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Дикарь - Алексей Жак
- Дата:21.07.2024
- Категория: Проза / Русская современная проза
- Название: Дикарь
- Автор: Алексей Жак
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Описание онлайн-книги Дикарь - Алексей Жак:
Несостоявшийся писатель-неудачник Сергей Дикарев, пьяница и балагур, распыливший года по пустякам, разбивший жизнь на эпизодические осколки, взамен записывает фантазии собственного сочинения. Встреченные на пути женщины, любовь, чувства преданности, нежности, созданные путаным воображением образы, – все перемешивается в сознании человека, отстраненно смотрящего на реальную жизнь остальных людей как на выдуманные истории.
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Дикарь
Алексей Жак
© Алексей Жак, 2016
ISBN 978-5-4483-3614-0
Создано в интеллектуальной издательской системе Ridero
ЧАСТЬ 1. Проба пера. Зоя
…The writer does not read publicly an unfinished draught copy; the savage does not say the words designating things mysterious, it is doubtful to it adjusted…
Nabokov «Despair»«…писатель не читает во всеуслышание неоконченного черновика, дикарь не произносит слов, обозначающих вещи таинственные, сомнительно к нему настроенные…»
В. Набоков «Отчаяние»1. Roses with thorns. Розы с шипами.
They have got acquainted casually, but this meeting was not such accident. They searched everyone. Perhaps, there will be no it, she would find another and on the contrary he would meet another, there will be no it. Very much can be. But the case has reduced them. And further everyone has made from its part everything that acquaintance has outgrown in attachment. They did not speak about feeling. It was their silent mutual agreement.
In a city where she lived, in a resort corner of the earth as in any resort at the height of summer the carnival – a carnival of colors reigned, natural paints, light, elegant people, nothing anxious and taking life easily. Dresses of all colors and shades as it is necessary on a carnival, dazzled on beaches which were stretched by an infinite strip of whitish sand along the rolling rustling hills hissing on hot stones, and also on approaches to beaches – in the hilly sandy folds covered with fur-tree needles, in prickly thickets of bushes, in very tall pine wood.
Red, green, violet, yellow, snow-white fabrics, dark blue, crimson, lilac, gold, a combination of colors; slippers, bedroom-slippers, hats, caps with a peak; straw features, bikini, terry towels, beach handbags – ripples in eyes.
Man dug in hot sand, over hot and jumps and sand fall from him like a water stream. He runs and with running start flops in water, lifting a cloud of splashes. And the naked girl with the rubber goose, irrigated from head to foot its fountain, all in drops, turns away, without falling nearly, and is blocked by a hand as though water is hot and can scald. And the dark blue seagull flies by in the distance, the sharp lowered wing dissecting air. Young men play volleyball a white ball, and a ball, falling in sand, is lost track. The girl carefully tries water, and its varnish the casting foot plunges into foam on an ankle and turns green.
Then the carnival by the evening passed in a city, and on streets procession at which did not exist neither heads, nor a tail, – it as circulation, became isolated in a ring rushed. Paints slightly turned pale, evening dresses prevailed: lilac, beige and olive, silvery. Purple of a decline have faded, and like a salute volley street illumination flashed.
People here shared to two signs: on the visitors having a rest, and on aboriginals where those who has arrived for a long time joined also, lived constantly and worked in a city, built your life more or less comfortable.
He was among visitors, only has arrived not to have a rest – in business trip. He lived in hotel but as any cheerful person was weighed upon the loneliness and did not love the hotel room, avoided to remain there in the evenings, left all the same where. Often dropped into restaurants he also looked after, as was able, for women.
It did not say about him «a beauty’, but all the same something was pleasant to women in him, of it was convinced time and again. Probably, it was congenital gentlemanliness – with the woman he was underlined polite, attentive. Because of natural shyness in a youth he shunned girls, was not able to pay compliments, look after, to conduct conversation tete-a-tete, and therefore has been compelled to write down in a writing-book variant of the acquaintances obtained from all possible sources. Diligently he wrote down them and learnt by heart.
She lived here for a long time, years ten, can more, has arrived from village, was learnt on the dressmaker and worked now in studio. For those years that she has spent here, she has learnt not to notice fun having a rest, has got gradually used to a rough carnival celebration which did not cease in a summer time minutes.
And at night when shouts of the walking about companies sounded, recorder music was necessary to sleep under a pillow.
She had a room in two-room apartment of the house rented by association of workers of a life under a hostel. After work she came here, every day did tidy up a room: wiped a dust, vacuumed an oriental carpet. She sat down in a deep armchair and sadly threw the possession, without knowing than to be engaged where to get to from melancholy rising by the evening.
Summer – that time which attracts changes, fireworks of feelings and new novels. Him occurrence in her life did not promise her anything in the future, absolutely anything. And, however, she has let him in it, also started up daily. He promised nothing, did not ask. She in the answer also demanded nothing. They had strange relations which, however, suited both.
The sun seldom looked in a window turned on the north. It filled in all streets with bright celebratory light, both a grass, and trees, and asphalt which burnt underfoot. She liked to look in an open window, sitting on a frame, while he lain on a bed. What about she thought? What wanted to see behind a window in this chaos and the turmoil, alien to it? He was on this party of the world.
And there, below, in the opened wide chasm which has absorbed the world of people, cars and buildings, between green squares of plantings something moved live, reminding swarm, ant turmoil. The city groaned, set fire August. Two squeaking ferries did not cope with transportations, became angry, let out soot, strewing heads of passengers ashes, as in revenge for the old age. And those which have sweated, tired of a crush, directed looks on a thin strip of violently overgrown plait, from the opposite which invisible party the desired beach was stretched.
Overcoming wide, but quiet now the channel, a counter populous stream, danger break to pieces about which is quite probable if not to adhere to right-hand movement, – a necessary condition of achievement of the general purpose. At last, walk on shady avenues of a pine forest, as an award for the torments, the inconvenient sandy hills full of sand of a slipper, and here it – the sea.
By the evening splashed in a muddy liquid of saltish smack, on shoal to which does not have the end, it is pleasant to appear under cool protection of squares, observing of sliding fragile boats with a tiny sail. The rope for management is in hands of the child, which dreaming to appear this minute not in the silent channel, and at Open Ocean.
It is possible to plunge into vortex of entertainments, as in a whirlpool, or at least slightly to wet a head and to come up. That is not simple. The temptation is great. The heated sun burns down a head. Around, where do not look, – a holiday, and any wild celebration. It reigns everywhere: at restaurants, beer, cafe, in streets, on the areas, at fountains, on benches along park sculpturing’s.
…Weak knock at a door. There is just from a rain he shy, wet, in the doorway. From his curtailed umbrella a thin stream in the beginning flows, then water drips. In tired, apparently, eyes – a mute question: it is possible, is not present?
– Pass.
Each time when he here so knocks on its door, she shudders, she lost, fusses, without knowing for what to seize first of all. He, when is opened a door, costs perplexed how the gatecrasher, always thus, wondering, will let in or not this time? Was afraid that is not present, but, it appeared, in vain. Therefore knock turned out weak, irresolute as knock, beforehand understanding that thereby will disturb rest of owners.
– Pass, – she in a red jacket, on a neck the black satiny scarf tied by a cowboy’s tie, as always she is outwardly quiet, but in eyes – a ray. To her very much there is this scarf which has added not home-style the bright dress.
He is going to say a compliment, but immediately stops short, after all this bright accessory – a death symbol, a mourning detail of clothes, instead of its ornament. Her much ill father had laid to the death in village hospital, which she visited occasionally during week-end. He with alarm has thought the death of the father somehow will affect their mutual relations?
– I already know, – he has told. – Came some times. The neighbor has told.
– To me have transferred. Pass. Undress.
She always told these «pass, undress», as something obligatory at an input. Perhaps these words replaced to it others: «I’m very glad to see you», «I so waited for you», «It is good that you have come».
He has hung up a wet jacket on the double hook nailed to the door panel. How many time he has made this ceremony meaning the beginning of their meeting! After that double click of the lock notified on disappearance of an external world and everything connected with this world – persuasive, annoying, and harmful and not having something in common with silence and rest here, inside. His doubts instantly dissipated. And she hardly, only he removed and cleaned the outer clothing, calmed down, and the confidence a warm, joyful wave overflowed her from consciousness that here he has come and, having undressed, now will not soon leave. Will be with her long-long, so much, how many to her will suffice to muffle that melancholy and to fill in the life emptiness with a part not imaginary happiness.
– Where to put an umbrella?
– Open, and here.
– From it flows.
– Anything, I will wipe.
They spoke, but as though did not notice each other – so, to someone to the stranger addressed (can be, to the intermediary?) And conversation from it turned out crumpled, squeezed of, inconsistent. He marked time, awkward – «a valenok’ (a shy boy), not the person – did not know where to stick opened and from that enormous, taking it is too much places, umbrella; where it is better to push the removed boots; where, after everything to pass and sit down. His coward was transferred to her, she fussy ran on a room, cleaning superfluous things: any rags, rags of a matter, a pattern; simultaneously included an electric teapot in the socket which was occupied already with a refrigerator plug and which should be taken out for a while. Ringed ware in a niche of the wall adapted under buffet, drawn by a playful fabric with white florets. Such occurred regularly. Simply repeated and repeated, and anything it was impossible to do with it. Both of them needed time to come to the senses, feel unchained, as in ordinary life.
It seemed to him that today she a bit unusual, not such, as always, vivacity, has blossomed even, whether became more beautiful that. However such thought was blasphemous, change in her all the same has occurred, and to the best. To her so there was this black atlas with peas against a scarlet woolen jacket. And this flush got, obviously, for a week of stay on rural air.
He admired it, sitting on a chair in the ordinary pose – in Turkish. He has noticed on her finger also a gold ringlet with a pattern of which was not earlier when she has sat down by a table and has extended hands, smoothing a cloth.
He sat, as the idol, and did not know, with what to begin. «What an awkward situation! I don’t know what about to speak?» He thought. He has inspected, probably, in thousand time a room: old wall-paper, a book shelf with moving glass, small wardrobe, an armchair and the TV, a bedside table, a shaky ottoman – her bed, their bed…
She patiently waited, something concealed in itself, and he could not guess in any way: what? At last, something close to true has dawned upon it: she waited, she is dressed up, and it is all – for him. «Look at me, what a beautiful I am! – As though she constrained shout inside. – Hands in gold. How do you like that! Am I attractive, despite mourning? Estimate, notice my diligence. I so waited for this meeting so dreamt of it and is glad that we again together. You look at me and if you will tell nothing, not terribly, I have enough that you nearby, with me».
He has foolishly kept silent, and anything, as if on purpose, has not told about her appearance, about her dress. He has considered that it will look artificial; he preferred naturalness in the relations, a natural course of events. Instead he has told about the flowers standing on a table in cheap, with carved drawing to a vase: «Flowers fade».
Natural flowers constantly stood at it. She loved fresh flowers, bought them, when the old plants withered. He has presented to her flowers only once are there were roses with the thorns any very long and sharp. Since then has passed a lot of time, the whole eternity.
– Yes, begin, – she has sadly told. She sat and looked opposite to herself in a wall at the Siskin’s reproduction representing light spring wood with the tumbled down trunk.
– You where look? – He has asked. He often reminded of hers sudden derivations, deduced the remarks from contemplate silence, from wanderings far from the validity.
She believed that he becomes angry because of hers strangeness, and always she hastened to calm:
– No, no. Anywhere, I do not look anywhere.
– I have noticed, again about something have reflected.
– I do not think, – she has inclined on one side a head – hers usual movement which he has acquired on all life, as something having great value. – We will drink tea?
She began to set the table, rattling saucers, cups, has put small baskets with a crimson syrup, cut chunks a piece of white house cottage cheese. The teapot has begun to boil: the lid jumped up, from a nose brought down a smoke.
– Cottage cheese! – He was delighted and has laughed.
– Eat, and that will be late, – she has told, smiling.
That them so has amused, they knew only one. It was on one tea party, for any holiday (what? – Nobody remembered). He has refused cottage cheese – was full. He has told that will try then, and for the morning when has asked, there was all is eaten. He has forgotten absolutely about this case, and she, it is necessary, remembered.
– How, it is tasty?
– O-very.
After tea she has cleaned ware, has wiped filtered of a porcelain teapot a puddle, has shaken from a cloth. He has changed on an ottoman, therefrom watched hers again slow, uncertain movements, has extended feet to the heated reflector warming a room, more truly, that corner at an ottoman where stood.
There was already late autumn, and carnival processions more disturbed than nobody at night. The beach has become empty for a long time, there was now cold, the penetrating wind walked on deserted sand, waves the enraged shaft attacked coast and beat, tormented him indifferent to revelry of elements, fallen asleep in the middle of peals of thunder.
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