Book -11 Aliens novella - стр. 5

In the evening, at dinner, I asked my mother:

– Mom, who's the beekeeper?

Mother replied in displeasure:

– You better ask your grandmother.

I scowled again.

"Well, why, why do not they talk to me kindly? Err, here Father Valchi always with a smile, always tells everything about everything in the world. " But, curiosity prevailed. And I went up to my grandmother, who at that time was busy, as always, by the stove. Grandmother turned to me a face, all dug with deep fine wrinkles, with an ever trembling chin: – What are you jumping from behind the table? Sit down, I hear. "I sat down again at the table." I'll get potatoes and meat now. " Grandmother, deftly using the pitchforks, removed the hot pot from the stove.

– Ba ah, ah, grandmother?

– Yes, I hear, I hear. Chogee to you?

– And who is the bee- keeper? – I was not building.

– Yes identity Fedos Kuzmovich, dyachek!

– Ba ah, ah, grandmother, what's that, dyachek?

– This is the one who reads the psalms in the church. Here you go with me to stick a pasture there and See.

My grandmother was my best friend. Always a defense, always an adviser – a friend in one word. My mother, busy at work on a state farm, practically did not work on me – once. And I grew up without proper motherly affection, on my own. I did not have a father. Who is the father? His appointment in the family I do not know. But the unconscious feeling attracted me to other people's fathers. And visiting my friends, at times I did not want to go home; my friend's father felt such confidence. Such a filial atmosphere surrounded my father by children, that I always regretted returning home. What can I say, I secretly envied neighbor Vale and her brother Volodya Sinilov?

One day, I remember this for life; my father took the children to the store. And I, like a homeless little dog, got stuck in the neighbors. There's nothing but no. And a gun shooting cork, and balls, and even a scooter. Father bought toys for children, to choose from. Volodya got a gun and a scooter. Valya, the ball and the doll. To me, of course, nothing…

It's time for the Easter holiday. My grandmother wore clean festive clothes, she gave me a white shirt and new breeches, just below the knees. On the pants of the bridge were buckles on the buttons under the knees. And my grandmother and I went to the church. From the basket that my grandmother carried, a spicy scent of puffs, pies with homemade cottage cheese, and baked crosses on buns, and dyed eggs emanated.

At the iconostasis, the priest in a long robe to the toe was standing with his back to the parishioners and singing a prayer book in a singing voice: