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Daughter, you can handle it, don't upset your father. The story of one girl

The day gradually turned into evening. The hot sun, mercilessly scorching all day, finally gave way to the evening coolness. A light breeze caressed the face, neck, shoulders of every passer-by, fiddled with the hems of dresses, scarves, people's hair. The sunset was blazing over the railway station, reflected in all the colors of orange in the windows of houses, on metal roofs, on train windows. The setting sun, meeting with rays with obstacles in the form of high-rise buildings, shops, all kinds of stalls, trash cans, the station building, left long shadows of an incomprehensible shape on the ground. At the station, train drivers and officers patiently waited for their passengers - soldiers. Occasionally a loudspeaker announced the departure of a particular train, and old military music played. The mourners told their relatives how much they would be bored, waiting even when no one was waiting, hugging their soldiers, sometimes crying, cursing the war. The soldiers themselves, barely holding back tears, tried to console their loved ones, hugging them in return. A tall dark-haired man of about thirty-eight in military uniform, holding the strap of a backpack, stood at a distance from the crowd and waited for his only daughter, Margarita, who promised to see her father before leaving for the war zone. He looked around, occasionally squinting his gray-green eyes, in the light of the setting sun, seeming pale gray. A short girl of thirteen, dressed in a light, sleeveless blue dress with daisies, white patterned stockings, and neat black shoes with small heels, hurried towards the man. Her waist-length dark blond hair was gathered into one chic thick braid adorned with a white ribbon. The girl carefully covered her neat round face and eyes. The man approached her, and the father and daughter embraced each other. "I thought you'd either be late or forget, and you're right on time," my father said, a faint smile playing on his lips. Rita knew that smile by heart. He smiled so that his daughter at least somehow cheered up, and he always did this when the girl began to feel sad. And Rita was always smiling. But, alas, not this time. Margo knew where and what her father was going for. She knew he might never come back. “They kill in war,” Rita recalled a phrase from some book she read a year or two ago. Inside, everything was shattered to smithereens, and the pain intensified every time, with every look at the dearest person. And, despite the fact that everything hurt and wanted to burst into tears, Margarita tried to smile because she didn’t want to upset her father - she would worry. And in war, excitement is out of place. It is necessary to be silent about him ... So Rita was silent, looking at her father. He seemed to the girl a courageous and confident soldier, which is usually shown in films. It would seem that a brave father should be proud and shout to the whole yard: “My dad is going to war! But he is brave and will win anyone in battle! - but Rita didn't need it. She needed a dad. Dad, not the word and last name, first name, patronymic in the passport. It's dad. - Ritun, - he began, taking his daughter by the hands, - you yourself understand what is happening there, in Chechnya. The Motherland needs us, she called us for help. Rita silently nodded her head in agreement, and her eyes slowly filled with tears. - Therefore, be smart here, you are a big girl and you understand what's what. Promise, daughter? Rita rolled her eyes. "I promise, daddy," she said, her voice trembling slightly. The father smiled affectionately and stroked his daughter's hair. - Look, Margo, how you have grown! And I didn't even have time to blink my eyes. Then, I remember, a ma-a-scarlet envelope with a tiny screaming girl, but now who is standing in front of me? The young lady is an adult, a real pillar noblewoman! And again he tries to cheer her up, although he himself is also not in the mood to smile, because he knows what he is getting into. But not afraid. He's not used to it. He had already seen one war and was even able to survive. Will it survive the second one? He really hoped so. - Everyone leaves me ... First mom, then grandfather, then Dasha and now you ... Tears treacherously welled up in Rita's eyes, and the girl began to sob. The father expected such a reaction. He put his hands on his daughter's shoulders and smiled kindly. And this smile, like the sun at sunrise, illuminated his haggard face. Rita will miss that smile. She will not survive this, she will wither mentally while her father is at war. Will die ... Burning tears flowed down Rita's cheeks. The girl did not wipe them. She only clung to her father, buried her face in his strong shoulder, as she always did and, probably, will do until the end of her days. If my father comes back. But he will be back! Rita until the last believed that she would return. And then everything will be fine and, maybe, it will be as before. - I want with you. If it were possible, I would follow you, dad. Like Yesenin - at least in his own, even in other people's distances. But you can't, daughter. There are no children in the war, they do not belong there. You can be killed. - You, too. - I know, honey. - Why are you going? - Because the Motherland called. She can't cope without us, without male power. - I can't do it without you, dad. Suddenly, someone's low male voice was heard, clearly calling the soldiers to disperse to their cars. Many, finally hugging their relatives more tightly and kissing their wives and girls, each hurried to their car. Margarita's father tried to hide in the crowd. - You can do it, Rita, I believe in you! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go. - And, having said this, he finally hugged his daughter even tighter. - Try to go back, daddy ... - the girl said through tears. - There, on my shelf in the closet, there is a blue package. It's the dress I bought you. Put it on when you're fifteen. Goodbye, Rita. And the father hurriedly went to his train. Was it painful for him to say goodbye to his daughter? Was he tormented by the fear that he would never see his adult Margo and hear the gentle voice of his elderly mother? That is why he walked, trying not to turn around in the direction of his daughter. No, he was not annoyed by her tears, he did not just want to cause the girl new pain. And Rita was standing almost at the very edge of the platform, forlornly clinging to a thick, deadly cold lamppost. Tears flowed down her cheeks. - Dad! - the girl shouted with all her might when she saw him looking out of the window. - Come back soon! - Wait for me, princess! he shouted and waved to his daughter. Margarita wanted to say something else to dad, but, unfortunately, her voice simply broke. Not to wheezing and coughing, but completely gone. And at that moment the train started moving. Painfully, the native profile of my father disappeared from view, as soon as the carriage itself. The mourners gradually dispersed, and at the very edge of the platform, hugging the ice column with her arms, a girl stood and looked into that blue distance, where her closest person, after her grandmother, had gone. The old war song has been replaced by more modern music. The song of the Kar-men group was playing about how calm and wonderful everything is in the beautiful, lost among the deserts, the city of Baghdad. “Everything is calm in Baghdad, everything is calm in Baghdad!” - cheerfully chattered the singer. There, somewhere far from Russia, maybe it was calm, and people probably heard about the war only in books and morning news, but here and now, at the railway station in the city of Vyshny Volochek, it was stressful. Here the air was saturated with the burden of separation, regret and tears of relatives who, against their will, gave the most precious thing - their fiancés, husbands, brothers, sons - to protect the Motherland. You can list forever, but this does not change the main essence. Rita was not shy of emotions and, clinging to the pillar as if to a loved one, wept loudly and, like a child, wiped away her tears with slightly soiled fists. But why "how"? After all, she was a child, although she matured at the age of seven due to the prevailing life difficulties. Already in the late afternoon, when the first lanterns began to light up in the city, devastated and broken, Margarita trudged towards the house, where her sick grandmother was patiently waiting for her. Tomorrow will be as ordinary as the previous ones: the day will change into night, it will still be hot, the same trains at the station will come and go, bringing and taking people with them, the same sad see-offs and happy greeters, the same homeless cats at the stalls, the same beggars scurrying around at every turn, begging for alms, the same thin-legged fashionistas in bright clothes at the entrance, the same uncivilized inscription on the fence. Everything will be as before. And only Rita will have an emptiness inside and the realization that only the dearest person is missing for complete happiness.

Today they say “Goodbye!” To someone, tomorrow they will say “Goodbye forever!”. A heart wound heals...

More work by this author

Poems by Anna Ozerskaya 23

Fandom: Historical Events, Viktor Tsoi, Metro 2033 Universe, Endless Summer, Needle (crossover) Pairing and characters: Viktor Tsoi, World War II, Afghan War, Moro, Dina, Spartak, Russia in the 90s, Semyon, Slavyana, Olga Dmitrievna Rating: PG-13 are fanfictions that may contain kissing-level romance and/or may contain hints of violence and other difficult moments."> PG-13 Genres: Romance- a fic about tender and romantic relationships. Usually has a happy ending." > Romance , Angst- strong experiences, physical, but more often spiritual suffering of the character, depressive motives and some dramatic events are present in fan fiction. "> Angst, Everyday life- a description of ordinary everyday life or everyday situations. "> Everyday life, Hurt / comfort- one character suffers in one way or another, and another comes to his or her rescue."> Hurt/comfort , Songfic- fanfiction written under the influence of some song, the text of fanfiction often contains its words."> Songfic , ER (Established Relationship)- fanfic, at the beginning of which the characters are already in an established romantic relationship."> ER (Established Relationship) , Poetry- Poetry is a rhymed text or a text built according to a certain rhythmic pattern. "> Poems, Friendship- Description of close non-sexual, non-romantic relationships between characters." > Friendship, Non-standard poetry- Ver libre (free verse), white verse, imaginary prose, micropoetry (haiku, "> Non-standard poetry Warnings: Obscene language- the presence of obscene language (mat) in fanfiction. "> Obscene language, WMD- An original male character appearing in the canon world (most often as one of the main characters)."> WMD, OZHP- An original female character appearing in the canon world (most often as one of the main characters). Non-chronological narrative- The events of the work occur in non-chronological order."> Non-chronological narration, Death of a minor character- a fanfic in which one or more minor characters die."> Death of a minor character, geta elements- romantic and/or sexual relationship between a man and a woman."> Geta Elements Size: Midi- average fanfiction. Approximate size: 20 to 70 typewritten pages."> Midi, 71 pages, 65 parts Status: completed

In this work, I decided to combine all my poems of different genres.

Club of Anonymous Revolutionaries 12

Fandom: Historical figures, Historical events (crossover) Pairing and characters:

When Louis Didier was 34 years old, he was quite financially secure, so when he offered a poor miner, barely making ends meet, to take care of his blond youngest daughter to give her a better life, the father was only happy. Then Janine was only six years old - perhaps too late to somehow fundamentally affect her personality. Therefore, Louis decided that this blond beauty would become his wife and give birth to a daughter - with the same golden hair - who he could turn into a superhuman.

Janine gave birth to a girl when she was 22 years old. Louis then bought a house in the north of France away from people in order to devote himself entirely to his project - to raise a superman, a goddess, a girl who would be an order of magnitude better, fitter and more capable than everyone around.

Maud was born on November 23, 1957. And literally from birth, the child became the main goal of Louis' life. “My father didn't let me do anything. When I was very young, I was still sometimes allowed to play in the garden, but only after I finished my studies with my mother. Later, when I was five years old, I had no free time at all. “Focus on your responsibilities,” my father told me.”

Louis tried from infancy to reveal in his daughter all those traits and abilities that, in his opinion, other people ignored, thus depriving themselves of the opportunity to become gods. Maud grew up in constant fear that she could live up to her father's high standards and expectations. “I felt like I was too weak, too clumsy, too stupid. And I was so afraid of him. He was formidable and adamant, his steel eyes saw me from the inside, my legs gave way when I had to approach him,” Maud recalls.

Maud did not expect protection or help from her mother. Having grown up all her life with Louis, she called him only “Monsieur Didier.” Jeanine both adored and hated her husband, but she never argued with him or tried to resist.

Louis was sure that the human brain is capable of much, much more than people imagine. But in order to manifest these abilities, a person must completely abandon "this dirty world" that surrounds them. That is why Louis forbade Maud to leave the house, and even took an oath from her that she would not do this even after his death. And at the same time, he promised his daughter that with her abilities she could become anyone, if she wanted to, even the President of France. She can become great and change history forever.

During World War II, Louis helped dig tunnels to help Jews escape from France to Belgium. This left a special imprint on him. “You're almost seven years old now, so it's about time,” Louis once told his daughter. - When you arrive at the concentration camp, everything is taken away from you. Rich or poor, beautiful or ugly, they still put you in pajamas, shave your hair. So the only ones who could keep their minds under those conditions were the musicians. Therefore, you will learn all kinds of music. It is best to focus on waltzes and symphonic music. I don't know which instrument will be in vogue next, so you will study several at the same time. We will add music lessons to your schedule today, you will practice after class.”

Louis spoke little to his daughter, preferring to give orders or lecture. The girl was not allowed to speak without asking - "Speak only if you can say something smart!" he then shouted. The girl did not understand what “something smart” was, so she kept silent more and more. Mom didn't address Maud directly, always referring to Maud in the third person.

Soon the girl began to think that she understood the conversations of animals, and when she mastered the music on the piano, it began to seem to her that she understood the conversation between the parts of the game for the left and right hands. If no one spoke to her with words, then no one could forbid her to play music and listen to the chirping of birds.

When her father noticed that the girl was afraid of mice and rats, he deliberately locked her, barefoot, in only pajamas, in complete darkness in the basement, ordering her not to move or make a sound. “Meditate on death, open your mind,” he told her, although she did not understand the meaning of these words at all. Louis told little Maud that if she uttered even a sound, the mice would immediately crawl into her mouth and devour her from the inside. He assured her that he had seen with his own eyes how this happened to some people during the war.

The next morning, the girl was picked up from the basement by her mother and taken straight to class - no extra hours for sleep, “otherwise what kind of test would it be?” - the father was surprised. Louis continued to conduct his test over and over again for several months. “I began to pray that I would die quickly from such torture,” Maud recalls. “Then I thought, ‘meditate on death,’ apparently that’s what it means.”

Louis taught Maud to sleep as little as possible because “sleep takes valuable time.” He taught her to see food only as a necessity, so her food never tasted special: no fruit, yogurt, not to mention sweets or chocolate. She had never even tasted bread. Once every two weeks Maud's mother baked bread, but her portion was set aside for show on the edge of the table, so that the girl could see it, but never tasted it.

But her father taught Maud to drink alcohol from the age of seven, sincerely believing that the ability to drink would make the girl more adapted to the hardships of life. A hard bed, no room heating even in winter when the windows froze from the inside, no shoes or warm clothes, no warm water, no chairs with backs, so God forbid you could lean back and relax. But instead of all this - lessons in handling weapons in case of a duel.

Over time, the girl began to take small little liberties - but in such a way that her father would not know. She used two squares of toilet paper instead of the allowed one, ran out the bathroom window at night to walk in the garden. Each such small act gave Maud the feeling that life could be different. However, the real change happened when she was already 16 years old - then she got a new music teacher. He quickly figured out what was happening and found the right words to convince Louis to make music not at home, but in the studio of the teacher himself, and then even convinced him to let Maud work in a music store.

Maud met Richard there. Her father allowed her to marry him when she turned 18, but forced her to divorce her boyfriend in six months to look after her father. The mod has not returned. “It's been over 40 years since I left that house,” Maud says. - For a very long time I could not tell anyone about my childhood, even my husband or friends. Even therapists. I was so glad to escape from this horror that I didn’t even want to return there with my thoughts.”

Already out of the house, Maud had to literally re-learn how to talk to strangers, how to eat in a restaurant with friends, how to react, how to have a dialogue, how to choose clothes, how to navigate the city. Moreover, Maud turned out to have terrible health problems - her liver was badly damaged from excessive drinking, and her teeth literally crumbled - until the age of 18 she had never been to the dentist.

Louis Didier died at the age of 79, and until that moment, Maud never told anyone about what happened. And only after the funeral, she was finally able to speak out. Moreover, having gone through all the thorns of this therapy on her own, Maud decided to get an appropriate education, and now she works as a therapist herself, helping other people cope with childhood emotional trauma. Maud wrote a book based on her memoirs. She also sent one copy of this book with a note to her mother. “Mother didn’t tell me anything directly. But I heard that she was very scared that I published all this, and that she was upset when she found out that I misunderstood everything.”

Also, an experiment conducted by doctors in the United States on triplets separated in childhood became known recently. You can read more about this story in our article "."

Child's age: 3 years

Daughter does not accept her own father

Hello!

My daughter turned 3 a month ago. For the last 3 months she regularly (3 times a week from 9.30 to 4.00) goes to kindergarten. Prior to this, my daughter went to kindergarten since February, but not very regularly: either she was constantly sick, then we left, in general, we went for a week, a week and a half - at home. At the moment, we can say that the adaptation to the kindergarten went well.

But on the other hand, for the last two months, the daughter has completely ceased to perceive her father: when he comes up to her to kiss or play, she starts shouting “daddy, go”, “daddy away” and asks her mother. And he goes straight into a real hysteria.

At the same time, if the daughter does not want to do something (for example, collect toys or go to wash), then she runs to her father in her arms. Every time we sit down to have lunch or dinner with the whole family, my daughter throws tantrums, saying that dad is looking at her, dad is sitting, starts climbing on me, moaning, screaming (not crying), etc. My husband begins to reprimand me that I spoiled her and that the child must be strictly.

In general, quarrels arise on this basis almost every day and I am very upset. You have to take your daughter by the hand, take her to her room, close the door (not with a lock, of course, but just let her know that while she behaves like this, she has no place at the common table and when she calms down, she can leave). The daughter starts screaming very loudly in her room (the scream lasts a maximum of 5 minutes, then she starts to scatter books in the room or again comes to us and asks to be in my arms) and we spend the whole dinner (which lasts 15-20 minutes) in gloomy tension , or the husband begins to compost my brain, that I don’t bring her up that way, spoil her, etc.

It should be noted that when my daughters and I are alone at home, this is a completely different child: no screaming, no endless whining and clinging to me, she walks, plays by herself next to me. But as soon as the husband comes, the daughter immediately begins to act up. But my husband works from home, so he is almost always at home.

My husband is 16 years older than me, a very authoritarian person, does not believe in psychology, a crisis of 3 years, etc., believes that all whims must be eradicated only by severity, otherwise in the future we will not cope with it at all. When the husband takes his daughter in his arms and she starts to scream and break out, he still holds her on purpose to annoy. As a result, she will irritate the child, the daughter runs to me, and then I am to blame for hugging her. I get very angry and sometimes I catch myself thinking how tired I am of both of them.

I am 4 months pregnant and so I want peace in the family. This whole situation started about two months ago. Before that, the daughter had not had such aggression towards her father, on the contrary, only he put her to bed, they played, they could spend the whole day together.

What is the best thing to do? I don’t want to punish the child, because I don’t think that she is directly spoiled, she’s just my mother’s daughter and she needs me, and punishing dad for aggression towards dad is also somehow strange: “you won’t be forced to be nice” and you can’t force a child to go to dad and express their affection only because "mother punished."

In general, I maneuver between two explosive personalities and do not know what is right and what is not.

Help me please.

Karina

Good afternoon

The main difficulty that you have encountered is related to the lack of internal emotional comfort in the family. Therefore, the first thing to do now is to understand the current situation. To begin with, determine whether the requirements for the child on the part of adults are always consistent and the same for both parents? Doesn't it happen that sometimes a girl is given a remark or encouragement, and sometimes, in a similar situation, the reaction of adults is simply absent.

Also analyze the activities that your daughter's day is filled with. Perhaps the child spends a lot of time alone, so he wants attention to himself, and hence disobedience and other forms of provocation in behavior. Try to calmly talk with your spouse about the fact that both parents should have the same ways of interacting with their daughter. For example, it is desirable to use a friendly, calm tone of voice in communication, avoid shouting or threatening. If the child does not respond to your appeal, calmly approach your daughter, sit down next to you to ensure eye contact, and repeat your statement.

Try also not to interfere in conflicts that arise between father and daughter. It is important for the general well-being that family members can negotiate among themselves without the participation of a “third party”. If possible, seek face-to-face counseling with an adult psychologist or use the psychological helpline.

You now need psychological support and help more than all other members of your family. In order to overcome the difficulties that have arisen, as well as to prepare for the birth of a second child, you need emotional comfort and well-being. Give these questions your time and be sure that you can change the situation for the better.

Anna Zubkova, specialist

The best thing is to be patient and wait. Do not lose hope and unravel the tangled threads one by one. No matter how hopeless the situation, the end of the thread is always somewhere. There is nothing left but to wait, just as, once in darkness, you wait until your eyes get used to it.

A man of about thirty-eight in military uniform, holding the strap of a backpack, stood at a distance from the crowd and waited for his only daughter, Margarita, who promised to see her father before leaving for the war zone. He was tall, with an athletic build, broad shoulders, a broad sloping forehead, wide arched dark eyebrows, slightly fused at the bridge of the nose, almond-shaped gray-green eyes that appear pale gray in the light of the setting sun, a straight nose with a gap, a large vertical chin, on who had a small scar and plump pink lips. The beard and mustache were neatly shaved from the swarthy oval, with prominent cheekbones, face of a man. He looked around, occasionally screwing up his eyes from the sun.

A short girl of thirteen, dressed in a light, sleeveless blue dress with daisies, white patterned stockings, and neat black shoes with small heels, hurried towards the man. She had a neat round face with a small vertical chin and an equally small forehead, thin arched dark eyebrows, large blue eyes with painted black fluffy eyelashes, a small upturned nose and plump crimson lips, slightly tinted with gloss. The girl was of medium build. Her waist-length dark blond hair was gathered into one chic thick braid adorned with a white ribbon. The girl covered her face from the sun and squinted her eyes.

The man approached her and the father and daughter embraced each other.

I thought you'd either be late or forget, and you're right on time, - said the father, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

Rita knew that smile by heart. He smiled so that his daughter at least somehow cheered up, and he always did this when the girl began to feel sad. And Rita was always smiling.

But, alas, not this time.

Margo knew where and what her father was going for. She knew he might never come back. “They kill in war,” Rita recalled a phrase from some book she read a year or two ago.

Inside, everything was shattered to smithereens, and the pain intensified every time, with every look at the dearest person. And, despite the fact that everything hurt and wanted to burst into tears, Margarita tried to smile because she didn’t want to upset her father - she would worry. And in war, excitement is out of place. He needs to be silent...

So Rita was silent, looking at her father. He seemed to the girl a courageous and confident soldier, which is usually shown in films. It would seem that a brave father should be proud and shout to the whole yard: “My dad is going to war! But he is brave and will win anyone in battle! - but Rita didn't need it. She needed a dad. Dad, not the word and last name, first name, patronymic in the passport. It's dad.

Ritun, - he began, taking his daughter by the hands, - you yourself understand what is happening there, in Chechnya. The Motherland needs us, she called us for help.

Rita silently nodded her head in agreement, and her eyes slowly filled with tears.

Therefore, be smart here, you are a big girl and you understand what's what. Promise, daughter?

Rita rolled her eyes.

I promise, daddy,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.
The father smiled affectionately and stroked his daughter's hair.

Look, Margot, how you've grown! And I didn't even have time to blink my eyes. Then, I remember, a ma-a-scarlet envelope with a tiny screaming girl, but now who is standing in front of me? The young lady is an adult, a real pillar noblewoman!

And again he tries to cheer her up, although he himself is also not in the mood to smile, because he knows what he is getting into. But not afraid. He's not used to it. He had already seen one war and was even able to survive. Will it survive the second one? He really hoped so.

Everyone leaves me ... First mom, then grandfather, then Dasha and now you ...

Tears welled up in Rita's eyes, and the girl began to sob.
The father expected such a reaction. He put his hands on his daughter's shoulders and smiled kindly. And this smile, like the sun at sunrise, illuminated his haggard face.
Rita will miss that smile. She will not survive this, she will wither mentally while her father is at war. Will perish...

Hot tears ran down Rita's cheeks. The girl did not wipe them. She only clung to her father, buried her face in his strong shoulder, as she always did and, probably, will do until the end of her days. If my father comes back. But he will be back! Rita until the last believed that she would return. And then everything will be fine and, maybe, it will be as before.

I want with you. If it were possible, I would follow you, dad. Like Yesenin - at least in his own, even in other people's distances.

But you can't, girl. There are no children in the war, they do not belong there. You can be killed.

You too.

I know sunshine.

Why are you going?

Then, that the Motherland called. She can't cope without us, without male power.

And I can't do without you, dad.

Suddenly, someone's low male voice was heard, clearly calling the soldiers to disperse to their cars. Many, finally hugging their relatives more tightly and kissing their wives and girls, each hurried to their car. Margarita's father tried to hide in the crowd.

You can do it, Rita, I believe in you! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go. - And, having said this, he finally hugged his daughter even tighter.

Try to go back, daddy ... - the girl said through tears.

There, on my shelf in the closet, there is a blue package. It's the dress I bought you. Put it on when you're fifteen. Goodbye, Rita.

And the father hurriedly went to his train. Was it painful for him to say goodbye to his daughter? Was he tormented by the fear that he would never see his adult Margo and hear the gentle voice of his elderly mother? That is why he walked, trying not to turn around in the direction of his daughter. No, he was not annoyed by her tears, he did not just want to cause the girl new pain.

And Rita was standing almost at the very edge of the platform, forlornly clinging to a thick, deadly cold lamppost. Tears flowed down her cheeks.

Dad! - the girl shouted with all her might when she saw him looking out of the window. - Come back soon!

Wait for me princess! he shouted and waved to his daughter.

Margarita wanted to say something else to dad, but, unfortunately, her voice simply broke. Not to wheezing and coughing, but completely gone.

And at that moment the train started moving. Painfully, the native profile of my father disappeared from view, as soon as the carriage itself.

The mourners gradually dispersed, and at the very edge of the platform, hugging the ice column with her arms, a girl stood and looked into that blue distance, where her closest person, after her grandmother, had gone.

The old war song has been replaced by more modern music. The song of the Kar-men group was playing about how calm and wonderful everything is in the beautiful, lost among the deserts, the city of Baghdad. “Everything is calm in Baghdad, everything is calm in Baghdad!” - cheerfully chattered the singer. There, somewhere far from Russia, maybe it was calm, and people probably heard about the war only in books and morning news, but here and now, at the railway station in the city of Vyshny Volochek, it was stressful. Here the air was saturated with the burden of separation, regret and tears of relatives who, against their will, gave the most precious thing - their fiancés, husbands, brothers, sons - to protect the Motherland. You can list forever, but this does not change the main essence.

Rita was not shy of emotions and, clinging to the pillar as if to a loved one, sobbed like a beluga and, like a child, wiped her tears with slightly soiled fists. But why "how"? After all, she was a child, although she matured at the age of seven due to the prevailing life difficulties.

Already in the late afternoon, when the first lanterns began to light up in the city, devastated and broken, Margarita trudged towards the house, where her sick grandmother was patiently waiting for her.

Tomorrow will be as ordinary as the previous ones: the day will change into night, it will still be hot, the same trains at the station will come and go, bringing and taking people with them, the same sad see-offs and happy greeters, the same homeless cats at the stalls, the same beggars scurrying around at every turn, begging for alms, the same thin-legged fashionistas in bright clothes at the entrance, the same uncivilized inscription on the fence. Everything will be as before. And only Rita will have an emptiness inside and the realization that only the dearest person is missing for complete happiness.

Today someone says "Goodbye!"
Tomorrow they will say "Goodbye forever!".
A heart wound heals...

“Yes…” I answered uncertainly.
Then she said something else, but I did not listen to her.
Further exchange of rings and a realistic kiss. We did everything for real, running tongues into each other's mouths. This kiss did not want to be interrupted, it feels like we crossed bonds of our own free will.
I really liked it. Sitting at the wedding table, Yegor and I had a nice conversation. In the morning I hated that person, and now I take his hand without permission and look straight into blue eyes. Everyone eats, but I don’t have time to eat.
- Well, wife, a glass of champagne?

We had a lot of fun. We danced a beautiful dance. Midnight is already approaching, and we are still walking. There are so many thoughts in my head that you don’t hear anyone around, only your own thoughts.

Hmm, maybe the father's words are true?
"Father, I won't marry him!

- Daughter, do not upset dad!

“Dad! Why is all this necessary?! Why ruin your life with the person you don’t love?!

“Influenza, do you think that your mother and I left of our own free will?! No, daughter, no ... After the wedding, we hated everyone around, even ourselves! And then time passed, quite a bit, a week, a month ... and something like that began to wake up .... something like love! At first you won’t understand, and then you already want children from this person, believe me!!"

Maybe it's all true? Maybe we can fall in love with each other? Pf, no, such a fucking thing, everything went to hell!

- Agrippina, our photos have already flown into the network! - Yegor held out the phone with pictures .... fuck it! - Now you know that we should behave like a family? At least in public! If there is a rumor that ... - What is he rubbing me here ?! I actually I know everything!

“Fuck, I know! If there’s a rumor about a marriage of convenience, it’s going to be bad for everyone!”

- Well, dear, the wedding night will be hot!

- Hey, you'll have a hot night in the toilet with your right hand and porn! - I turned away from Bulatkin.

Hey, that's not interesting! Well, darling .. — What you won’t do for sex

- No ... beloved ..

-Well dear...

- No .... dear ..

Well, my love...

- No.. my love..

“Ts, tyrant!” Bulatkin chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest.

- And I bet you can't last a month without sex? - I turned to Yegor.

“Pf, easy! But if I win, then we will have a sleepless night!” His eyes lit up.

- And if I win, then ... hmm .... I'll think about it! We held hands, I broke.

- August 15, 2017 Bulatkina Agrippina Alekseevna ... will be fucked hard! Yegor grinned.

Let's see, darling, let's see!

God, my head! Omagad omagad omagad! Egor's hand lay on my waist, his nose rested on my neck. His hot breath caused a herd of goosebumps. I carefully got up and wandered into the bath.

After relaxing, I went downstairs. Both the Bulatkins and the Kumachevs were sitting at the table.

“Good morning everyone, Let's not have a market, and it sucks.” I poured myself water with ice and returned to the room.

Egorio is sleeping, what to do? My hubby received an SMS on his phone, but I'm not me, if I don't get in and read it! from a whore. Epekhepkhep, Dasha... hmm...

"Egorushka, are you coming today? I'm bored. I bought new underwear, see??"

Fu, whore!

"Are you aware that I got married yesterday?"

No, but what?! He is my husband! I have every right to do so!

"Bunny, are you kidding? You said that you love only me!"

Evzezvzvzvzkze, personal whore!

Then I did not notice that Yegor woke up. He grabbed the phone from my hands.

“Are you crazy?! Who allowed you to climb on my phone ... let alone write to someone!”

I am your wife, I have the right to everything!

Egor threw me on the bed, his hands wandered over my body.

I have rights to everything too!

- Egor, we agreed! Stop it, please!

Yegor had to let me go, because Yegor's mother entered the room without knocking ... She saw a fascinating picture .. Yegor lies on me, his hands are under my T-shirt ......

“Oh, oh, oh, I didn’t see anything!”

- No, everything is fine, come in Marina Petrovna.

- I'll come later.

Krch, I'm writing a new ff))

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