Love story

You know, I always seemed to be independent, in my eyes I could read a slight hue of arrogance and sadness, in actions I could see confidence and courage. It was as if I didn't need anyone. I had myself and together we did a great job. In my childhood I was a rather intelligent child and already then I knew what I wanted. Because pretty early decided on the profession and went to the goal according to a long-honed plan. It is not surprising that all mother's attempts to use her numerous connections and attach her beloved daughter to a cushy job were doomed to failure beforehand.

It was August. Unremarkable morning and mom with a new job offer. But this time I somehow agreed. Already upset, my mother, in anticipation of my next “no,” wanted to mutter something under her breath and leave, when she suddenly heard the long-awaited “I agree.” I did not have time to be surprised myself, as in the hands was the desired phone number. - "They are already waiting for you. Just one call," said my mother, magically hypnotizing me with her joyful eyes. "One call" - spun in my head. Usually I calmly ran my fingers over the telephone keypad, dialing the next number, but this time it was different: I collected my thoughts for a long time, adjusted myself for a long time to talk, and my poor head didn’t leave the thought: "Do you need it?". Locking all thoughts on the lock, condemning my intuition to silence, I dialed the number. - "Hello? - answered the male voice. - Oh, Olenka, hello, we are already waiting for you." A minute of silence dedicated to the flow of confused thoughts that still tried to overpower me. “When can I come?” She asked somehow hopelessly. “Today,” said the voice ...

After many years, I realized that the telephone number, only seven digits, changed my whole life: then I was waited for work, an alien city and ... it.

His name was Alexander. He was about 24 years old - the age when the guy is already ashamed to be unemployed, and the man is still too early to be married. Outwardly, he created a very controversial impression. The maturity and experience of a discerning man bordered on youthful maximalism and the utopian ideas of a naive child. Easy unshaven mixed with a shabby style "alternative" perfectly combined with his confident gait, which was to him "to the face." She was part of his image, very accurately conveyed his essence - original, impermanent. To me, he seemed urbanistic romantic — the tunnels in my ears, the pop desire to stuff a tattoo and yell a Cobain song to the guitar — all this informality attracted me. Friends asserted that Sasha and I simply could not meet. We were like two missing puzzles, which long ago it was time to unite in one picture. Frankly, we really looked very harmoniously with each other. There was something in Sasha that did not let me forget him all the time that we had not seen each other since our last meeting. In me, however, was what he wanted to see again.

We met at work. I am a new trainee. He is an experienced full-time employee. Day and night we talked about the injustice of the world and the grayness of the masses, drank wine on weekends in quiet courtyards, as careless teenagers enjoyed the night city, sitting on the grass and dreamed of going to St. Petersburg. We chatted about everything, each in its own way. Flogged some vulgar jokes diluted with irony, and caught themselves thinking that we liked each other. But neither I nor Sasha wanted to admit this, hiding their nascent feelings under the masks of mutual indifference and coldness. At least that was how it seemed to me then. Why did I hide my indifference to Sasha in the back box? - Probably because of the fear of spoiling communication with a couple of heart phrases. And he - because he was never sure of the reciprocity of his feelings towards me. So a few months have passed. My internship was coming to an end. But we continued to call up and make appointments in quiet cafes. But at some point Sasha simply disappeared, without explaining anything, leaving me alone with my thoughts and ... loneliness.

And time passed. I have already managed to get a certificate of maturity, enroll in one of the prestigious universities of the country and go to live in the capital. From time to time I got some crazy boys who told me about love, but for me it was all just a trifling matter. I still remembered him, leaving a vacant place in my heart ...

So two years have passed. Two years in complete obscurity and torture. In acquaintances, I was looking for comfort and support, but soon this ceased to bring me peace of mind. Of course, I understood that nothing had ever connected me with Sasha except banal communication, but I could not forget him! His image ate too deep into memory. I did not know where he was, how he was and how to find him. And once my torment ended. After two long years, he found me himself.

It was the day when I stopped thinking about him, when I vowed that I would never say his name again and remember the outline of his face. But when notes of a well-known voice began to be heard from the telephone apparatus, my reason changed me. So Sasha, a person I’ve been waiting for for two years, or maybe my whole life, reappeared in my life ... But even then I understood, once I’ll have to lose him again, or maybe let him go?

***

- “Yes, you are not friends, you love him, why don't you want to admit it?” - asserted everyone who knew the details of our relationship. Honestly admit, in my heart I understood that I needed only Sasha, that damn me to him, but I ignored all feelings, was afraid to admit to myself, and even more was afraid to confess to him. Suddenly he will disappear again! I waited too long for him to lose like this.

Six months later, everyday communication, meetings became less and less, Sasha disappeared more often. He was hurt by insanity, could be offended by some trifle and simply did not get in touch by the week. Sometimes I even had to call to find out if he was alright. When Sasha was not around, I was tormented by thoughts of how to get back in contact with Sasha, although I did not feel any guilt behind me. “But it’s better to be happy than proud,” I repeated every time I felt that I was losing my former independent I. In those moments when we were together, Sasha never cheated me with attention — courted, made compliments and unambiguous hints. . He gave me some hope, saying how I care about him and the road. I always inquired about my health, was interested in how I was doing and tried to be involved in solving my problems. But always coldly silent, while I grumbled to the whole world, telling what kind of tyrant my boss and some incompetent stepbrother, who a couple of years ago was addicted to alcohol and did not want to tie up with this, torturing his whole family with his drunken tricks. I cried, Sasha listened and always said the same thing: "Not Noah." These words were discouraging, they knocked the ground out from under their feet every time, but I understood that he did not have to heal my spiritual wounds, so I was grateful to him at least for the fact that he could just listen to me in silence. When it came to Sasha's problems, he demanded maximum attention and complicity in his “grief”. In these moments, Sasha, an adult and serious, seemed to me so helpless that I simply could not deprive him of my care and warmth. Then we found a quiet courtyard and "healed" the restless souls with each other with drops of good wine.

But ... after the next "not bad" I thought: "What connected me with Sasha all these years? We saw each other almost every day, spent countless time with each other, but during all this time I never felt like - really happy with Sasha. It seemed that I did not need him either as a person or as an interlocutor, or as a girl. After a hard day’s work, he offered to go for a walk along the streets of the night city.I waited for this proposal all day long, stupid schoolgirl in love! As a faithful wife, waited with I waited from work, waited to see him again, so independent, indifferent to the city bustle. He always came to meet me with such a relaxed, proud gait that everything seemed to disappear. He quickly suppressed them with his air, with his calmness. We quickly decided where go, choosing cafes, parks. He complained about the imperfections, injustices, and I tried to cheer him up, talking about the next ridiculous trick of his brother, wretched. And Sasha just walked and silently listened. Silence! This is unbearable silence, how she fed up on me! It seemed that he was absolutely indifferent with who he was, where he was, where the voice came from. At these moments nothing interested him. Under my stories, he seemed distracted from his own problems. He was forgotten. Only with me could he have forgotten. "

But then I was happy every time when his first smile slipped on his face, only now I came home every time exhausted, exhausted by some unbearable sadness. And the name of this sadness was Sasha. Again he could not understand me, could not feel. I wanted some kind of family warmth, closeness of souls, understanding from a person who was more precious than anything in the world. And who would not want this? I suffered because of a person who did not care what was happening in my soul. And then I began to realize that all this Sasha's interest in my problems was fake, contrived. Two people fought in me: one clearly understood that all this cheap interest was no more than using, playing in the hands of a skilled puppeteer, who every time pulled me by the strings, but he simply enjoyed my humility and dependence in it. The second "I" did not want to lose the one who was so sweet to the heart. And every time I hoped that one day Sasha will understand me. It sounds strange, but this is exactly what I wanted. Just sit, stand, walk (what's the difference) and just feel that I understood that he feels the same internal cold and such a strong need for someone's warmth and support, that he is just about to come to me in silence, will embrace him tightly firmly and say, "The sun, do not be sad, I'm with you, you know." One phrase and "whining" I would never want to ever. In a moment of wild despair, I would warm myself with this rare memory, for it was then that Sasha was able to understand my innermost desire. But Sasha did not need all this, his own problems interested him much more.

And at some point, everything collapsed. Something broke inside, cracked and smashed to pieces. Sasha has ceased to be the center of the universe for me. I'm just tired of waiting, when he sees in me a vulnerable person who also needs support and at least a piece of love, though unreal, but love! He became dangerous for me. That pain, the sadness that I felt every time after meeting him, there was no longer any place in my heart. Now I was occupied with thoughts of only one thing: "How to forget, cross it out of your life?" And once Sasha himself gave a reason to finish this story. One evening, which we agreed to spend together, Sasha suddenly spoke on a topic that was forbidden to us. He spoke about relationships, except that it was not me who was the object of his torment and dreams. - "You know, and I haven't been able to think about anyone for more than two years, except for her. She knows that I can't live without her, but she pushes me away forcibly. I love her, but she could never love me But I wanted to make her an offer ... "It was worse than" not bad. " All these long years, Sasha was in love with a girl I didn’t even guess about. Yes, and how could I know about it? Sasha rarely poured out his soul, and if this happened, it was never clear to the end exactly what worries him. He contrived to express the simple too difficult, but he preferred not to speak at all about the complex. All this second Sasha's life simply did not fit in my head. More precisely the first life of Sasha. The second, as it turned out, all this time was me. Yes, and it was not the main thing. More terrible was the fact that throughout the year of everyday communication Sasha hid everything that disturbed his heart and soul. But I shared with him the most intimate, revealing the imperfections of my family and considering Sasha to be someone very close.

Many years have passed ... And I still don’t find words to characterize our relationship at that time. We never promised each other anything. We were tied up by empty chatter and easy flirting, we just were at some moments close to each other geographically, but, as it turned out, not mentally. So what connected me with Sasha all these years? - It turns out, nothing ...

Now, when time has already set its priorities, I no longer rush to Sasha. It took me a year to let that sick love, not even love, but rather the acute need for a man, burn out, leaving behind the ashes of memories, experience and some kind of sad smile. Perhaps, in the life of everyone there is such a person, there is a big sick love, about which we want to scream and make verses. Which we remember when we are sad. We will always remember these people, in spite of everything and in spite of everything, and we will love them painfully for a long time. That evening I saw Sasha for the last time. I remember, I stood for a long time and silently examined the outlines of his face, how he wrinkles his nose, when he smiles, how ineptly and shyly he covers his teeth with a smile while silly, believing that something is wrong with them. I remembered it in order to leave and never return to that quiet courtyard, where we once drank our first bottle of wine. Frankly, I have never loved this cheap French drink, never waited on him for confessions and courtship. I always understood the impossibility of relations with him. I just wanted to be not "close", but next to Sasha. And even more he wanted him to understand me.

Especially for womeninahomeoffice.com- Maria Glazkova