Голубые ступени / Stepping into the blue. Михаил Садовский

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      – Бауманский закончил, – похвалился Филиппыч.

      – Это что же такое?

      – Инженером был!

      – Инженер – заведует кладбищем!

      – Гелт, – просто ответил Филиппыч.

      – Ты что, разве а ид? – удивилась старуха.

      – Я нормальный. Что, одни евреи умные?! – обиделся Филиппыч. – Неужели всё помните?

      Старуха долго не отвечала, так что водитель уже стал беспокоиться и оглянулся назад через плечо.

      – Я такое помню, что лучше забыть, – тихо сказала она. – Раньше за это сажали. Теперь всё равно не напечатают. Зачем ему трепать нервы? Пусть это уйдёт со мной. Он же не виноват, что я его бабка…

      – Знаете что? Я вас довезу до дома. Куда вы в такую темень и с такими ногами…

      – Нет, – возразила старуха. – Я должна сама домой вернуться. Так надо. Мне надо и Ему…

      Филиппыч не понял, кому «ему», но уточнять не стал. Он высадил её на остановке, помог забраться в троллейбус и ещё долго стоял, переваривая произошедшее с ним и завидуя неизвестному внуку. У него-то не было стариков – одни лежали в земле далеко на западе, другие далеко на востоке, и никто не мог даже сказать ему, где их могилы.

      Ninety

      [Devianosto]

      Ninety is ninety. The number all by itself may always have an empty ring about it, but when your grandmother is ninety and she calls you «little boy» and you’re forty, well, that’s something to think about. Just think of how much is wrapped up in that one little number!

      «So, maybe you won’t be going to the synagogue today? Look at the weather!»

      «That’s no matter. Why should I care about the weather? At my age I can’t afford to stop going. I haven’t missed once yet, so why should I take a holiday today? Ever since it became dangerous to go to the synagogue, I haven’t missed a single time! Even when the men were afraid to go, I still went!»

      «And you weren’t afraid?»

      «What would they do to me? Somebody has to go to the synagogue. Else they could say that now nobody goes there it isn’t needed any more. Something about that you don’t understand?»

      «Grandma, what an advanced social consciousness you have. Wow! So, you asked Him not to let them close the synagogue?»

      «I’ve never asked anything. I certainly don’t have to ask Him anything.»

      «But everybody asks Him! The Russians in their churches, the Tatars in their mosques, and the Jews…»

      «No. There’s nothing that needs asking for. I tell Him what the situation is so that He’ll know the truth. And He Himself knows what to do.»

      «And how do you plan to get yourself up those stairs?»

      «That’s no matter. Little by little. But the closer I get to Him, the better He’ll hear me. I don’t exactly shout, you know. I could even tell it all to Him right here, He’d still hear me. But I think He’s pleased that I’ve been going to the synagogue all these years.»

      «Everything’s all the same, it’s all the same.»

      «Little one, the sun too rises and sets, and people are born and die, and money comes and goes. When you get older, you’ll understand.»

      «What do you mean, Grandma? I’m already forty!»

      «It’s not that you’re forty, it’s that I’m ninety. I never have asked Him. It happened once that – a verbrennen soll alts wern… das ich hab gemeint… du verstehst, du verstehst alts – und ich hab gerechnet – das ist ein sof (I should let it all all burn up… that’s what I thought… you understand, you understand it all, and I decided then that this was the end). But He decided otherwise.»

      «Bobei, meine teure Bobei! Ich bet dir, leb noch ein hundert jahr! (Grandma, my dear Grandma! I beg you, live a hundred years more!)»

      «Oh, you’re tricky! Yeshefitcha (A real sweetikins)! You still want to be young! No, no, enough about that. I still won’t go in your car. But if you change a rouble for me and give me ten-kopeck pieces, I can give out some money to everyone as they walk out.»

      Little by little she got herself ready. She deposited the change from the rouble into a ragged little purse with a button in the middle. Another purse, a little larger and fatter, was dropped into the pocket of a long black skirt. Then she pulled on an old but still quite respectable overcoat which barely covered her skirt (though it wasn’t a dirty-looking coat like the ones most women her age wore). After checking her keys, she took out a home-made juniper walking-stick, a very nice one with a long curved handle, on which she could even support herself with one elbow, and set foot out the door.

      She had turned ninety two months ago. There was no fancy celebration. But all the neighbors somehow found out about it and came round. They rang the doorbell and offered their congratulations, even though they could have done this on the street. But still they came. She hadn’t really been close friends with them, the neighbors, but whenever she learned that someone was ill, she invariably went over and simply extended her help without even asking whether the help was required. She had done this even as a young woman. She had been living in this same spot for several decades already.

      She wasn’t afraid to ring anyone’s bell. Their husbands had all been taken away by the secret police. And where both parents had been taken, she wasn’t СКАЧАТЬ