A strong story "tomato juice" by my friend Sasha Tsypkin from his future book. Danila Kozlovsky reads the story: "Tomato juice" by Alexander Tsypkin lyrics Daniil Kozlovsky tomato juice

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"Tomato juice" Alexander Tsypkin(executor: Danila Kozlovsky reads a story)

I rarely saw my friends cry. Boys cry alone or in front of girls. (footballers don't count, they can do anything). In front of other boys, we try to look like iron and only give up when things get really bad. The tears of my friend, which suddenly appeared in his eyes, when we were driving to Moscow, cut into my memory all the more sharply, and I poured myself a tomato juice. Now let's move on to the presentation of the essence of the matter, fun and instructive. In my youth, I had many different companies, they were intertwined with bodies or deeds, new people constantly appeared and disappeared. Young souls lived like in a blender. One of these friends who came from nowhere was Semyon. The same representative as me, from a slightly "gilded" youth. In addition to wasting his life, he worked as a translator, traded in some gold items, sometimes bombed on his father's car, was very diligent, honest and compassionate, which in those days was hardly a competitor of advantage, he was also very attached to his relatives, with whom he introduced me. Our family was similar, young parents trying to find themselves in dashing post-socialism, and the older generation, whose role grew immeasurably in the troubled times of the collapse of the USSR. These steel people, who were born in Russia at the beginning of the 20th century and survived in its bloody waters, became load-bearing walls in every family. They rightly believed that children cannot be trusted with grandchildren. Semyon's grandmother's name was Lidia Lvovna. There are load-bearing walls in which you can cut through an arch, but any perforator would dull Lidia Lvovna. At the time of our meeting, she was about eighty, the same age as October, so to speak, who despised this very October with all her heart, but considered it below her dignity and reason to fight with him. She was an aristocrat without aristocratic roots, interspersed with traces of Moses DNA, about which she spoke like this: "In any decent person there should be Jewish blood, but no more than rolls in cutlets." She was strong in health and so sane that some of it aroused class hatred. Self-esteem competed in her only with the severity of character, and the ruthlessness of sarcasm. She was also very wealthy, she lived alone in a two-room apartment on Ryleeva Street and often went to the country, which, of course, was more important for Semyon and me than anything else. Not everyone liked sex in the car, but almost everyone liked sex in a good apartment. In addition, Lydia Lvovna was always a source of food, money, and a little more often than good cognac. She understood everything, and considered this quitrent not painfully painful, besides, she loved her grandson, and she knew how to love. By the way, not everyone can afford it. Afraid. Grandma Lida was not afraid of anything. Proud, independent, with excellent taste and impeccable manners, with well-groomed hands, modest but expensive jewelry, she is still an example for me of what a woman should be at any age. Her quote book could have been published, but we fools didn’t remember much: “A doctoral dissertation in the head does not give a woman the right not to wash her head.” Simon and I agreed. “Money is good in old age and bad in youth.” Semyon and I disagreed. "A man cannot live only without that woman who can live without him." Semyon and I did not have a clear position. “Senya, you disappeared for two weeks, even Zoshchenko did not allow himself this (the writer, as I understand it, at one time showed interest in Lydia Lvovna). “Grandma, why couldn’t you call me yourself?” - Semyon tried to fight off. “I didn’t impose myself on Zoshchenko either, and I’m certainly not going to you, you idiot. Moreover, you will still run out of money, and you will come, but you will feel like an ungrateful pig. Joy is not great, but still. Semyon almost wrote in ink on his arm: “call my grandmother,” but he still forgot, and his friends, like me, by the way, called him “grandmother-dependent.” "I know what happens here when I'm away, but if I ever find evidence of this, your love house will be closed for endless airing." It was from Lydia Lvovna that I acquired the skills of a high-class cleaner. The loss of such a boudoir would be a disaster for us. “So it is. Only one pair of rabbits can be in this apartment at a time. My room is inviolable. And by the way, remember one more thing: judging by your behavior, in adulthood, you will have problems with fidelity. So, only a downcast loser can sleep with his mistress on his wife's bed. Consider that my bed is your future family bed. Semyon, with his complete sloppiness and cynicism, protected his grandmother's room like money from hooligans, that is, in all possible ways. This adherence to principles cost him his friendship with one comrade, but inspired respect for all the rest. “Senya, the only thing you have to protect is health. It’s expensive to get sick, and believe me, you will never have money.” Grandma wasn't wrong. Unfortunately ... “Senya becomes like his mother in face, and his father in character. It would be better the other way around ”- Lydia Lvovna uttered this phrase in the presence of both parents

A funny and at the same time sad story about a woman from another time. I will be glad if you read it to the end.
I rarely saw my friends cry. Boys cry alone or in front of girls. (footballers don't count, they can do anything). In front of other boys, we try to look like iron and only give up when things get really bad.
The tears of my friend, which suddenly appeared in his eyes, when we were driving to Moscow, cut into my memory all the more sharply, and I poured myself a tomato juice.
Now let's move on to the presentation of the essence of the matter, fun and instructive.

In my youth, I had many different companies, they were intertwined with bodies or deeds, new people constantly appeared and disappeared. Young souls lived like in a blender. One of these friends who came from nowhere was Semyon.
A slob and a reveler from a good Leningrad family. Both were a prerequisite for getting into our society. Not to say that we "did not take" others, by no means, it's just that our paths did not cross. In the 90s, slobs from bad families went to organized crime groups, or simply slid down the proletarian slope, and NOT slobs from good families either created businesses or slid down the scientific slope, by the way, most often, in the same financial direction as the proletarians.

We, a sort of gilded youth, burned our lives, knowing that genetics and family reserves never let us down.
Our parents were young and tried to find themselves in dashing post-socialism. Therefore, the role of the older generation grew immeasurably. These steel people, unsuccessfully born in Russia at the beginning of the 20th century, and who survived in its bloody waters, became load-bearing walls in every family. They rightly believed that children cannot be trusted with grandchildren, since a child cannot raise a child. As a result, grandparents and two generations of equally unintelligent children most often ended up in the family.

Semyon's grandmother's name was Lidia Lvovna. There are load-bearing walls in which you can cut through an arch, but any perforator would dull Lidia Lvovna. At the time of our meeting, she was about eighty, the same age as October, so to speak, who despised this very October with all her heart, but considered it below her dignity and reason to fight with him. She was an aristocrat without aristocratic roots, although both the proletariat and the peasantry bypassed her genealogical tree. Traces of Moses were visible in places in the veins, about which Lidia Lvovna spoke like this: “In any decent person there should be Jewish blood, but no more than rolls in cutlets.” She was strong in health and so sane that some of it aroused class hatred.

An hour of conversation with Lilia Lvovna replaced a year at the university in terms of encyclopedic knowledge and was absolutely priceless in terms of knowledge of life. Self-esteem competed in her only with the heaviness of character and the ruthlessness of sarcasm. She was also very wealthy, she lived alone in a two-room apartment on Ryleeva Street and often went to the country, which, of course, was more important for Semyon and me than anything else. Not everyone liked sex in the car, but almost everyone liked sex in a good apartment. Semyon and I loved sex, and he reciprocated by sending various young ladies for short-term and medium-term relationships. In addition, Lidia Lvovna has always been a source of food, sometimes money and a little more often good cognac. She understood everything, and considered this quitrent not painfully painful, besides, she loved her grandson, and she knew how to love. By the way, not everyone can afford it. Afraid. Grandma Lida was not afraid of anything. Proud, independent, with excellent taste and impeccable manners, with well-groomed hands, modest but expensive jewelry, she is still an example for me of what a woman should be at any age.

This woman's quote could have been published, but we fools didn't remember much:

“A doctoral dissertation in the head does not give a woman the right not to wash her head.” Simon and I agreed.

“Money is good in old age and bad in youth.” Semyon and I disagreed.

"A man cannot live only without that woman who can live without him." Semyon and I did not have a clear position.

“Senya, you disappeared for two weeks, even Zoshchenko did not allow himself this (the writer, as I understand it, at one time showed interest in her).
“Grandma, why couldn’t you call me yourself?” - Semyon tried to fight off.
“I didn’t impose myself on Zoshchenko either, and I’m certainly not going to you, you idiot.
Moreover, you will still run out of money, and you will come, but you will feel like an ungrateful pig. Joy is not great, but still. Semyon almost wrote in ink on his arm: “call my grandmother,” but he still forgot, and his friends, like me, by the way, called him “grandmother-dependent.”

"I know what happens here when I'm away, but if I ever find evidence of this, your love house will be closed for endless airing." It was from Lydia Lvovna that I acquired the skills of a high-class cleaner. The loss of such a boudoir would be a disaster for us.

“So it is. Only one pair of rabbits can be in this apartment at a time. My room is inviolable. And by the way, remember one more thing: judging by your behavior, in adulthood, you will have problems with fidelity. So, only a downcast loser can sleep with his mistress on his wife's bed. Consider my bed as your future family bed." Semyon, with his complete sloppiness and cynicism, protected his grandmother's room like money from hooligans, that is, in all possible ways. This adherence to principles cost him his friendship with one comrade, but inspired respect for all the rest.

“Senya, the only thing you have to protect is health. It’s expensive to get sick, and believe me, you will never have money.” Grandma wasn't wrong. Unfortunately…

“Senya becomes similar in face to his mother, and in character to his father. It would be better the other way around, ”Lydia Lvovna uttered this phrase in the presence of both Semyon's parents. Aunt Lena looked through her mother-in-law. Uncle Lesha asked phlegmatically: “Why don’t you like Lenkino’s face?” - and began to look at his wife, as if he really doubted. The journey, by its nature, went unnoticed. “I really like Lenin’s face, but it doesn’t suit a man at all, like your character,” Lidia Lvovna either really meant what she said, or felt sorry for her daughter-in-law.

“I’m going to the Philharmonic with Aunt Tanya. Her granddaughter will be with her. Beautiful girl, you can meet me and get to know her. I think she'll want to pick you up when no one needs you." Aunt Tanya's granddaughter picked up another. And how you chose!

"A good daughter-in-law is an ex-daughter-in-law." Together with the divorce certificate, the ex-wives of Senya's father received a notification about the love of the former mother-in-law that finally fell on them

“Semyon, if you tell a girl that you love her only to drag her into bed, you are not just a bastard, you are a cowardly and mediocre bastard.” Needless to say, we have learned this lesson. Well, at least I do. Honesty and openness in thoughts has always been the key to a peaceful sleep, a quick decision of the opposite side and friendly relations in the future, regardless of the presence of an erotic component.

“Oh boys… in old age it can be either bad or very bad. It can’t be good in old age ... "

Subsequently, I met a lot of relatively happy old people, and no less unhappy young people. It seems to me that people initially live at the same age, and when their personal age matches their biological age, they are happy. You look at Jagger - he's always twenty-five. And how many thirty-year-olds, in which the vitality is barely seventy? Boring, grumbling, extinct. Lidia Lvovna, it seems to me, was happy at thirty-five or forty, at that wonderful age when a woman is still beautiful, but already wise, still looking for someone, but can already live alone.

It so happened that one day I was unlucky (or rather, lucky) and I had the good fortune to communicate with Lidia Lvovna in completely unexpected circumstances.
And it all started very prosaically. I was put aside by my passion, was in anguish and was treated by a spree. Of all the tools needed for this, I always had only desire. However, sometimes I managed to stick into some classmate or classmate's friend so much that there was a reason to ask Senya for the keys to my grandmother's apartment. According to verified information, Lidia Lvovna was supposed to leave for the country. With the keys in my pocket, and lust in my head, I invited the girl supposedly to the cinema. We met about two hours before the session, and my cunning plan was as follows: to say that my grandmother asked me to come in to check if she turned off the iron, offer tea, and then suddenly attack. The girl and I once passionately kissed in the entrance and, judging by the reaction to my already spread hands, the chances of winning were great.

I did not intend to introduce my friend to my relatives, and therefore it did not seem to me such a problem to imagine Lidia Lvovna's apartment as my own grandmother's apartment. I planned to remove the photo of Semyon in advance, but, of course, I was late and therefore came up with a story about the unheard-of love of a granny for my friend, a joint vacation and a tearfully touching card that I made myself and therefore I am not on it. Selfies didn't exist back then.

Everything went according to plan. My friend was so worried about the iron that I barely had time to run after her. I’m wondering if we were created in the image and likeness, then God was also once young and ran across the sky like that ... In general, the stairs were taken by storm with stops for kisses. Of course, these youthful fears (what if he doesn’t agree) make us rush so much that sometimes it’s the rush that destroys everything. With lips on my lips, I began with trembling hands to try to stuff the key into the keyhole. The key didn't budge. "Good start," the classic pun came to mind.

Give me myself! - My favorite female phrase. The kissed girl gently inserted the key, turned it and… the house exploded. More precisely, the whole world exploded.
- Who's there? asked Lidia Lvovna.
- This is Sasha, - a voice completely alien to me answered from space.
After that, the door opened. I don't know what happened in my brain, but I gave an interesting impromptu.
- Granny hello, and we went to check the iron, as you asked.

I still don't understand how I had the audacity to do something like that. You know, the intelligentsia has a wonderful concept of "uncomfortable in front of ...". It is impossible to explain it to another caste. This is not about rudeness or rudeness towards someone, and not even about infringement of interests. This is some strange experience that another person will think or feel if you create something that, as you think, does not correspond to his ideas about world harmony. Very often, those in front of whom we are uncomfortable would be sincerely surprised if they recognized our throwing.
I was extremely embarrassed in front of a young girlfriend, because I brought her to a strange house for an obvious purpose. And this feeling won over the "inconvenience" in front of Lidia Lvovna.

She thought for just a second. Smiling with the corners of her eyes, the "lady" entered the game:
- Thank you, but, you see, I didn’t go to the dacha - I don’t feel very well, come in, have some tea. And thanks for the iron, I am very pleased that for the sake of your grandmother you even interrupted the date.
- Meet this ... - with fear, I forgot the name of my companion. That is absolutely.
This still happens to me sometimes. I can suddenly forget the name of a person close enough to me. It's terrible, but it was then that I came up with a way out of such a predicament.
I suddenly reached into my pocket for the phone (then only small Ericssons appeared), pretending to have called me.
- Excuse me, I will answer, - and, imitating a conversation on the phone, he began to listen carefully as my girlfriend introduces herself to my "grandmother".
- Kate.
- Lydia Lvovna. Please pass.
I immediately ended the pseudo-conversation and we went to the kitchen. I would even say a kitchenette, cramped and uncomfortable, with a window overlooking the wall of the opposite house, but it was perhaps the best kitchen in Petersburg. For many, their whole life is similar to such a kitchen, despite the presence of penthouses and villas.
- Katya, will you have tea?
Lidia Lvovna taught everyone to address to you, especially to the younger ones and to the attendants. I remember her lecture
Someday you will have a driver. So, always, I repeat ALWAYS, be with him on you, even if he is your age and has been working for you for ten years. "You" is the armor given to the unfortunate Russians so that they can hide from the redneck and rudeness of the reality around them.
Platinum Words.

Lidia Lvovna took out cups, put them on saucers, also took out a milk jug, a teapot, silver spoons, put raspberry jam in a crystal vase. So Lydia Lvovna always drank tea. There was no pretentiousness or pretentiousness in this. For her, it was as natural as saying "hello" and not "hello", not walking around the house in a dressing gown and visiting doctors with a small present.
Katya's eyes took the shape of saucers. She immediately went to wash her hands.

Eh-eh Sasha, you don't even remember her name... - Lydia Lvovna looked at me warmly and with some sadness.
- Thank you very much…sorry, I didn't know what to do.
- Don't worry, I understand, you're a well-mannered boy, it's uncomfortable in front of a girl, she's still young, she must keep up appearances, and don't go to other people's apartments.
- I accidentally forgot the name, honestly.
- And what about Xenia? - As I said, I recently broke up with my girlfriend. We met for several years and often visited, including Lidia Lvovna's at Senya's family holidays.
- Well, to be honest, she left me.
- It's a pity, good girl, although I understood that everything would end like this.
- Why? - I loved Ksenya and the breakup was hard enough.
- You see, good and even unique qualities that form the basis of your personality are not very important to her, and she is not ready to accept your shortcomings, which are the reverse side of these qualities.

I confess that at that time I did not understand what she was talking about, and then for a long time I tried to change some character traits in people, not realizing that they were an integral part of the virtues that admired me.
Suddenly Lidia Lvovna's face was filled with anxiety, and she, as if remembering something important, quickly said:

Sashenka, you just continue to be friends with Senya, he is a good guy, kind, but there is no rage in him, and a man should have it, at least sometimes. I am very worried about him. Will you look after him? Everything in life will work out for you, but he doesn’t, at least worthy friends will be around. Promise?

For the first time I saw some kind of helplessness in the eyes of this strongest of all the women I knew. The biggest price to pay for the happiness of loving someone is the inevitable pain of not being able to help. Sooner or later this is bound to happen.

Katya returned from the bathroom, we drank strong brewed tea, and talked a little.
- Katya, I hope Sasha is behaving with dignity?
- He is very good, now I understand in whom.
- Thank you, but I only recently actively connected to his upbringing, before that, basically another grandmother tried.
I almost swallowed a spoonful and realized that it was time to finish this theater, especially since I did not know how to get out of it further. We finished our tea and I gracefully signaled my departure.
- Well, it's time and honor to know.
- It's definitely Sasha.
Lidia Lvovna smiled and went to see us off.
- Come on guys, run. Sashka to his friend Senya say hello.

In the evening, Semyon and I laughed to tears, and a week later Lidia Lvovna died in her sleep. Senya did not have time to visit her after my visit, because he again went somewhere for the weekend.

Two months later we went with him to Moscow. Red Arrow, coupe, a whole adventure for two blockheads. The barman looked into our cell, and I asked for tomato juice to go with the vodka I had stockpiled in advance.
He opened it, poured a full glass and looked at Senya. He looked at my juice and cried. Well, more precisely, the tears stopped right at the edge of the eyes and were about to “break the dam”.
- Senka, what happened?
- Grandmother. She always asked me to buy her tomato juice. I have only seen her fourteen times in the past year. I counted.
Senya turned away because boys don't cry in front of boys. A few minutes later, when he turned around again, it was already another Senya. Completely different. Light, but not so bright. His face was like sand that had just been washed over by a wave. Grandmother left and he finally believed in it, as well as in the fact that no one else would ever love him like that.

And I realized that when a loved one dies, we simultaneously experience pain equal to the warmth that we have received from him throughout our lives. Some cosmic scales are leveling out. Both God and physicists are calm.
While those who love you are here, try to increase the pain you will feel when they leave. She's worth it. It's probably the only thing worth anything at all.

Did you love?

How much was yours? How much did they pay for their own love?

To great happiness or unfortunately, I am sure that EVERY person is destined to experience LOVE. Let's not get attached to the life span of each individual feeling or its individual characteristics, the types of objects of this very love. Let us highlight one extremely important and, most often inevitable, component of this tender and cruel feeling. PRICE.

Everything has a price and fees are charged regardless of your willingness to pay. This is the law of the universe in which we live.

A completely random quote from a completely unexpected source - Alexander Tsypkin's story "Tomato Juice" - touched a nerve.

I am attaching a video where actor Danila Kozlovsky reads this story and I suggest you just listen. Listen not for the quote, but for the meaning. There is surprisingly A LOT of it here.

Some quotes of the main character, as the actor put it, can be considered an integral finished work, consisting of several words.

The biggest price to pay for happiness is to love someone

It is the inevitable pain of being powerless to help.

Sooner or later this is bound to happen.

Well, for those who perceive the printed word better, I allowed myself to steal the text of the story from the official website of Alexander Tsypkin.

Sorry, but LOVE to all.

__________________________

TOMATO JUICE

Tale of a woman from another time

I rarely saw my friends cry. After all, boys cry alone or in front of girls (football players don't count, they can do anything). With other boys, we rarely cry, and only when it's really bad.

The tears of my friend, which suddenly appeared in his eyes, when we were driving to Moscow, cut into my memory all the more sharply, and I poured myself a tomato juice.

Now let's move on to the presentation of the essence of the matter, fun and instructive.

In my youth, I had many different companies, they were intertwined with bodies or deeds, new people constantly appeared and disappeared. Young souls lived like in a blender. One of these friends, who came from nowhere, was Semyon. A slob from a good Leningrad family. Both were a prerequisite for getting into our society. Not to say that we "did not take" others, by no means, it's just that our paths did not cross. In the 90s, slobs from bad families went to organized crime groups, or simply slid down the proletarian slope, and non-slobs from good families either created businesses or slid down the scientific slope, by the way, most often in the same financial direction as the proletarians.

We, a sort of gilded youth, burned our lives, knowing that genetics and family reserves never let us down. Semyon, it must be said, tried to do something, worked as a translator, traded in some gold items, sometimes "bombed" in his father's car. He was very diligent, honest and compassionate, which in those days was hardly a competitive advantage. I remember, no matter how much we were engaged in transportation, there were always passengers with whom Senya was talking and then did not take money. And he was also very attached to his relatives, with whom he introduced me. Our families were similar.

Young parents who tried in vain to find themselves in dashing post-socialism, and the older generation, whose role grew immeasurably in the troubled times of the collapse of the USSR. These steel people, who were born in Russia at the beginning of the 20th century and survived in its bloody waters, have become load-bearing walls in every family. They rightly believed that children cannot be trusted with grandchildren, since a child cannot raise a child. As a result, grandparents and two generations of equally unintelligent children most often ended up in the family.

An hour of conversation with Lydia Lvovna replaced a year at the university in terms of encyclopedic knowledge and was invaluable in terms of knowledge of life. Self-esteem competed in her only with the heaviness of character and the ruthlessness of sarcasm. She was also very wealthy, she lived alone in a two-room apartment on Ryleeva Street and often went to the country, which, of course, for Semyon and me was more important than anything else. Not everyone liked sex in the car, but almost everyone liked sex in a good apartment. Semyon and I loved sex, and he reciprocated by sending various young ladies for short- and medium-term relationships. In addition, Lydia Lvovna has always been a source of food, sometimes money and a little more often - good cognac. She understood everything and considered this quitrent not painfully painful, besides, she loved her grandson, and she knew how to love. By the way, not everyone can afford it. Afraid. Grandma Lida was not afraid of anything. Proud, independent, with excellent taste and impeccable manners, with well-groomed hands, modest but expensive jewelry, she is still an example for me of what a woman should be at any age.

This woman's quote could have been published, but we fools didn't remember much:

“A doctoral dissertation in the head does not give a woman the right not to wash her head.” Simon and I agreed.

“Money is good in old age and bad in youth.” Semyon and I disagreed.

"A man cannot live only without that woman who can live without him." Semyon and I did not have a clear position.

“Senya, you disappeared for two weeks, even Zoshchenko did not allow himself this” (the writer, as I understand it, at one time showed interest in Lydia Lvovna).

“Grandma, why couldn’t you call me yourself?” - Semyon tried to fight off.

“I didn’t impose myself on Zoshchenko either, and I’m certainly not going to you, you idiot. Moreover, you will still run out of money and you will come, but you will feel like an ungrateful pig. Joy is not great, but still. Semyon almost wrote in ink on his arm: “call my grandmother,” but he still forgot, and his friends, like me, by the way, called him “grandmother’s addict.”

“So it is. Only one pair of rabbits can be in this apartment at a time. My room is inviolable. And by the way, remember one more thing: judging by your behavior, in adulthood you will have problems with fidelity. So, only a completely lowered loser can sleep with his mistress on his wife's bed. Consider my bed as your future family bed." Semyon, with his complete sloppiness and cynicism, protected his grandmother's room, like money from hooligans, that is, in all possible ways. This adherence to principles cost him his friendship with one comrade, but inspired respect for all the rest.

“Senya, the only thing you have to protect is health. It is expensive to get sick, and, believe me, you will never have money. Grandma wasn't wrong. Unfortunately…

“Senya becomes similar in face to his mother, and in character to his father. It would be better the other way around." Lidia Lvovna uttered this phrase in the presence of both Semyon's parents. Aunt Lena looked through her mother-in-law. Uncle Lesha asked phlegmatically: “Why don’t you like Lenkino’s face?” - and began to look at his wife, as if he really doubted. The journey, by its nature, went unnoticed. “I really like Lenin’s face, but it doesn’t suit a man at all, like your character,” Lidia Lvovna either really meant what she said, or felt sorry for her daughter-in-law.

"A good daughter-in-law is an ex-daughter-in-law." Together with the divorce certificate, the ex-wives of Senya's father received a notification about the love of their former mother-in-law that had finally fallen on them.

“Semyon, if you tell a girl that you love her, just to drag her into bed, you are not just a bastard, you are a cowardly and mediocre bastard.” Needless to say, we have learned this lesson. Well, at least I do. Honesty and openness in thoughts has always been the key to a peaceful sleep, a quick decision of the opposite side and friendly relations in the future, regardless of the presence of an erotic component.

“Oh boys… in old age it can be either bad or very bad. It can’t be good in old age ... "

Subsequently, I met a lot of relatively happy old people and no less unhappy young people. It seems to me that people initially live at the same age, and when their personal age matches their biological age, they are happy. You look at Jagger - he's always twenty-five. And how many thirty-year-olds, in which the vitality is barely seventy? Boring, grumbling, extinct. Lidia Lvovna, it seems to me, was happy at thirty-five or forty, at that wonderful age when a woman is still beautiful, but already wise, still looking for someone, but can already live alone.

It so happened that one day I was unlucky (or rather, lucky) and I had the good fortune to communicate with Lidia Lvovna in completely unexpected circumstances.

And it all started very prosaically. I was put aside by my passion, was in anguish and was treated by a spree. Of all the tools needed for this, I always had only desire. However, sometimes I managed to glare at some classmate or friend of a classmate so that there was a reason to ask Senya for the keys to my grandmother's apartment. According to verified information, Lidia Lvovna was supposed to leave for the country. With keys in my pocket and lust in my head, I invited the girl supposedly to the cinema. We met about two hours before the session, and my cunning plan was as follows: to say that my grandmother asked me to come in to check if she turned off the iron, offer tea, and then suddenly attack. The girl and I once passionately kissed in the entrance and, judging by the reaction to my already spread hands, the chances of winning were great.

I did not intend to introduce my friend to my relatives, and therefore it did not seem to me such a problem to imagine Lidia Lvovna's apartment as my own grandmother's apartment. I planned to remove the photo of Semyon in advance, but, of course, I was late and therefore came up with a story about the unheard-of love of a granny for my friend, a joint vacation and a tearfully touching card that I made myself, and therefore I am not on it. Selfies didn't exist back then.

Give me myself! - My favorite female phrase. The kissed girl gently inserted the key, turned it and… the house exploded. In fact, the whole world exploded.

Who's there? asked Lidia Lvovna.

This is Sasha, - a voice completely alien to me answered from space.

After that, the door opened. I don't know what happened in my brain, but I gave an interesting impromptu.

Granny, hi, and we went to check the iron, as you asked.

I still don't understand how I had the audacity to do something like that. You know, the intelligentsia has a wonderful concept of "uncomfortable in front of ...". It is impossible to explain it to another caste. This is not about rudeness or rudeness in someone's address, and not even about infringement of interests. This is some strange experience that another person will think or feel if you create something that, as you think, does not correspond to his ideas about world harmony. Very often, those in front of whom we are uncomfortable would be sincerely surprised if they found out about our throwing.

I was extremely embarrassed in front of a young friend for bringing her to a strange house for an obvious purpose. And this feeling won over the "inconvenience" in front of Lidia Lvovna.

She thought for just a second. Smiling with the corners of her eyes, the "lady" entered the game:

Thank you, but, you see, I didn’t go to the dacha - I don’t feel very well, come in, have some tea.

Meet this ... - with fear, I forgot the name of the girl. That is absolutely. This still happens to me sometimes. I can suddenly forget the name of a person close enough to me. It's terrible, but it was then that I came up with a way out of such a predicament.

I suddenly reached into my pocket for the phone (then only small Ericksons appeared), pretending to have called me.

Sorry, I will answer, - and, imitating a conversation on the phone, he began to listen carefully as my girlfriend introduces herself to my "grandmother".

Lydia Lvovna. Please pass.

I immediately ended the pseudo-conversation, and we went to the kitchen. I would even say a kitchenette, cramped and uncomfortable, with a window overlooking the wall of the house opposite, but it was perhaps the best kitchen in Petersburg. For many, their whole life is similar to such a kitchen, despite the presence of penthouses and villas.

Katya, will you have tea?

Lidia Lvovna taught everyone to address to "you", especially to the younger ones and to the attendants. I remember her lecture

Someday you will have a driver. So, always, I repeat ALWAYS, be with him on you, even if he is your age and has been working for you for ten years. “You” is an armor behind which you can hide from redneck and rudeness.

Katya's eyes took the shape of saucers. She immediately went to wash her hands.

Eh-eh, Sashka, you don’t even remember her name ... - Lidia Lvovna looked at me warmly and with some sadness.

Thank you very much... sorry, I didn't know what to do.

Don’t worry, I understand, you’re a well-mannered boy, it’s uncomfortable in front of a girl, she’s still young, she must keep up appearances and not go to other people’s apartments.

I accidentally forgot the name, honestly.

What about Xenia? - As I said, I recently broke up with my girlfriend. We met for several years and often visited, including Lidia Lvovna.

Well, to be honest, she dumped me.

It's a pity, good girl, although I understood that everything would end like this.

Why? - I loved Ksenya and the breakup was hard enough.

You see, good and even unique qualities that form the basis of your personality are not very important to her, and she is not ready to accept your shortcomings, which are the reverse side of these qualities.

To be honest, I did not understand then what she was talking about, and then for a long time I tried to change some character traits in people, not realizing that they were an inalienable dowry to the virtues that admired me.

Suddenly a look of alarm ran across Lidia Lvovna's face:

A week later Lidia Lvovna died in her sleep. Senya did not have time to call on her, because we again went somewhere for the weekend.

Two months later we went with him to Moscow. "Red Arrow", coupe, a whole adventure for two blockheads. The barman looked into our cell, and I asked for tomato juice to go with the vodka I had stockpiled in advance.

He opened it, poured a full glass and looked at Senya. He looked at my juice and cried. Well, more precisely, the tears stopped right at the edge of the eyes and were about to “break the dam”.

Senka, what happened?

Grandmother. She always asked me to buy her tomato juice.

Senya turned away because boys don't cry in front of boys. A few minutes later, when he looked at me again, it was already another Senya. Completely different. Older and older. Light, but not so bright. His face was like sand that had just been washed over by a wave. Grandma left, and he finally believed in it, as well as in the fact that no one else would ever love him like that.

Then I realized that when a loved one dies, in one second we experience pain equal to all the warmth that we received from him for countless moments of life nearby.

Some cosmic scales are leveling out. Both God and physicists are calm.