"What Waaam, Nooooo?"once more, but she stretched out more fiercely.
And through gushing tears flow do not obey consciousness, I quietly and timidly defenseless, as you might say thirty years ago then at boarding school in every second, waiting, whispered:
"Hello, mother.…»
Grandma was stupefied. The girl, silence, looked, like a grown tall man shed tears, and didn't understand.
"Hello, mother" – already more firmly, strictly and with a share of aggression, I said.
The grandmother looked silently into my eyes, she peered as if into every atom of the structure of my eyes, and only when tears flowed from her dried eyes, she bowed her head already very quietly, and fragile said:
"My Vitalik is alive," and pulled the handkerchief from her head, putting her old hands to her eyes.
***
Grandma told the girls to go to her house, and called me into the house. I took a bucket of water and brought it to the house.
I didn't know how to behave. Rather hug her and squeeze her, as I saw in my imagination, piercing all these years, or imprinting her in the wall for what disfigured my childhood and, in fact, all my life. After all, for all these years I have not had a single friend who was from a full respectable family, not a single friend from the secular society. All my life I communicated with the same forgotten and abandoned to some extent people. I was nothing, and I grew up nothing. The employee on watch at the city airport is not the future I dreamed of. What have I seen? What I achieved? It's been written all my life on my face, "godforsaken loser." So what should I do now?
Mother didn't know how to behave either. I saw her reading every thought I had, and she kept looking into my eyes, and then she looked down at the floor. She sat down on the sofa, asked me to sit next to her, but I sat across from her on the floor. The room overflowed dreary silent second note, which seemed to last forever.
"Well, tell" – a quiet but firm voice spoke to mother me.
Mother kept quiet. She wasn't looking at me, sitting motionless, and did not know where to fall, from this difficult situation. Through tears and convulsive shaking of the whole body, she only repeated with a trembling voice – " Vitalik.... my boy… my son… my… alive."
Mixed feelings blazed in me. And it seems to approach, calm, but do not obey the hands and feet. Sitting on the floor, watching, listening.