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"Two", "Deuce", "F" or Lovely women do not do abortions

13.03.2017 1389

"Two", "Deuce", "F" or Lovely women do not do abortions

- Lovely women do not do abortions. If you do not need children, give them to me, I will take care of them, - were saying Mother Teresa on TV. I first heard this emotional performance. On another channel there was a transfer about caring for the nurses. I turned off the TV and cried. At this time the phone rang.

-Hi Jan, did you decide? I talked to Tatyana Petrovna, she will receive you today. Come on, good luck! - it was my classmate at the Institute - Gulya.

All the women in the queue turned out to have big stomachs, and I felt like a withered shrub in the green forest.

-Well, I'll tell you my dear, six weeks, no more, if you want to abort the pregnancy without consequences, then you have to hurry,- said Tatyana Petrovna.

- I'll think, though, let's sign right away, and if I change my mind, I'll call in advance.

-Tomorrow I'm on duty at the twelfth hospital until seven in the evening, come up, if you decide." Or a week later you will come here.

I decided to go in a week. I never thought that I would be in such a situation. My fellow students began to make abortions from the second year; I was devoted to the history of many of them. One girl made an interruption when the fetus was already six months old. She told how she was given birth by killing a baby in the womb, but he was born alive and even screamed, having appeared in the world. Of course, I judged in my heart, although I did not give a look. And now she herself, at twenty-five years old, is not married, and is pregnant with no one from whom. From whom of the two. Tolik is a good guy, only I do not like him, but I'm fooling my head for some reason. And with Aydar in general, it happened, it's a shame to say, on a drunken affair.

In the evening I went to see Gulya. I had to talk to someone. She did not make an abortion a problem:

- Do not worry about this. It's scary for the first time, and then you'll get used to it. Look around, who at such a time gives birth? What will your parents say? What awaits this child? And do not be a fool, protect yourself. Yes, the peasants do not like it, but it's not our problem! - Gulya taught me. I decided to stay with her for the night and go straight to the hospital the next morning. But when I was alone with myself, the child's surprised, defenseless eyes looked at me.

***

A teacher of Russian language and literature Nonna Georgievna called me to the blackboard. I could not remember the poem, and when I remembered, I could not say a word.

- Two! And I'll do you an abortion, because I did not do my homework! Sit down in the gynecological chair! - She looked at me, sticking out her long tongue, and sparks flew from my eyes, burning my face. The class laughed at me. Nonna Georgievna put on her hands rubber gloves and deeply thrust her hand into my vagina.

I woke up with a wild pain in my stomach. There was a feeling that all the pelvic bones cracked and the entrails fell out. I barely got to the toilet. Frightened by my groans, Gulya knocked on the toilet door. Something hot poured from me and fell heavily into the toilet. They were black blood clots. Gulya explained that this was a miscarriage.

- Do not worry, in the morning you will go to Tatiana Petrovna to the hospital. Rejoice! Everything ended in small blood!

The next day, after dinner, I was sitting in the park near the hospital, Tatyana Petrovna insisted on a three-day hospital. The sun did not shine brightly in winter, and I wanted to warm myself under its warm rays. And calmly comprehend what happened before you surrender to the hospital's chlorine captivity. I remembered how my mother told me that she could not get pregnant after marriage, and she considered this a real curse. As she scrolled in her head her life and begged forgiveness for all the sins committed by her intentionally or accidentally. Mom's sins were counted as petty, almost childish pranks. She considered the most terrible sin to be Murzik's death, forgotten by her on a frosty night in the street. When she remembered the frozen carcass of Murzik, she sobbed loudly. A man sat beside me on the bench. I noticed from the corner of my eye that he was dressed like a bum, but there was not a characteristic smell. Ignoring him, I again plunged into my thoughts, avoiding the obsessive image of Nonna Georgievna from my dream.

"Jeanne, is that you?" The man suddenly asked.

I looked at him attentively, he vaguely reminded someone.

- I'm Vasya Kovkin. We studied with you in the same class, sat at one desk.

- Vas’ka, Kovkin! You know, I was just talking about Nonna Georgievna. Do you remember her?

***

- Put me diaries on the table, everyone gets two. -Nonna Georgievna was atrocities. Then a siren rang out, it was Selikova's voice:

-My parents will kill me; I've never received a deuce.

Abisheva sobbed after her:

- My dad is very strict. I did not know that I should learn this poem!

- No one knew! Vaska Kovkin was indignant.

Abisheva and Selikova did not put the deuce in a diary. It was unfair, but only non-citizen Kovkin was able to contradict Nonna Georgievna, he is indifferent to the appraisals, he is a repeater. He was put on the last desk, so as not to interfere with others. And me next to him because of the growth, I was above all my classmates.

That day, we fought with Vas’ka at the drawing class, as a result of which his white shirt and my white apron were densely stained with watercolor paint. I went to wash the stains under the tap, but made it worse. The spots were all over the apron. And this is before the solemn line in honor of the birthday of Lenin.

Our class teacher, Elena Dmitrievna, locked us with Vas’ka in the office, so that they would not disgrace their appearance, and led the class to the line.

- Vaska, do you think, is it fair that Abisheva and Selikova did not put the deuce in the diary?

  • Of course not! Tails must be wound by this cramming!
  • And come on, we will restore justice - I suggested.
  • Catch and beat?

- No, it's much easier. We'll get their diaries from the portfolios and we'll put those two ourselves. I have a handle with a red paste. You will put two and I will sign for Nonna Georgievna. Her signature is simple, you need to practice. Vas’ka liked the idea.

I first practiced on the board, then on a piece of paper, until the quality satisfied us both. We got diaries from their portfolios and Vas’ka with unconcealed enjoyment brought out big figure-twos, and I neatly signed for Nonna Georgievna. When the guys returned from the line, Vas’ka and I ran home first. We vowed never to confess, even if the parents were summoned.

On Monday, I was summoned to the director from the first lesson. In the office of the director sat my classmate Zhazira Abisheva with her dad. He seems to have been a big bump in the executive committee. Valentina Fedorovna, the school's director, asked me to sit down and talk about a lesson in literature on Saturday.

-We did not learn the poem, and Nonna Georgievna set the deuce on everyone.

-She asked you this poem? - Asked Valentina Fyodorovna.

-No!- Srreamed Jazira.

"I do not remember," I said. I really did not remember. Sometimes I forgot or lazy to write my homework in my diary. But it did not bother me, I was afraid of our and Vas’ka's exposure.

Nonna Georgievna has changed, she no longer scolded us, and some unknown people came to the lessons all the time, we were told that this was a commission. There was a long-awaited vacation and Vas’ka and I forgot about that case. He was transferred to the fifth grade with us.

On September 1, we were introduced to a new teacher of Russian language and literature, she was Abisheva's mother Zhazira, and Nonna Georgievna, according to rumors, was fired for something.

***

- Of course I remember! Sinister still that! The fascist is poisonous!

-And it does not seem to you that she was fired because of us. - I'm somehow ashamed of her.

- And I'm not ashamed. But if she was fired because of ours with you, then this is the best thing I did in my filthy life. You know, I respected you then.

Indeed, after that incident Vas’ka never offended me, and even defended, although I did not need it. He studied with us until the seventh grade. And then he was imprisoned and told that after that he did not get out of prisons.

- How are you, Vasya, yourself? - As delicately as possible I asked.

- Come on, you see, I'm a bum. My mother died, while I was on the zone, and neighbors, bitches, our apartment, like my mother wrote to them. I arrive two weeks ago, and they have already changed the door, they do not let me in, they shake the papers in front of my nose. Jackals are smelly! I do not believe that the mother left them an apartment - he spit it off happily.

- And you go to Vit’ka Thomas, remember him? You were friends with him at school. He is now a businessman, he has discovered a lump, he sells vodka, cigarettes and all kinds of small things. A recent loan in the bank took, and the hostel bought out, near our school. The other day, he met him at the bazaar, boasted that he wanted to open a casino with a restaurant there. Maybe he'll take you to work, and maybe with housing will help, he's like a normal guy.

- You think?

-I think it's worth a try.-

"Well, it's possible," agreed Vas’ka.

-Listen, is it true that Selikova became a prostitute? - - he asked.

- True, she works in the Emirates.

-Is this a tavern?-

- Well no. It's a country like this - the United Arab Emirates. They love beautiful girls there and pay well; she lives there, earns, and helps parents. When the Arabs have a fast, she has a vacation. Recently I came; I bought an apartment for myself in a golden square.

-Here's the hooker! - Vas’ka smiled maliciously.

- Come on, hammer! Now every second is a prostitute. Walk around the hotel, you'll see.

- Yes, I already saw. And you what do you do?

- I work as an interpreter in a foreign company. Previously, our school worked, but the salary there is scanty.

-What are you doing here?-

- Yes, in the hospital you have to lie down for a couple of days.

- Whether for abortion or what?

-You all know Vas’ka! - I was offended and burst into tears. And I could not calm down at all. I remembered how I mocked myself for those deuces, how I was going to an abortion and sobbing without ceasing. Vas’ka did not know how to behave. He then got up, then sat down again, but did not leave. Then he sat down beside me, turned away from me and, too, began to cry silently. I understood it from his flailing shoulders. So we sat with him for a while.

-Will you smoke? - He handed me an open pack of Astra. I took out a cigarette and brought it to my mouth. He lit a match, gave me a light and then lit it myself. Pulling myself once, I coughed and threw away the cigarette, disgusting spitting out the bitter crumbs of tobacco.

-Why do not you smoke? - Vas’ka laughed.

I shook my head.

-Why did you take the cigarette?-

- I do not know! - And we burst out laughing. And from the window of the children's department, two faces looked at us in surprise, all in specks of green. I waved to them, and Vaska made a funny face and the children laughed.

That night, for the first time in a long time, I quickly fell asleep. I dreamed about my mother. She was holding a white fluffy dog.

--This is my Murzik, I saved him by a miracle,- she cried.

-Why are you crying? - I asked.

- For joy, dear, for joy!

How strange, but I always imagined Murzik as a red cat.

Oral Arukenova

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