid to frighten her luck. She felt how fragile and vulnerable their relationship was still. Still, she couldn’t help but laugh. He looked at her in surprise and stopped.
«Well, it’s really funny… Honestly, honestly… I’m still trying to persuade you. Yes, ninety-nine percent of men stick their tongues out… You don’t think you’re a God, do you?» Oh, kitty? This is blasphemy, pride. Come on down, will you?» All right, all right… if you want to be a God, just be merciful and kind, okay? You’re not mad at me, are you?