Chapter 2. 3. Comfort

  The Client's villa, one of the richest in our city, is surrounded, like many other villas, by a high, thick stone wall.

  The garden, lush and overgrown, seems to be pulled in by this wall like a belt and hangs over it.

  I climbed it, pushed aside the branches and began to peer into the garden.

  It felt cool and nice there, in the thick shade.

  I knew this garden quite well, with its wonderful flower beds and fountain in the center, but now I could not figure out where to jump.

  The ground was not visible. It was hidden by foliage.

  I grabbed hold of a thick tree branch.

  Here, hidden on all sides by thick foliage, I began to think.

  If I continue moving further through the trees, I can easily get lost in the solid pile of greenery and jump off near the terrace, where the entire respectable family is currently resting, whom I had no desire to meet.

  And Client should be at home.

  I wonder what happened to him.

  I walked through the garden, passed an empty hammock hanging above the ground, touched it and moved on.

  I heard the muffled roar of a tiger. The roar was thick and menacing.

  I turned around, but saw nothing but bushes and a swinging hammock above a trampled oval of earth.

  In the jungle, of course, it is more beautiful.

  There, colorful birds move rapidly, fast as rays, and curious, agile and cautious monkeys swing on the vines, small, brown and bow-legged.

  They always look attentively with deep-set eyes, and suddenly and amusingly take off, squealing wildly and nimbly jumping from vine to vine. After the rain, everything in the jungle shines like varnish, and large diamond drops of water freeze on the wide fleshy leaves, tremble, and cannot roll off.

  Right after the rain everything comes to life, in an instant, as if a huge sound bud is blooming, and everyone's head is spinning from the trills, hooting, gurgling, crackling on all tiers...

  The garden is not necessarily well-kept or strict.

  Somehow lived-in, as if shabby.

  Orchids, unexpected colors, similar to dancers, as if complaining.

  I reached the house.

  The windows were high from the ground. An apple core flew out of one window.

  Several bright birds immediately took off from the tree and pounced on it.

  I looked around, made sure that there was no one around, and climbed along the completely smooth tree trunk next to the wall.

  It's a pity that the window is so high.

  I turned my head in the foliage.

  I barely held on to the thin branches, trying to get closer to the window.

  Now it was very close to me.

  A long, annoying leaf was getting in my eyes, and I took my hand off the branch for a moment and brushed it away.

  The branches immediately moved menacingly up and down.

  I froze, held my breath, feeling like I was going to break, and began to peer into the cool semi-darkness of the room.

  At first I didn’t notice anything, then my eyes got used to it, and I suddenly froze.

  There was a girl lying on the sofa.

  She was lying on her stomach with her head towards the window, gnawing on an apple and leafing through a magazine.

  In the midday silence you could hear the apple, hard and juicy, crackling under strong white teeth.

  I watched, enchanted, as the girl lazily moved her leg, bent at the knee.

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  Light, in gentle curls, hair fell over her shoulders.

  I looked at the long, slender legs, slightly spread out in different directions on the velvet sofa, at the flexible back with a thin waist, at the thin white arms, at the carefree, fresh face with eyes in the shadow, and I felt that my breath was being taken away, like a piston.

  The girl turned the page, running her gaze over the illustrations, then reached for a new apple in the vase.

  My gaze was riveted to this sight, my heart was beating hard, pounding desperately, it seemed that the tree was shaking from these sharp, quick jolts.

  I was suddenly afraid that the girl might get up, and my mouth went dry, although I tolerate the heat quite well.

  “Who is this?” a thought flashed through my head.

  The girl raised her head, tearing her gaze away from the illustrations - it was a simple, meaningless movement - and saw me.

  Our eyes met. The moment stretched on forever.

  The girl forgot to chew, her face slowly stretched out, her eyes widened.

  Stunned, she looked straight into my eyes, and I, without taking my eyes off her, crawled back along the branches.

  I came to my senses already on the wall.

  Before my eyes there was an inviting picture...

  And then there was this stupefying heat.

  I jumped into the dust from the wall, touched the road with my hands, shook my palms and went home, trying not to pay attention to the heat, which, by the way, I tolerate well.

  Hiding between the stones in the wall, the red lizard followed me with a sleepy, dull look.

  The white sun froze in the white sky.

  The house was quiet.

  I walked through the empty rooms.

  I found new magazines in the chair and, leafing through them, went to the kitchen.

  Mom came.

  At first I didn't hear her quick steps, but then she looked into the kitchen.

  “Hello!” she said, smiling.

  “Hello,” I said, chewing.

  “Have you been here long?” she asked, carefully touching her hair.

  A worried expression appeared on her face, fresh, still very beautiful.

  “Recently.”

  “What are you eating?”

  “I have already eaten,” I said. “You are very beautiful today!”

  “Really?” A shining smile appeared on her face. “How are you doing at school?”

  “Wonderful,” I said.

  “How long have you been there?” Mom's gaze became very attentive. Penetrating.

  “Just recently,” I said. “As always. You know. You know everything about me.”

  She suddenly became sad at these words.

  “I need to talk to you, my boy,” she said. “Let's go.”

  I sighed and looked at her reproachfully.

  “Why is this necessary?” I said softly. “This is not necessary at all.”

  “No, it is necessary,” she said, pushing me in the back.

  We went into the living room, and Mom, having seated me on the sofa, sat down next to me and wrinkled her forehead.

  “You are sometimes close to circumstances. They worry me. They are suspected of many things.”

  “You worry in vain,” I said soothingly, but Mom continued: “Now they have turned their attention to Client, and his parents are very worried. I talked to them, and believe me, you yourself cannot imagine how dangerous and insidious these circumstances are. I do not want nothing to happen to you.”

  “I repeat,” I said patiently. “I don't see anything terrible. You better tell me, did Lagoon come?”

  “No, I don't think so. You ask Exotic.”

  She was silent for a moment, and then asked:

  “Did you like the magazines?”

  “You liked them,” I said angrily. I felt that someone didn't believe me. “Tell me, what should I dissuade you from? You tell me.”

  “Okay,” said Mom. “That's enough about that, I know you're a smart boy. “She kissed me on the forehead obediently. “These Clients just got me worked up with their chatter.”

  “True,” I said. “But you raised your ears. You're ready to listen to everyone.”

  “The phenomenon exists. Office is holding on tight to the method! He has bitten into it with his teeth. You can't tear him away from school. Office is without a clan, without a tribe, without our old-timers' connections,” mother sad contemptuously. “Compared to us, he is nobody, but he will achieve his goal.

  Office walked along the square in front of the public with the girl Career. She is terrible, there are no words to describe her ugliness, but what an effect! Office will show himself in the most favorable light, a scoundrel, despite all the circumstances. He has zero abilities, he cannot read, but what powerful intuition and hard work he has! In this substandard life, one phenomenon exists at the expense of another phenomenon. Office will end up in the capital, damn it. Everyone here knows his seamy side. In a big city, any client with his rottenness can immediately become a real person. Without effort. This is what the rattle Absurd instills in me. It has been buzzing my ears.” Mother preferred only those who agreed with her in everything ethically. “You are an idealist. Come down to earth. You can't just live like that. On your own. Without a goal. Like before.”

  Like before...

  When I recalled the old days, a warm feeling, a unique atmosphere, arose in my soul, unconsciously, as if a button had been pressed, it was unlike anything else, as if an unknown pattern was being woven.

  Once, like a mirage, a strange guess flashed through my mind that perhaps this amorphous state of poor man's spiritual festive warmth was the main thing, and the goal, but I immediately drove it away in horror.

  The goal, as a concept, seemed to me something grandiose, for which it was necessary to crush, break, crush, step over everyone, go straight ahead, think incredibly actively and on a large scale, act flawlessly, precisely.

  Purposefully.

  I respected purposeful people.

  And envied them, because I could not be like them. Confident.

  A holiday is what it seems. Something shaky, unreliable, elusive. Superfluous. Incomplete.

  It would be better for everyone to do without it.

  But I really wanted everything to be as before, I saw how everything was changing, and I didn’t know what to do.

  Mom’s gloom dissipated, and a smile played on her well-groomed face again.

  “We're having a dinner party tonight!” she said excitedly.