waking up

The eccentric man lived for himself, knowing neither the sadness nor the joy that happens among ordinary people. Such concerns as family, living space, work, car or vacation in distant countries seemed to not exist for him. In the summer he wore shorts and rubber slippers, in the winter he wore an old tattered sweatshirt. He had a wide, good-natured face and gray childish eyes. Few people remembered how it happened that this man turned out like this, and those who thought for a second - pensioners and drunkards - could not remember anything. They only knew that this man had served in the army a long time ago, in those immemorial times when the country was different, but the people seemed to be the same. The man served as a tank driver, and when he returned home he started drinking, which, however, often happens in our area and surprises few people, except that it will cause criticism. The man drank for a long time and tirelessly. He drank himself into delirium tremens, imagined himself to be a spy and ended up in a specialized institution, where he was soon brought to his senses and explained who he really was. Once free, the eccentric walked the streets of the city for a long time, smiled strangely and was silent, and remained that way - smiling and mostly silent until now. He didn’t touch vodka anymore, he was already fine - go and see how people live and what they are concerned about. It is unknown what he ate; apparently, he chewed what he got into his mouth. No one knew where he spent the night either. Some said that he lived in attics and basements, others claimed that they saw him sleeping in a garbage dump - at the far end of the city, behind a shopping center.

His name was Budey, and why?... You never know why people call him! More than anything else, Buda liked to watch big expensive cars driving along the city roads, and how clean, sleek men and their women with different hairstyles sat in them. But he did not understand either the value of machines or the need for them. I looked at it like it was a miracle, and then lowered my gaze to the ground and must have thought, why do people need cars if they have legs? Or he remembered his service in the army, when he was a tank driver. After all, a tank is also a machine.

Budya didn’t know anyone, and no one was especially drawn to him. Why, you ask? Poor is still poor. Except that children will beat you with stones or sticks, and sometimes a drunk will come up and spit in your face. Budya didn’t hold a grudge against people - he didn’t know how. He knew that it was difficult to be like everyone else - human.

Only once did Budya find a comrade, and he soon disappeared without a trace. This man was once a successful businessman, he traded in real estate - that which people value; lived well and richly. He had a young wife, beautiful and stupid. But one day something happened to this man. In truth, it is unknown where the wind blows from and what changes it brings! A man was returning home from work when he suddenly realized that he did not remember where he lived. He wandered around the city for a long time, turned to the police - they showed him where he was registered. The misfortunes, however, did not end there. Once at home, the man saw a young beautiful woman - and did not recognize her as his wife. He thought carefully and could not remember either his name, or surname, or yesterday, or what happened a year ago. So he lost his memory, becoming pure, like a newborn child, and his memory did not even think of starting to accumulate again. The wife did not grieve for long, she quickly married the poor fellow’s friend, and that was it. A person without memory is nobody, he is of no use, and he does not recognize himself among the rest of the world. So this particular person sank very quickly. His apartment was seized from his fellow realtors, and he ended up on the street. He talked a lot, but since his speech was not tied to memories of home, or childhood, or anything else, it was impossible to understand anything from what he said. Then the man began to forget simple words and letters and continued to mumble senselessly. He did not live long with Budya. They often sat together on summer evenings in the trash heap, near the fire and looked at the majestic building of the shopping center, illuminated by hundreds of lamps and spotlights, towering nearby. People were visible in the huge windows of the building. They walked back and forth across all floors. There were a lot of people. Their streams did not dry out. They were brought to the beautiful building by buses so that people could get there faster and stroll around, enjoying what was there. Budya knew what gave people pleasure. One day he accidentally ended up in this building. He was blinded by myriads of lights reflected in the shiny floors and ceilings, and hundreds of smells and fragrances turned his head. Those same people were scurrying around, they strolled, smiling happily, along the rows of square rooms, behind the transparent windows of which stood mannequins dressed in all kinds of imaginable and inconceivable clothes. People were in a hurry to go inside and came out with huge packages. On another floor people were eating. Budya had never seen so many different types of food, neither in the army nor later on the street. The food was delicious, people enjoyed it, leaving behind a lot of food... Then Budya was grabbed by men in security uniforms and thrown out of the building, warning him not to appear here again.

The square where the shopping center was located usually smelled sweetly of baking and ammonia. At night, the wind rustled paper debris across the dirty asphalt. Dogs, strays and drunks crawled out of nowhere. One day on the square Budya met a former colleague. It turned out that Semyon was passing through the city; he himself lived far away. Semyon was drunk and cheerful. Seeing Budya, at first he did not believe his eyes, then, making sure that his vision was not deceiving him, he joyfully hugged his old friend. They were good comrades in the army. Semyon immediately pulled out a bottle of vodka from a huge bag.

- Eh, brother, what happened to you! - Semyon said sadly after drinking vodka. - How did this happen to you!... Uh-uh... Our life is not easy... And how long have you been like this?... Nothing, brother, nothing... Come with me to the village. I have a house there, some kind of farm, there is a woman... You will live with us, there is no need for you to hang around here! If you help with the housework, you'll get back on your feet!

Waking up listened in silence, enjoying the speech of his former colleague. A lot of interesting and unfamiliar things were revealed in Semyon’s stories - simple village life with its eternal hardships and worries. From morning until evening, Semyon was engaged in extensive farming. He had everything: goats, sheep, chickens and even rabbits. In winter, when life became boring and the TV no longer helped, Semyon worked as a watchman on a farm not far from the village. Moldovans and, judging by Semyon’s stories, Chebureks worked on the farm. Who these chebureks were, Budya had no idea, but was embarrassed to find out. Words came to him with great difficulty - many years of silence took their toll. And he didn’t see the point in talking; it was much more interesting to listen to others.

When Semyon went to get a second bottle of vodka, and his speech became completely slurred, Budya thought that they needed to find Semyon somewhere to spend the night, but at that very moment a police car stopped next to them. Two patrolmen deftly jumped out of the car and leisurely approached their former colleagues - Buda and Semyon.

- Are we drinking? — One with a huge aquiline nose and black eyes on his face asked languidly.

- ABOUT! - Semyon greeted them. - And here are pasties! I’m telling you, pasties are everywhere!

The patrolmen really didn’t like what Semyon said, and they started beating him with batons. When I woke up, I jumped to the side, not knowing what to do. He just ran around and mooed helplessly, waving his arms. When Semyon stopped screaming from being hit with batons, the police calmed down. The one with the huge nose and black eyes said as sluggishly as before with an accent: “Get out of here, you fool!”

Budya didn’t know what else to do except listen to the police. And he ran away, not daring to look back. All night Budya sat in the trash heap, in his usual place, lighting a fire and looking at the fire. When it began to get light and the street lights went out, Semyon appeared. His face was mutilated by beatings, several teeth were missing. Limping, he walked up to Buda, sat down next to him and took out a fresh bottle of vodka from his dirt-stained bag.

“Bitches,” Semyon said after a short pause. “They didn’t even take the money.” They just fucked me off and that's all. What kind of people?

He opened the bottle, took several large sips, grunted and, exhaling heavily, added: “Nothing, brother, nothing. Everything will be fine with us. Do you remember how it was in the army?”

2016