Юлия Кацман

Отрывок из перевода “MIK”

Early morning of late autumn. He was walking down the highway, a little guy. Various sails, indifferently passed by the unwanted passenger.
Because of the next rise, a military bun with a booth appeared.
Without losing hope, the pedestrians, turning around, slowed down their pace. Made of stone on the outskirts of Mahin Square, made of Zein stone. The car roared past, but a moment later braked, rolled onto the side of the road and quietly froze. Over time, pedestrians approached the multi-ton mass. Suddenly, bound women’s legs and the hissing music of «romance» fell on him from the smoky house.
Salam. ..Sweat? He threw it through the open door.
What did you want?- Disconnect the driver.
— Dude, drop the ring.
— Not to take passengers is an order.
— Yes, at least in the cabin, and then the driver and the girl behaved strangely.
— Are you ready to freeze?-slid across the lips of the driver
— I’ll try.
— Well, let’s go, — the owner of the «fatal» Mayinai continued with the same smile. Approaching the booth, our friend stumbles upon a two-legged under a dark cloth.
— At the mouth of the steamer, will I ever have one? asks
the «incoming».
«It depends on what kind of person you are,» he heard the same caustic voice.
In the noise of the closed door, the guy wanted to say something, but darkness enveloped him, and he saw a small ray of light burst out of the upper corner of the terrible dungeon.
In a half-naked, cramped room, there was a man on the board with his head turned back. Heavily wrapped in a white cloth, he did not sleep, did not look at the ceiling through a narrow slit for his eyes. In fact, after falling asleep for a minute from work, he had a dream: a 6-7-year-old boy was leafing through some Kango. His mother was standing next to him and kneading dough.
All cities with a temperate climate lose their green attire in late autumn, and the combination of a natural frame with gray concrete buildings tells us about the approach of a cold winter. Then everyone starts thinking about fever. So, on Pravda Avenue there were two slightly strong, but «hot» drinks and indifferently watched the scene taking place at the intersection.
— Why the hell did you put your locomotive in the middle of the road?- shouting out of the car, shouted the owner of the car.
— Yes, wait, you — the arrow jammed — not that, not that, the driver of the tram standing on the tracks shouted cursing.
— You, okay, what are you staring at there, in kind, I want to eat — said one of the audience, who was twice as large as the addressee in breadth and had a flat head, as if it had been hit several times with a plane from all sides.
— Yes, don’t show off, what are you — the second one answered, on the contrary, twice as long and narrower and beyond his years, the gap-toothed, seeing a minibus suddenly appear, rushed to her:
— Are you going to Pravda street?- I turned my gaze to the driver, and almost knocked down the guy who was dropping off.
— We are standing on the «Truth»!— the driver screeched the gearbox, overflowing with different-grade buttocks sticking out of the window, drove off.
— We’ve been standing here for a long time — I watched her go.
— Mick!— I heard the guy who got out of the minibus, turned sharply at the shout. Among the squatting guys, he recognized his colleague from Afghanistan, in the company of his friends, who stood up at once to greet him. He came to his senses only in the arms of a friend.
— I didn’t think that you were living here, — the caller said in surprise.
— I was in the army while mine moved.
— And after what?- Victor relaxed his hands (that was the name of a colleague).
— yes. . . I did not visit the «owner» for long (a little). . . after all, the world is small — Mick sadly looked away.
— Don’t tell me — Victor poked his friend in the side in a friendly way. Noticing Mick’s distorted face, Victor let go:- Oh, brother, sorry, I forgot.
«Yeah, nothing,» Mick hastened to reassure him.
— What, naughty? — the soldier looked into his eyes.
— It happens — Mick smiled — and how are you here?
— Yes, I’m here to visit a family man — he pointed to a confused guy standing next to him. It was Mick’s childhood friend. The guys who were watching what was happening gradually squatted down, inviting them to the «circle».
All the guys present are friends of Mick. Since childhood, they grew up together: hooligans, started smoking, drinking, then over time «with age» appeared anasha (kind of dugs), pills, opium. But this «circle» consisted of good and kind guys, even though they were involved in drugs, and in general, this area was considered one of the elite in the city. Drugs and booze were not the goal in the life of almost every one of them, and so one of the «steps» in this life.
— Can you «sting»?- one of the people sitting confidentially suggested and took a morphine solution from an ampoule and immediately handed Mick a syringe with a trembling, inviting liquid.
— Yes, bro, I’m already out of it.
— Well, Mick, the bread that you and I shared near the tunnel on Salanga is more expensive than this «trouble», but we are always used to halving. I’m like now
I remember your words — that I’ve been used to sharing sandwiches since childhood —
Vitek became animated without insisting.

— Actually, you can remember — agreed Mick, touched, carefully took the syringe, and with a feeling of nostalgia for the irrevocable past, slowly plunged the sting of the syringe into his vein. Having chosen control, he jealously watched the mixing of blood and crystal liquid, observing in this struggle not how much evil fate, but how much the influx of life.
— Y-y, Brazil. ..- now I won’t give my nose any rest.
Everyone nodded their heads in the affirmative, and he went to the procedure. At this time, one of the sitting people shut up deeply several times and with an involuntary whistle handed the «joint» to Mick, and he resolutely refused:
— No, guys, I won’t do that. After all, this is the first course of «my universities» — practice, trips to agricultural work somewhere in the merry valley. And so bad, and also to smoke this stuff — squinting from the smoke, Mick described an arc
After spending some more time with friends, he got ready for work:
— Okay, I’m going to go to the second one today, and even usually on these things I’m drawn to the lyrics, I should look there too, . . . well, we won’t say goodbye. Throwing his backpack on his shoulder, Mick slowly moved away from the people sitting. As if measuring the distance, one of his friends called out to him again.

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