Translated material
Another childhood
What is it like to understand that you are homosexual? The New Times publishes excerpts from the records of such a teenager*
| *From teenage diaries and children's memoirs, the novel “Another Childhood” was obtained, which included in the long list of the Russian Prize for 2010, but is still unpublished. “The topic is too dangerous,” publishes write. |
16 years. The military registration and enlistment office
- Well, you settled down. One on the entire bench. Let's move the ass.
Healthy as a wall, the guy plopped down nearby and spread his legs wide, so that his gray cowards are stretched. Probably from a neighboring school. Where do they only get such bugs from? That's who needs to be sent to the army ahead of schedule: all the same, no sense will come out. He probably still has not learned the theorem of Pythagoras what he should do in high school? Actually, it was my turn to the surgeon’s office, but I decided not to insist and let go ahead.
The military enlistment office was chilly and uncomfortable. A wooden bench did not warm even after I sat on it for several minutes. Around stood, sat, walked naked, in their underpants guys from different schools. Among them were my classmates, but they somehow got lost in a common crowd, so I felt lonely in an unfriendly and even threatening environment. I fought with the desire to raise my eyes and look, look at everything, because I had not seen such a cluster of naked bodies before. I saw on the beach, of course, but there they looked organically, so it was somehow uninteresting to watch them. And here, in the narrow dirty corridors of the military registration and enlistment office, doctors and nurses scurried about somewhere and some incredibly thick people in uniform and with red faces, stripped teenagers looked strange and out of place. This excited interest, but I was afraid that someone would notice him, so I looked at the floor. Sometimes it was possible to cast a glance furtively, as, for example, on the family underpants, but I tried to immediately divert him (...)
Bugay stood up and grunting, grunting, as if he had just left the bathhouse, entered the office. I sat closer to the door so as not to miss the line again. The bench was still warm, even warmer than where I was sitting before. He already heated her.
Interestingly, I alone are embarrassed or everyone else feels the same? It was probably BUGA. At least send him to Red Square in some underpants, he will also groan as if it was completely normal - to walk half a day in this form in front of strangers. And what are they doing there at the surgeon?
My turn came. In the office of five absolutely naked guys stood in a row in front of the table of a doctor who examined one of them. Only one studied at our school, I saw the rest for the first time. It took my spirit, it was so unexpected by the defile, but the nurse who was sitting next to the door quickly returned me to consciousness, uttering a mechanical voice: “School, class, surname”. I called myself, after which she said with the same creak of a rusty, but still working from the last forces of the robot: "We take off his panties, stand, wait."
The guys stood sideways to me, freely, as in line for potatoes. Bugay, so he generally laid his hands behind his back and leaned against the wall. Only a boy from our school, as subtile as I, stood, bashfully covering the loins with his hands. I tried to not look at anyone and at anyone, but still could not overcome myself and looked around Buggay from head to toe. Wow. You will not even see this in the museum. He grabbed my gaze, so I blushed to my ears. It was necessary to look somewhere, but wherever you look, you stumble upon a naked body. They would have given out some kind of bandages on the eyes, or something.
The most interesting, however, happened in front of the doctor’s table. A surgeon, a man of about forty with a Chekhov beard and rare blond hair in a white dressing gown and round glasses, which, with a great desire, could be given behind the pince -nez, twisted the next boy in front of him, asked him to spread his hands, examined the spine, and then suddenly began to touch him in the perineum. I had this already at school many years ago, and then all these actions seemed too intimate. The boy stood red as cancer, and everyone else in steadily watched him (although here I am not the only one so curious). “So, now the head was tanned,” the surgeon said in such a everyday tone, which was strange to hear in relation to this word. However, how could he say in a tone? Does the head require some special pet? The guy did what he was asked about, after which the surgeon unfolded him and asked him to bend. All this happened quickly enough, but this was enough for me to move something in me. I was scared that my excitement would be noticed, it would be a complete shame. Especially if you take into account this guy from our school. I stared at the floor again until the line reached Bugay.
He stood very close and fulfilled all the requests of the doctor with some absent and slightly bored look, who seemed to say: “Well, what else do you? Soil the head? Let's finish this Bodyuga quickly, otherwise I am to smoke a hunt. ” I could not force myself to turn away. He was beautiful. A wide hernesty face, which slightly spoiled the expression of bored stupidity; Developed breasts, large biceps, round white buttocks that stand out against the background of a tanned body. When he did all these manipulations with his big, who had taken shape, somewhat unexpectedly dark member, I suddenly lost control of myself and felt that my own began to swell dangerously. In order to somehow get distracted, I began to chatter the first poem that came across to myself: “I squeezed my hands under a dark veil, / Why I'm pale today” ... ”Then he turned, leaned over and pushed the buttocks. “Because I am with a tart sad/ drifted it was dedicated ...” Akhmatova did not help. The most unpleasant thing was that I was like between Scylla and Haribda: the boys who came behind me stood behind, and Bugay was in front of me. I decided that one bugi is better than four witnesses, and remained to face him. I don’t know if he noticed what, but, passing by, I measured me with such a full contempt, as if I was some kind of big unpleasant insect.
Then the real torture began. I was ashamed of the doctor, and then five more pairs of eyes looked at me, which were by no means as indifferent as a surgeon. I hoped that my excitement would subside, but it wasn’t there: despite all the efforts, but rather, even thanks to them, the treacherous organ did not become less. I didn’t look at anyone, so as not to be embarrassed even more, but I knew that they all saw and understood everything. Finally, the execution was finished, I quickly, but if possible, went to the door, put on cowards and left the office.
I don’t know if they specially waited for me on the street or my unhappy star pushed me with them. Bugay was surrounded by the five of the same large guys dressed in fashionable sports costumes Adidas: black plastic trousers on elastic bands, black or dark blue jackets, white T-shirts and the types of sneakers. “They are so dark, but no small,” I thought my mother’s tone. It was too late to retreat and nowhere, it was necessary to go through this system in order to get to the tram stop. Bugay began the first:
- And here he is, this Pedrila, who was staring at me. You, Pidor, have not received it for a long time?
- And he does not need P ***, and he is a fag!
And the whole company neighed over this exquisite pun.
-Come on here, man, tell us how you have, fagots, everything happens?
So far, I was walking with a stone face, as if their escapades were not at all about me. But for a long time this could not last - the path was too narrow. Finally, one of the tracksuits blocked my path and put his hand on his shoulder:
- And you, b ** d, do not say hello when they talk to you?
I jerked my shoulder to throw off his hand, but he hit me in the stomach so that I bent. Someone pushed me from behind, I fell to my knees, and they began to slightly, but significantly stuck my feet. Since I did not resist, and no one was going to beat me seriously, they were tired of this lesson soon, but it was not interesting to let me go too quickly. Bugay took me by the shoulders, raised me and turned to him:
“Hey, you, Pidor, do you want to suck me?”
While one of his friends held my shoulders, he unbuttoned his fly and pulled his thick black cock out of it. Of course, he had no erection, but he began to shake him in front of my face under the universal laughter, saying: “Well, come on, baby, you want it.”
“Okay, Nikitos, we went to x ** from here, otherwise some old women are already staring, right now the cops, B ** d,” said the one who held my shoulders, and then shouted to the side: “That you, B ** di, stare, go to x ** from here.”
Nikitos fastened his fly, dumped me in the end with his knee in the chest, and after that the whole company disappeared as fast as if I had dreamed of all this.
It was necessary to get up: passers -by began to look back at me. Where they used to be and where did they look, I wonder? I wanted to shout something evil addressed to them, as the tracksuit did, but I said nothing, shook off and trudged to the tram. Pidor. So I was not called even in elementary grades. And if they called it, then unconsciously, not fully understanding what this means. And only today is this definition from which I tried to run, got out into the light and looked openly at me. A new era began in my little life.
17 years. Mother
Once on the weekend, when I stood at the sink in the old fashioned way and cleaned potatoes, my mother suddenly asked me:
-Do you have a girlfriend?
- No.
- At your age, it's time to get it, no?
- Don't know.
“But tell me, Seryozha,” my mother came closer, I had to break away from the potatoes and look at her, “but when you look at the boys, you can’t imagine anything like that?”
Mom took me by surprise, so the knife almost fell out of her hands. A minute panic seized me, but then I returned, as it seemed to me, in my conspiracy mood and began to play misunderstanding.
- What is I can not imagine?
“Well, what are they touching you or are you doing something else there?”
“No,” I tried to answer as firmly as possible. - I can’t imagine anything like that.
- Hm. Well, okay, ”my mother answered, without believing me at all.
I returned to the potatoes. Where did she get it? How did you know? Maternal intuition? No, I did not believe in such nonsense. (...)
To avoid further questions, I went to my place as soon as the potato watch was completed.
She entered my room, as always, without knocking, in a apron, with a kitchen towel in her hands:
“Well then, tell me, Seryozha, who is Andrey?”
Everything inside me broke off. She knows. I looked at her with such a look as I looked in childhood, when she pressed me against the wall with the evidence of some terrible crime, and I understood: whatever you say and do now, punishment could not be avoided. It even seemed to me that she would swing now and hit me with a towel, so that I reflexively pulled my head into my shoulders and stuck a little.
- Well, why are you silent? - She began to raise her voice. “Why are you leading some kind of double life, but you are lying in my eyes and think that I am the last fool?” - And then she gave me the name of Andrei and his home phone as a keepsake.
“I probably spy in my notebook,” I thought. But everything else?
- Seryozha, tell me, why are you doing all this? Tell me, do my son grew up with a fagot?
“Stop swearing,” I could only pronounce, clinging to the last word.
- Stop cursing? What else should I do? - And then my mother began not only to scream, but also to cry. -What should I do with Pidora's son? Maybe you’ll go to the panel tomorrow to make money to earn money? Stop cursing? E* your mother, what else can I? And still hides everything! And still lies! Why do I need such a punishment? We never had this in our family. Where did you come up with this? What did you find in this? And he also paints everything, as in the novel!
- So you found a diary! - I almost choked with resentment.
-And how could I not find something if you left it in sight? - Mom suddenly began to make excuses, but then she came to her senses. - What are you telling me at all? What is the difference, how did I find out? What, do you think that sooner or later I would not know that my son is a Gomik?
She screamed, cried, rubbed tears and mascara with a wet kitchen towel. I have never seen her like that. Not to mention the fact that I have never heard her like that. Maybe my mother cursed obscenities in the circle of her friends, but she never allowed herself to express herself at home. The taboo was so strong that I never cursed even at school.
I stood softly, not knowing what to answer. Yes, I was guilty of all the articles, but was I guilty? In childhood, one could justify himself by the fact that I did not want the window to break, or swear that you would never again steal sweets from the sideboard. But what was to say now? Even if she had now kicked me out of the house, I would not stop seeing Andrei and could not even lie to her, promising this, because now it was impossible to hide these relations.
I wanted her to be silent and leave. I had nowhere to go, and it was impossible to move, because she stood at the door of my room. I blushed with anger and resentment. Even in the worst times, at school, I did not listen to so much trouble in such a short time, although all these words have already been uttered towards me before.
Why is she talking to me like that? Who gave her the right to insult me? Why can't I answer anything and just stand and listen to verbal diarrhea, which is pouring from her evil mouth? I wanted to rush at her with fists, beat her in the face, on the head, on these tearful eyes. I wanted to kill, crush, destroy it. I hated her with all my heart. I did not utter a word, because I knew that if I started talking, I would say everything. And to say everything would be too much. Therefore, I stood and looked at her, squeezing my fists.
She saw hatred in my eyes. No, her hatred clashed at some point with mine. She was exhausted, went out, slamming the door loudly, and locked herself in her room.
We did not talk the whole next week. The boycott was not officially announced, but every evening the mother closed at herself and did not go out until the morning. I also tried not to show her eyes.
I hid better the already written diaries and decided that I will continue to write them in English. Mom still will not understand a word, and it will be difficult to translate with the dictionary, because my handwriting was not the most understandable.
This week we met with Andrei only once. I returned home late, my mother had not slept yet, I was afraid that she would throw a tantrum, because now she knew very well the reason for my delay. But she didn’t even come out, as she did before, to look at me displeasedly.
But she did not cool down at all. Something was in full swing in her, seething behind the closed door of her room.
On Sunday, she came to me, the look of business and serious, saying: "Whatever I say, you must obey, because this is my final decision." I prepared in advance for the scandal, because this kind also signaled that my mother knew very well that I would not agree with this decision with this decision.
- Seryozha, I thought out and decided. If you really like to sleep with men, you need to do an operation to change the floor. Then we can move somewhere so that my neighbors do not have to look into my eyes. But this cannot continue further.
It was a completely unexpected decision. Mom stood and looked at me, waiting for my reaction. She looked like Kutuzov, who decided to hand over Moscow, but only then to beat the enemy later. I could not understand whether she said seriously or just tried to scare me. As in childhood: "If you do not stop driving along the highway, then we will probably have to throw your bike to a landfill." What would she do, do I agree to this monstrous proposal? Would you seriously prepare for surgery and move? Or would I just pull time, realizing that changing the floor is not as easy as to tear the tooth?
- I don’t have to change the floor. I don't want to be a woman. You don't understand. I like men, but I want to remain a man.
“But this is not normal,” mother answered calmly.
“Well, why is it abnormal.” There are many people like me, and ...
- And they used to be imprisoned or treated, and they did the right thing. Because it is necessary to limit them so that they do not spread this infection. So you got into the hands of this, and now what to do?
“So you think this is Andrey to blame?”
“Do not pronounce his name with me,” my mother screeched hysterically, and then continued quieter: “And who else?”
“You're not right.” No one is to blame, I am just the same as it is, and nothing can be done about it.
“And you, then, will persist in this muck?”
“I can't do otherwise, don't you understand?”
These were the last calmly spoken words, after which the attack began again.
“Seryozha, I don’t understand why you don’t want it differently.” This is disgusting to nature, what you are doing. This is disgusting and dirty, do you not see it? All week I thought about it and honestly tried to imagine myself in the same situation, with a woman. But every time I became disgusting when I imagined that female hands touched me. This is disgusting, - my mother began to cry and scream again. “Do you understand that I have a well -developed imagination?” What am I all the time to imagine how you are fucking in Z ***?!
- Mom, stop ...
- What do you stop? She cut me off again. - What do you stop? You don’t want to change anything, you got a great job, but what should I do, do you think? You will fuck with anyone, and look through my fingers? I don’t need homicings in the apartment, I understand? So decide for yourself - either you will be normal, like everyone else, or drove to your Andrei, Herey or to anyone else, I don’t care. I didn’t raise you for that, I fed all these years so that you become a fag! I denied everything in everything, I could not buy new boots that you were always full and dressed! And what do I get in return? Son of Pidoras?! No! It absolutely does not suit me, ”she shouted, and went out, again slapping the door loudly.
She is all, of course, not serious. She couldn't keep it all in mind ... or could she? That is, she put me before the choice - either leave Andrei, or leave the house? She had no idea that life together with Andrei was the limit of my dreams. But she did not know that this was impossible.
Photos: Photoxpress, Reuters