The story of V. G

Are you here: Note to the owner

Money for Mary

Kuzma woke up because the car on the turn blinded the windows with headlights and it became completely light in the room.
The light, swaying, felt the ceiling, went down the wall, turned to the right and disappeared. A minute later, the car also fell silent, it became dark and quiet again, and now, in complete darkness and silence, it seemed that it was some kind of secret sign.
Kuzma got up and lit a cigarette. He was sitting on a stool by the window, looking through the glass at the street and puffing on a cigarette, as if he himself was signaling to someone. While puffing, he saw in the window his tired, haggard face of recent days, which then immediately disappeared, and there was nothing but infinitely deep darkness - not a single light or sound. Kuzma thought about the snow: probably by morning he would pack up and go, go, go - like grace.
Then he lay down again next to Mary and fell asleep. He dreamed that he was driving the same car that woke him up. The headlights don't shine, and the car drives in total darkness. But then they suddenly flash and light up the house, near which the car stops. Kuzma gets out of the cab and knocks on the window.
- What do you need? they ask him from the inside.
“Money for Mary,” he replies.
The money is taken out to him, and the car goes on, again in complete darkness. But as soon as she comes across a house in which there is money, some device unknown to him works, and the headlights light up. He knocks on the window again and is asked again:
- What do you need?
- Money for Mary.
He wakes up for the second time.
Darkness. It is still night, there is still no light and no sound around, and in the midst of this darkness and silence it is hard to believe that nothing will happen, and dawn will come in due time, and morning will come.
Kuzma lies and thinks, there is no more sleep. From somewhere above, like unexpected rain, the whistling sounds of a jet plane fall and immediately subside, moving away after the plane. Silence again, but now it seems deceptive, as if something is about to happen. And this feeling of anxiety does not go away immediately.
Kuzma thinks: to go or not to go? He thought about it both yesterday and the day before yesterday, but then there was still time for reflection, and he could not decide anything definitively, now there is no more time. If you don't go in the morning, it will be too late. We must now say to ourselves: yes or no? We must, of course, go. Drive. Stop suffering. Here he has no one else to ask. In the morning he gets up and immediately goes to the bus. He closes his eyes - now you can sleep. Sleep, sleep, sleep ... Kuzma tries to cover himself with sleep, like a blanket, to go into it with his head, but nothing happens. It seems to him that he is sleeping by the fire: if you turn on one side, it is cold on the other. He sleeps and does not sleep, he again dreams of a car, but he understands that it doesn’t cost him anything to open his eyes now and finally wake up. He turns to the other side - still the night, which no night shift can tame.
Morning. Kuzma gets up and looks out the window: there is no snow, but it is overcast, it could fall at any moment. Muddy unkind dawn spills reluctantly, as if through force. Lowering its head, a dog ran in front of the windows and turned into an alley. People are not visible. A gust of wind suddenly hits the wall from the north side and immediately subsides. A minute later another blow, then another.
Kuzma goes into the kitchen and says to Maria, who is busy by the stove:
"Get me something to take with me, I'll go."
- In town? Maria is worried.
- In town.
Maria wipes her hands on her apron and sits down in front of the stove, squinting at the heat on her face.
“He won’t,” she says.
– Do you know where the envelope with the address is? Kuzma asks.
- Somewhere in the upper room, if alive. The guys are sleeping. Kuzma finds the envelope and returns to the kitchen.
- Found?
- Found.
“He won’t,” Maria repeats.
Kuzma sits down at the table and eats silently. He himself does not know, no one knows whether he will give or not. It's getting hot in the kitchen. A cat rubs against Kuzma's legs, and he pushes it away.
- Will you come back yourself? Maria asks.
He puts his plate away from him and thinks. The cat, arching its back, sharpens its claws in the corner, then again comes up to Kuzma and clings to his feet. He gets up and, after a pause, not finding what to say goodbye, goes to the door.
He dresses and hears Mary crying. It's time for him to leave - the bus leaves early. And let Mary cry, if she cannot do otherwise.
Outside the wind - everything sways, groans, rattles.
The wind blows the bus in the forehead, through the cracks in the windows penetrates inside. The bus turns sideways to the wind, and the windows immediately begin to tinkle, they are hit by leaves raised from the ground and small, like sand, invisible pebbles. Cold. It can be seen that this wind will bring with it frosts, snow, and there it is not far to winter, already the end of October.
Kuzma is sitting on the last seat by the window. There are few people on the bus, there are empty seats in front, but he does not want to get up and cross. He drew his head into his shoulders and, puffed up, looked out the window. There, outside the window, twenty kilometers in a row, the same thing: wind, wind, wind - wind in the forest, wind in the field, wind in the village.
People on the bus are silent - bad weather has made them gloomy and taciturn. If someone throws a word, then in an undertone, do not understand. I don't even want to think. Everyone sits and just grabs the backs of the front seats, when they throw up, they make themselves comfortable - everyone is busy only with what they are driving.
On the rise, Kuzma tries to distinguish between the howl of the wind and the howl of the engine, but they have merged into one thing - only the howl, and that's it. The village begins immediately after the ascent. The bus stops near the collective farm office, but there are no passengers, no one enters. Through Kuzma's window, a long empty street is visible, along which the wind rushes like a pipe.
The bus starts moving again. The driver, still a young lad, glances over his shoulder at the passengers and reaches into his pocket for a cigarette. Kuzma recollects himself gleefully: he has completely forgotten about cigarettes. A minute later, blue patchy smoke floats through the bus.
Again a village. The driver stops the bus near the cafeteria and gets up. “Break,” he says. - Who will have breakfast, let's go, otherwise we'll go and go.
Kuzma does not want to eat, and he goes out to stretch himself. Next to the dining room shop, exactly the same as they have in the village. Kuzma climbs the high porch and opens the door. Everything is the same as theirs: on one side - food, on the other - manufactured goods. At the counter, three women are chatting about something, the saleswoman, with her arms crossed over her chest, listens lazily to them. She is younger than Maria, and she seems to be doing well: she is calm.
Kuzma goes up to the hot stove and stretches out his arms over it. From here it will be visible through the window when the driver leaves the dining room, and Kuzma will have time to run. The wind slams the shutters, the saleswoman and the women turn around and look at Kuzma. He wants to go up to the saleswoman and tell her that they have exactly the same store in the village and that his Maria also stood behind the counter for a year and a half. But he doesn't move. The wind slams the shutters again, and the women again turn around and look at Kuzma.
Kuzma is well aware that the wind has risen only to-day, and that even at night, when he got up, it was calm, and yet he cannot rid himself of the feeling that the wind has been blowing for a long time, all these days.
Five days ago, a man of about forty years or a little more came, in appearance not urban or rural, in a light raincoat, in tarpaulin boots and a cap. Mary was not at home. The man ordered her not to open the store tomorrow, he came to do the accounting.
The revision began the next day. At lunchtime, when Kuzma looked into the store, it was full of hustle and bustle. Maria and the inspector pulled all the cans, boxes and packs onto the counter, counted them ten times and counted them, they brought large scales from the warehouse and piled bags of sugar, salt and cereals on them, collected butter from wrapping paper with a knife, rattled empty bottles, dragging them from one corner to another, they picked out the remains of sticky candies from the box. The inspector, with a pencil behind his ear, briskly ran between the mountains of jars and boxes, counted them aloud, almost without looking, touched the knuckles with almost all five fingers on the abacus, called some numbers and, in order to write them down, shaking his head, deftly dropped them into his hand pencil. It was evident that he knew his business well.
Maria came home late, looking exhausted.
– How are you? Kuzma asked cautiously.
- Yes, as of yet. There are still manufactured goods left for tomorrow. Tomorrow will be somehow.
She yelled at the guys who had done something, and immediately lay down. Kuzma went out into the street. Somewhere a pig carcass was being burned, and a strong, pleasant smell spread throughout the village. The suffering is over, the potatoes have been dug up, and now people are preparing for the holiday, waiting for the winter. The troublesome, hot time is left behind, the off-season has come, when you can take a walk, look around, and think. So far it’s quiet, but in a week the village will leap, people will remember all the holidays, old and new, they will go, embracing, from house to house, shout, sing, they will again remember the war and forgive each other all their insults at the table.
The inspector was silent.
- So tell me, where so many? A thousand, right?
“A thousand,” the auditor confirmed.
– New?
- Now there are no old accounts.
"But that's crazy money," Kuzma said thoughtfully. “I didn’t have that much in my hands. We took a loan on the collective farm seven hundred rubles for a house, when we put it on, and that was a lot, until today we have not paid off. And here is a thousand. I understand, you can make a mistake, thirty, forty, well, let it be a hundred rubles, but where does a thousand come from? You, you see, have been at this job for a long time, you should know how it turns out.
“I don’t know,” the auditor shook his head.
- Couldn't the Selpovskies with the texture heat it up?
- I do not know. Everything could be. I see she has little education.
- What kind of education is there - a literate! With such an education, only count the pay, and not government money. How many times I told her: don't get into your sleigh. There was just no one to work, and she was persuaded. And then everything seemed to go well.
Did she always receive the goods herself or not? the auditor asked.
- Not. Who will go, with that and ordered.
- Too bad. You can not do it this way.
- Here you go…
- And most importantly: there was no accounting for a whole year. They fell silent, and in the silence that followed, Maria could be heard still sobbing in the bedroom. Somewhere a song burst out of the open door into the street, boomed like a flying bumblebee, and died away - after it, Maria's sobs seemed loud and gurgled like stones breaking into the water.
- What will happen now? asked Kuzma, addressing it incomprehensibly to himself or to the inspector.
The auditor glanced at the guys.
- Get out of here! Kuzma yelled at them, and they scurried off in single file to their room.
"I'm going on tomorrow," the inspector began in a low voice, moving closer to Kuzma. - I will have to do accounting in two more stores. This is about five days of work. And five days later…” He hesitated. - In a word, if you deposit money during this time ... Do you understand me?
"Why don't you understand," Kuzma replied.
- I see: children, - said the auditor. - Well, they will condemn her, give her a term ...
Kuzma looked at him with a pathetic, twitching smile.
“Just understand: no one needs to know about this. I have no right to do so. I take risks myself.
- I see, I understand.
- Collect money, and we will try to hush up this matter.
"A thousand roubles," said Kuzma.
- Yes.
- I see, a thousand rubles, one thousand. We will collect. You can't judge her. I have been living with her for many years, the kids are with us.
The inspector got up.
"Thank you," said Kuzma, and, nodding, shook hands with the inspector. He left. In the yard behind him the gate creaked, footsteps sounded and died away in front of the windows.
Kuzma was left alone. He went to the kitchen, sat down in front of the stove, which had not been heated since yesterday, and, with his head down, sat for such a long, long time. He did not think about anything - he no longer had the strength for this, he froze, and only his head sank lower and lower. An hour passed, then a second, night fell.
- Dad!
Kuzma slowly raised his head. Vitka stood in front of him - barefoot, in a T-shirt.
- What do you want?
“Daddy, are we going to be all right?” Kuzma nodded. But Vitka did not leave, he needed his father to say this in words.
- But how! Kuzma answered. - We will turn the whole earth upside down, but we will not give up our mother. We are five men, we can do it.
- Can I tell the guys that everything will be all right with us?
“Say so: we’ll turn the whole earth upside down, but we won’t give up our mother.”
Vitka, believing, left.
Maria did not get up in the morning. Kuzma got up, woke up the older children for school, poured them yesterday's milk. Maria lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and did not move. She never undressed, lay in the dress in which she came from the store, her face was noticeably swollen. Before leaving, Kuzma stood over her and said:
- Step back a little, get up. Nothing, it will cost, people will help. You shouldn't die prematurely because of this.
He went to the office to warn him that he would not come to work.
The chairman was alone in his office. He got up, gave Kuzma his hand, and, looking intently at him, sighed.
- What? Kuzma didn't understand.
“I heard about Maria,” the chairman replied. “Now the whole village, I suppose, knows.
- All the same, you can’t hide it - let it be, - Kuzma waved his hand in a lost way.
- What will you do? asked the chairman.
- I do not know. I don't know where to go.
- Something must be done.
- Necessary.
“You see for yourself, I can’t give you a loan now,” said the chairman. - The reporting year is just around the corner. The reporting year will end, then we will consult, maybe we will give. Let's give - what is there! In the meantime, borrow on a loan, everything will be easier, you are not asking for an empty place.
- Thank you.
I need your "thank you"! How is Maria?
- Badly.
- You go tell her.
- Need to say. - At the door Kuzma remembered: - I'm not going to work today.
- Go, go. What kind of worker are you now! Found something to talk about!
Maria was still lying. Kuzma sat down beside her on the bed and squeezed her shoulder, but she did not respond, did not flinch, as if she had not felt anything.
- The chairman says that after the reporting meeting he will give a loan, - said Kuzma.
She stirred slightly and froze again.
– Do you hear? - he asked.
Something suddenly happened to Maria: she jumped up, threw her arms around Kuzma's neck and threw him onto the bed.
- Kuzma! she whispered breathlessly. - Kuzma, save me, do something, Kuzma!
He tried to break free, but he couldn't. She fell on him, squeezed his neck, covered his face with her face.
- My dear! she whispered furiously. - Save me, Kuzma, don't give me to them!
He finally broke free.
“Stupid woman,” he croaked. – Are you out of your mind?
- Kuzma! she called weakly.
- What are you thinking of? There will be a loan, everything will be fine, but you are like a fool.
- Kuzma!
- Well?
- Kuzma! Her voice got weaker and weaker.
- Here am I.
He kicked off his boots and lay down next to her. Maria was trembling, her shoulders twitching and bouncing. He put his arm around her and ran his broad hand over her shoulder, back and forth, back and forth. She pressed closer to him. He kept driving and running his hand over her shoulder until she calmed down. He lay still next to her, then got up. She slept.
Kuzma thought: you can sell a cow and hay, but then the kids will be left without milk.
There was nothing more to sell from the farm. The cow must also be left for the last time, when there is no way out. It means that you don’t have a penny of your own money, everything will have to be borrowed. He did not know how to borrow a thousand rubles, this amount seemed to him so huge that he kept confusing it with old money, and then he caught himself and, growing cold, cut himself off. He admitted that such money exists, as there are millions and billions, but the fact that they can be related to one person, and even more so to him, seemed to Kuzma some kind of terrible mistake, which - if he just started looking for money - it would no longer be possible. to correct. And he did not move for a long time - it seemed that he was waiting for a miracle when someone would come and say that they had played a trick on him and that the whole story with the shortage did not concern him or Mary. How many people were around him, whom she really did not touch!
It’s good that the driver drove the bus to the station itself and Kuzma didn’t have to get to it in the wind, which, as soon as it began to blow from the house, did not stop. Here, at the station, sheet iron rattles on the roofs, paper and cigarette butts are sweeping down the street, and people mince in such a way that it is not clear whether they are carried by the wind, or they still cope with it and run where they need to, on their own. The voice of the announcer announcing the arrival and departure of trains is torn to pieces, crumpled, and it is impossible to make out. The whistles of shunting locomotives, the shrill whistles of electric locomotives seem alarming, like signals of danger that must be expected any minute.
An hour before the train, Kuzma gets in line for tickets. The cash register hasn't been opened yet, and people are standing suspiciously watching everyone who comes forward. The minute hand on the round electric clock above the cash register window jumps from division to division with a ringing sound, and every time people lift their heads and suffer.
Finally, the box office is opened. The queue shrinks and freezes. The first head pokes its way through the cashier's window; two, three, four minutes pass, and the queue does not move.
- What is there - they are traded, or what? someone shouts from behind.
The head crawls back out, and the woman who was first in line turns around: “It turns out there are no tickets.
- Citizens, there are no tickets for general and reserved seat cars! the cashier screams.
The queue crumples, but does not diverge.
“They don’t know how to lure out money,” the fat woman, with a red face and in a red scarf, is indignant. - We made soft wagons - who needs them? What a plane, and then all the tickets in it are equally worth.
- In airplanes and fly, - the cashier replies without malice.
- And let's fly! - Aunt boils. - Here again, throw out two such tricks, and not a single person will come to you. You have no conscience.
- Fly to your health - do not cry!
- You will cry, my dear, you will cry when you are left without work.
Kuzma moves away from the cash register. Now it's five hours before the next train, no less. Or maybe still take it soft? Damn him! It is still unknown whether there will be simple seats on that train or not - maybe some soft ones too? You'll wait in vain. “When you take off your head, you don’t cry for your hair,” Kuzma recalls for some reason. In fact, an extra five will not do the weather now. A thousand is needed - why cry now for five.
Kuzma returns to the checkout. The line has parted, and in front of the cashier lies an open book.
“I have to go to the city,” Kuzma tells her.
“Tickets only for a soft car,” the cashier seems to be reading, without looking up from her book.
- Let's go somewhere.
She marks what she read with a ruler, pulls out a ticket from somewhere on the side and puts it under the composter.
Now Kuzma listens when his train is called. The train will come, he will sit in a soft car and with all the amenities will reach the city. In the morning there will be a city. He will go to his brother and take from him the money that is not enough to a thousand. Probably, the brother will remove them from the book. Before leaving, they will sit down, drink a bottle of vodka in parting, and then Kuzma will go back in order to be in time for the inspector's return. And everything will go right with her and Maria again, they will live like all people. When this trouble ends and Maria leaves, they will continue to raise the children, go to the cinema with them - after all, their own collective farm: five men and a mother. All of them still live and live. In the evenings, going to bed, he, Kuzma, will, as before, flirt with Maria, spank her in a soft place, and she will swear, but not evil, pretend, because she herself loves when he fools around. Do they need a lot to be good? Kuzma comes to his senses. A lot, oh a lot - a thousand rubles. But now it’s not a thousand, more than half of a thousand, he got it with a sin in half. He walked around humiliated himself, made promises where necessary and not necessary, reminded him of a loan, fearing that they would not give him, and then, ashamed, he took pieces of paper that burned his hands and which were still not enough.
To the first, he, like, probably, any other in the village, went to Evgeny Nikolaevich.
“Ah, Kuzma,” Evgeny Nikolaevich met him, opening the door. - Come in, come in. Have a seat. And I already thought that you were angry with me - do not come in.
“Why should I be angry with you, Yevgeny Nikolaevich?
- I do not know. Not everyone talks about resentment. Yes, you sit down. How is life?
- Nothing.
- Well, well, take care. Moved to a new house and all is well?
Yes, we have been in a new house for a year. Why brag now?
- I do not know. You don't come in, you don't tell.
Yevgeny Nikolaevich removed the open books from the table, without closing them, transferred them to the shelf. He is younger than Kuzma, but everyone in the village calls him, even the old people, because for fifteen years now he has been the headmaster of a school, first a seven-year-old, then an eight-year-old. Yevgeny Nikolaevich was born and raised here and, having graduated from the institute, he did not forget the peasant business: he mows, carpenters, keeps a large farm, when he has time, goes hunting and fishing with the peasants. Kuzma immediately went to Yevgeny Nikolaevich because he knew he had money. He lives alone with his wife - she is also his teacher - they have a good salary, but there is especially nowhere to spend it, everything is their own - and a garden, and milk, and meat.
Seeing that Yevgeny Nikolaevich was collecting books, Kuzma got up.
Maybe I'm out of time?
- Sit, sit, it's not the right time! Yevgeny Nikolaevich held him back. - There is time. When we are not at work, we have our own time, not official. So, we should spend it as we please, right?
- As if.
Why "as if"? Speak the truth. There is time. Here you can put tea.
"We don't need tea," Kuzma refused. - I do not want. Drinking recently.
- Well look. They say that a well-fed guest is easier to regale. Truth?
- Truth.
Kuzma shifted in his chair and made up his mind:
“I, Evgeny Nikolaevich, came to you here one by one on business.
- On business? - Evgeny Nikolaevich, alert, sat down at the table. - Well, let's talk. A matter is a matter, it must be solved. As they say, strike while the iron is hot.
"I don't know how to begin," Kuzma hesitated.
- Say Say.
- Yes, it's like this: I came to ask you for money.
- How much do you need? Yevgeny Nikolaevich yawned.
- I need a lot. How much will you give.
- Well, how many - ten, twenty, thirty?
"No," Kuzma shook his head. - I need a lot. I'll tell you why, so it's clear. The lack of my Mary turned out to be big - maybe you know?
- I know nothing.
- Yesterday they finished the audit - and now they presented it, that means.
Yevgeny Nikolayevich drummed on the table with his knuckles.
“What a nuisance,” he said.
- BUT?
- Trouble, I say, what. How did she do it?
- That's it.
They fell silent. I could hear an alarm clock ticking somewhere; Kuzma looked for him with his eyes, but did not find him. The alarm clock rang, almost choking. Yevgeny Nikolaevich again drummed on the table with his fingers. Kuzma glanced at him—he winced slightly.
“They can judge,” said Evgeny Nikolaevich.
- That's why I'm looking for money, so that they don't judge.
They can still judge. A waste is a waste.
- No, they can't. She didn't take it from there, I know.
– What are you telling me? Evgeny Nikolaevich was offended. - I'm not a judge. You tell them. I say this to the fact that you need to be careful: otherwise you will deposit money, and they will be judged.
- Not. Kuzma suddenly felt that he himself was afraid of this, and said more to himself than to him. - Now they look, so that it is not in vain. We did not use this money, we do not need it. After all, she has this shortage because she is semi-literate, and not somehow.
“They don’t understand this,” Yevgeny Nikolaevich waved his hand.
Kuzma remembered the loan and, not having time to calm down, said plaintively and pleadingly, so that he felt disgusted himself:
“I’m borrowing from you for a while, Evgeny Nikolaevich. For two, three months. The chairman promised me a loan after the reporting meeting.
- And now he doesn't?
- It's not possible now. We still hadn't paid for the old one when we put up the house. And so he goes towards, the other would not agree.
Again the rapid chime of the alarm clock burst out from somewhere, rattling loudly and anxiously, but Kuzma did not find it this time either. The alarm clock could have been either behind a window curtain or on a bookshelf, but the sound seemed to be coming from somewhere above. Kuzma could not stand it and looked at the ceiling, and then scolded himself for his stupidity.
- Have you visited anyone yet? Evgeny Nikolaevich asked.
No, you first.
- What to do - you have to give! - Evgeny Nikolaevich said suddenly inspired. - If you do not give, you will say: here Evgeny Nikolayevich regretted not giving it. And people will be happy.
“Why should I talk about you, Yevgeny Nikolaevich?
- I do not know. I'm not talking about you, of course, - in general. Every people. Only I have money in the passbook in the area. I specifically keep them away so as not to pull them out for nothing. You have to go there. There is no time right now. He winced again. - I'll have to go. The thing is. I have a hundred there and there - I'll take it off. That's right: we should help each other.
Kuzma, suddenly suddenly exhausted, was silent.
“That’s why we and people are to be together,” said Evgeny Nikolaevich. “They talk all sorts of things about me in the village, but I have never refused help to anyone. They often come to me: either five, or give ten. Another time I give the last. True, I like to be returned, for a great life you are also reluctant to work.
"I'll give it back," said Kuzma.

Money for Mary summary

From the story Money for Maria by Valentin Rasputin, we learn about Mary, who is in a difficult situation. The woman, due to her inexperience in trading, made a big mistake, which was revealed by the auditor. Thus, a shortage of about a thousand rubles was found in the village store. This is a huge amount for which a woman can go to jail. It was necessary to urgently do something and the auditor gives a small chance. If the shortage is returned within five days, no one will start a criminal case. Here the husband of Maria Kuzma took up the issue of finding money, especially since the chairman promises to issue a loan, so there will be something to repay debts.

But who will take it? And how to ask for money Kuzma also had no idea. In the village, although they heard about the trouble, no one was in a hurry to lend money, helping Maria out. Meanwhile, the woman herself at one time happily made concessions, lending goods, and even agreed to work in the store, although she had no experience.

Kuzma leads all his thoughts on the current situation on the train on which he went to his brother to ask him for money. Just on the road, he remembered everything. I remembered that the first person I went to ask was the director of the school. He gave a hundred rubles. Grandfather Gordey also helped, bringing 15 rubles. The neighbors returned the debt to the store about five rubles. Volunteered to help and the chairman, who gave the salary of specialists. Vasily's old mother gave away the money she had collected for the funeral. But then many came back to take the money, believing that they would not save Maria. As a result, only half of the required amount is on hand. So Kuzma went for help to his brother, who lived in the city.

On the train, our hero met different people who looked like villagers to many people. There, on the road, Kuzma had a dream in which he sees that it is enough for the villagers to allocate five rubles from the family budget to help, but everyone believes that they need more money than Maria. And then the train stopped, Kuzma went to his brother and knocked on the door. This is where Rasputin's story ends.

Brief analysis of the work

Analyzing the work Money for Mary, we see such issues as the relationship between people. The author showed how cruel people can be who turn a blind eye to the problems of others. What happened to people? Why do they turn away from someone else's grief, from a person who agreed to work in a store for them? True, there were also caring people among the residents who are ready to give their last penny to help. But more turned out to be those who turned their backs on Mary. Only one hope remained, and this is Kuzma's brother, whom he had not seen for a very long time.

What is the peculiarity of the story? The fact that Rasputin uses such a technique as understatement of the plot, so we cannot know how exactly his work will end. Will all the money be found within five days, will the brother open the door, will Maria go to jail? Will the heroes be completely disappointed in people, or will the villagers bring money to help the woman?

Current page: 1 (total book has 6 pages) [accessible reading passage: 2 pages]

Valentin Rasputin
Money for Mary

Kuzma woke up because the car on the turn blinded the windows with headlights and it became completely light in the room.

The light, swaying, felt the ceiling, went down the wall, turned to the right and disappeared. A minute later, the car also fell silent, it became dark and quiet again, and now, in complete darkness and silence, it seemed that it was some kind of secret sign.

Kuzma got up and lit a cigarette. He was sitting on a stool by the window, looking through the glass at the street and puffing on a cigarette, as if he himself was signaling to someone. While puffing, he saw in the window his tired, haggard face of recent days, which then immediately disappeared, and there was nothing but infinitely deep darkness - not a single light or sound. Kuzma thought about the snow: probably by morning he would pack up and go, go, go - like grace.

Then he lay down again next to Mary and fell asleep. He dreamed that he was driving the same car that woke him up. The headlights don't shine, and the car drives in total darkness. But then they suddenly flash and light up the house, near which the car stops. Kuzma gets out of the cab and knocks on the window.

- What do you need? they ask him from the inside.

“Money for Mary,” he replies.

The money is taken out to him, and the car goes on, again in complete darkness. But as soon as she comes across a house in which there is money, some device unknown to him works, and the headlights light up. He knocks on the window again and is asked again:

- What do you need?

- Money for Mary.

He wakes up for the second time.

Darkness. It is still night, there is still no light and no sound around, and in the midst of this darkness and silence it is hard to believe that nothing will happen, and dawn will come in due time, and morning will come.

Kuzma lies and thinks, there is no more sleep. From somewhere above, like unexpected rain, the whistling sounds of a jet plane fall and immediately subside, moving away after the plane. Silence again, but now it seems deceptive, as if something is about to happen. And this feeling of anxiety does not go away immediately.

Kuzma thinks: to go or not to go? He thought about it both yesterday and the day before yesterday, but then there was still time for reflection, and he could not decide anything definitively, now there is no more time. If you don't go in the morning, it will be too late. We must now say to ourselves: yes or no? We must, of course, go. Drive. Stop suffering. Here he has no one else to ask. In the morning he gets up and immediately goes to the bus. He closes his eyes - now you can sleep. Sleep, sleep, sleep ... Kuzma tries to cover himself with sleep, like a blanket, to go into it with his head, but nothing happens. He seems to be sleeping by the fire; turn on one side, it's cold on the other. He sleeps and does not sleep, he again dreams of a car, but he understands that it doesn’t cost him anything to open his eyes now and finally wake up. He turns to the other side - still the night, which no night shift can tame.

Morning. Kuzma gets up and looks out the window: there is no snow, but it is overcast, it could fall at any moment. Muddy unkind dawn spills reluctantly, as if through force. Lowering its head, a dog ran in front of the windows and turned into an alley. People are not visible. A gust of wind suddenly hits the wall from the north side and immediately subsides. A minute later another blow, then another.

Kuzma goes into the kitchen and says to Maria, who is busy by the stove:

"Get me something to take with me, I'll go."

- In town? Maria is worried.

- In town.

Maria wipes her hands on her apron and sits down in front of the stove, squinting at the heat on her face.

“He won’t,” she says.

– Do you know where the envelope with the address is? Kuzma asks.

- Somewhere in the upper room, if alive.

The guys are sleeping. Kuzma finds the envelope and returns to the kitchen.

“He won’t,” Maria repeats.

Kuzma sits down at the table and eats silently. He himself does not know, no one knows whether he will give or not. It's getting hot in the kitchen. A cat rubs against Kuzma's legs, and he pushes it away.

- Will you come back yourself? Maria asks.

He puts his plate away from him and thinks. The cat, arching its back, sharpens its claws in the corner, then again comes up to Kuzma and clings to his feet. He gets up and, after a pause, not finding what to say goodbye, goes to the door.

He dresses and hears Mary crying. It's time for him to leave - the bus leaves early. And let Mary cry, if she cannot do otherwise.

Outside the wind - everything sways, groans, rattles.

The wind blows the bus in the forehead, through the cracks in the windows penetrates inside. The bus turns sideways to the wind, and the windows immediately begin to tinkle, they are hit by leaves raised from the ground and small, like sand, invisible pebbles. Cold. It can be seen that this wind will bring with it frosts, snow, and there it is not far to winter, already the end of October.

Kuzma is sitting on the last seat by the window. There are few people on the bus, there are empty seats in front, but he does not want to get up and cross. He drew his head into his shoulders and, puffed up, looked out the window. There, outside the window, twenty kilometers in a row, the same thing: wind, wind, wind - wind in the forest, wind in the field, wind in the village.

People on the bus are silent - bad weather has made them gloomy and taciturn. If someone throws a word, then in an undertone, do not understand. I don't even want to think. Everyone sits and just grabs the backs of the front seats, when they throw up, they make themselves comfortable - everyone is busy only with what they are driving.

On the rise, Kuzma tries to distinguish between the howl of the wind and the howl of the engine, but they have merged into one thing - only the howl, and that's it. The village begins immediately after the ascent. The bus stops near the collective farm office, but there are no passengers, no one enters. Through Kuzma's window, a long empty street is visible, along which the wind rushes like a pipe.

The bus starts moving again. The driver, still a young lad, glances over his shoulder at the passengers and reaches into his pocket for a cigarette. Kuzma recollects himself gleefully: he has completely forgotten about cigarettes. A minute later, blue patchy smoke floats through the bus.

Again a village. The driver stops the bus near the cafeteria and gets up.

“Break,” he says. - Who will have breakfast, let's go, otherwise we'll go and go.

Kuzma does not want to eat, and he goes out to stretch himself. Next to the dining room shop, exactly the same as they have in the village. Kuzma climbs the high porch and opens the door. Everything is the same as theirs: on one side - food, on the other - manufactured goods. At the counter, three women are chatting about something, the saleswoman, with her arms crossed over her chest, listens lazily to them. She is younger than Maria, and she seems to be doing well: she is calm.

Kuzma goes up to the hot stove and stretches out his arms over it. From here it will be visible through the window when the driver leaves the dining room, and Kuzma will have time to run. The wind slams the shutters, the saleswoman and the women turn around and look at Kuzma. He wants to go up to the saleswoman and tell her that they have exactly the same store in the village and that his Maria also stood behind the counter for a year and a half. But he doesn't move. The wind slams the shutters again, and the women again turn around and look at Kuzma.

Kuzma is well aware that the wind has risen only to-day, and that even at night, when he got up, it was calm, and yet he cannot rid himself of the feeling that the wind has been blowing for a long time, all these days.

Five days ago, a man of about forty years or a little more came, in appearance not urban or rural, in a light raincoat, in tarpaulin boots and a cap. Mary was not at home. The man ordered her not to open the store tomorrow, he came to do the accounting.

The revision began the next day. At lunchtime, when Kuzma looked into the store, it was full of hustle and bustle. Maria and the inspector pulled all the cans, boxes and packs onto the counter, counted them ten times and counted them, they brought large scales from the warehouse and piled bags of sugar, salt and cereals on them, collected butter from wrapping paper with a knife, rattled empty bottles, dragging them from one corner to another, they picked out the remains of sticky candies from the box. The inspector, with a pencil behind his ear, briskly ran between the mountains of jars and boxes, counted them aloud, almost without looking, touched the knuckles with almost all five fingers on the abacus, called some numbers and, in order to write them down, shaking his head, deftly dropped them into his hand pencil. It was evident that he knew his business well.

Maria came home late, looking exhausted.

– How are you? Kuzma asked cautiously.

- Yes, as of yet. There are still manufactured goods left for tomorrow. Tomorrow will be somehow.

She yelled at the guys who had done something, and immediately lay down. Kuzma went out into the street. Somewhere a pig carcass was being burned, and a strong, pleasant smell spread throughout the village. The suffering is over, the potatoes have been dug up, and now people are preparing for the holiday, waiting for the winter. The troublesome, hot time is left behind, the off-season has come, when you can take a walk, look around, and think. So far it’s quiet, but in a week the village will leap, people will remember all the holidays, old and new, they will go, embracing, from house to house, shout, sing, they will again remember the war and forgive each other all their insults at the table.

Kuzma returned home, told the children not to sit for a long time, and lay down. Maria was asleep, not even her breathing was heard. Kuzma dozed off, but the guys in his room screamed, and he had to get up and calm them down. It became quiet. Then dogs barked at someone in the street and immediately fell silent.

In the morning, when Kuzma woke up, Maria was gone. He had breakfast and went to the second brigade for the whole day - the chairman had asked him the day before to see what they had there with the vegetable store and what materials were needed for repairs. Behind these affairs, Kuzma completely forgot about the audit, and only when he approached the house did he remember. Vitka, the eldest of the guys, was sitting on the porch, he saw his father and ran into the house. "What's wrong with him?" Kuzma thought with an unkind foreboding and hurried off.

He was expected. Maria sat at the table, her eyes were tearful. The inspector, sitting down on a stool near the door, greeted Kuzma in confusion and guilt. The children, all four, lined up near the Russian stove in strict order - one head lower than the other. Kuzma understood everything. Without asking anything, he took off his dirty boots and walked barefoot into the room for slippers. They weren't there. He returned, looked at the door, did not find it and asked the guys:

Did you see my slippers?

Maria, unable to stand it, began to cry and ran into the room. Kuzma, without any surprise, followed her with a frozen look and shouted at the guys:

- Will my slippers be found today or not?

He watched how they, not looking up from each other, as if bound, poked into corners, climbed under beds, minced in a chain from room to room, and more and more lost, not knowing what to do, what to say.

Slippers finally found. Kuzma put his bare feet into them and went to Maria. She covered her face with her hands, lay on the bed and sobbed. He turned her face towards him and asked:

- How?

- You are a thousand.

- What is new?

Maria didn't answer. Turning her back to the wall, she again covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Looking at how her body was twitching, Kuzma for a moment suddenly lost touch with what was happening - it was so unexpected and scary. Then he woke up, as in a dream, went out to the auditor and motioned for him to sit down at the table. The auditor obediently moved. Kuzma took out a cigarette and lit it in a hurry. First he had to come to his senses. He smoked, taking puffs as often as if he was drinking water. In the children's room a voice suddenly broke from the radio until it screamed, and Kuzma shuddered.

- Take him away!

The children broke away from the stove, without changing the order in which they stood, slapped one after another into the room, and the voice fell silent. When Kuzma raised his head, they were already standing by the stove again, ready to carry out any of his orders. The anger gradually cooled down, and Kuzma felt sorry for them. They are not to blame for anything. He told the auditor:

- I will be with you as if in spirit - we did not drag a single grain from there. I specifically say this in front of the guys, I won’t lie in front of them. You see for yourself, we don't live well, but we don't need someone else's.

The inspector was silent.

- So tell me, where so many? A thousand, right?

“A thousand,” the auditor confirmed.

– New?

- Now there are no old accounts.

"But that's crazy money," Kuzma said thoughtfully. “I didn’t have that much in my hands. We took a loan on the collective farm seven hundred rubles for a house, when we put it on, and that was a lot, until today we have not paid off. And here is a thousand. I understand, you can make a mistake, thirty, forty, well, let it be a hundred rubles, but where does a thousand come from? You, you see, have been at this job for a long time, you should know how it turns out.

“I don’t know,” the auditor shook his head.

- Couldn't the Selpovskies with the texture heat it up?

- I do not know. Everything could be. I see she has little education.

- What kind of education is there - a literate! With such an education, only count the pay, and not government money. How many times I told her: don't get into your sleigh. There was just no one to work, and she was persuaded. And then everything seemed to go well.

Did she always receive the goods herself or not? the auditor asked.

- Not. Who will go, with that and ordered.

- Too bad. You can not do it this way.

- Here you go…

- And most importantly: there was no accounting for a whole year.

They fell silent, and in the silence that followed, Maria could be heard still sobbing in the bedroom. Somewhere a song burst out of the open door into the street, boomed like a flying bumblebee, and died away - after it, Maria's sobs seemed loud and gurgled like stones breaking into the water.

- What will happen now? asked Kuzma, addressing it incomprehensibly to himself or to the inspector.

The auditor glanced at the guys.

- Get out of here! Kuzma yelled at them, and they scurried off in single file to their room.

"I'm going on tomorrow," the inspector began in a low voice, moving closer to Kuzma. - I will have to do accounting in two more stores. This is about five days of work. And five days later…” He hesitated. - In a word, if you deposit money during this time ... Do you understand me?

"Why don't you understand," Kuzma replied.

- I see: children, - said the auditor. - Well, they will condemn her, give her a term ...

Kuzma looked at him with a pathetic, twitching smile.

“Just understand: no one needs to know about this. I have no right to do so. I take risks myself.

- I see, I understand.

- Collect money, and we will try to hush up this matter.

"A thousand roubles," said Kuzma.

- I see, a thousand rubles, one thousand. We will collect. You can't judge her. I have been living with her for many years, the kids are with us.

The inspector got up.

"Thank you," said Kuzma, and, nodding, shook hands with the inspector. He left. In the yard behind him the gate creaked, footsteps sounded and died away in front of the windows.

Kuzma was left alone. He went to the kitchen, sat down in front of the stove, which had not been heated since yesterday, and, with his head down, sat for such a long, long time. He did not think about anything - he no longer had the strength for this, he froze, and only his head sank lower and lower. An hour passed, then a second, night fell.

Kuzma slowly raised his head. Vitka stood in front of him - barefoot, in a T-shirt.

- What do you want?

“Daddy, are we going to be all right?”

Kuzma nodded. But Vitka did not leave, he needed his father to say this in words.

- But how! Kuzma answered. - We will turn the whole earth upside down, but we will not give up our mother. We are five men, we can do it.

- Can I tell the guys that everything will be all right with us?

“Say so: we’ll turn the whole earth upside down, but we won’t give up our mother.”

Vitka, believing, left.

Maria did not get up in the morning. Kuzma got up, woke up the older children for school, poured them yesterday's milk. Maria lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and did not move. She never undressed, lay in the dress in which she came from the store, her face was noticeably swollen. Before leaving, Kuzma stood over her and said:

- Step back a little, get up. Nothing, it will cost, people will help. You shouldn't die prematurely because of this.

He went to the office to warn him that he would not come to work.

The chairman was alone in his office. He got up, gave Kuzma his hand, and, looking intently at him, sighed.

- What? Kuzma didn't understand.

“I heard about Maria,” the chairman replied. “Now the whole village, I suppose, knows.

- All the same, you can’t hide it - let it be, - Kuzma waved his hand in a lost way.

- What will you do? asked the chairman.

- I do not know. I don't know where to go.

- Something must be done.

“You see for yourself, I can’t give you a loan now,” said the chairman. - The reporting year is just around the corner. The reporting year will end, then we will consult, maybe we will give. Let's give - what is there! In the meantime, borrow on a loan, everything will be easier, you are not asking for an empty place.

- Thank you.

I need your "thank you"! How is Maria?

- You go tell her.

- Need to say. - At the door Kuzma remembered: - I'm not going to work today.

- Go, go. What kind of worker are you now! Found something to talk about!

Maria was still lying. Kuzma sat down beside her on the bed and squeezed her shoulder, but she did not respond, did not flinch, as if she had not felt anything.

- The chairman says that after the reporting meeting he will give a loan, - said Kuzma.

She stirred slightly and froze again.

– Do you hear? - he asked.

Something suddenly happened to Maria: she jumped up, threw her arms around Kuzma's neck and threw him onto the bed.

- Kuzma! she whispered breathlessly. - Kuzma, save me, do something, Kuzma!

He tried to break free, but he couldn't. She fell on him, squeezed his neck, covered his face with her face.

- My dear! she whispered furiously. - Save me, Kuzma, don't give me to them!

He finally broke free.

“Stupid woman,” he croaked. – Are you out of your mind?

- Kuzma! she called weakly.

- What are you thinking of? There will be a loan, everything will be fine, but you are like a fool.

- Kuzma!

- Here am I.

He kicked off his boots and lay down next to her. Maria was trembling, her shoulders twitching and bouncing. He put his arm around her and ran his broad hand over her shoulder, back and forth, back and forth. She pressed closer to him. He kept driving and running his hand over her shoulder until she calmed down. He lay still next to her, then got up. She slept.

Kuzma thought: you can sell a cow and hay, but then the kids will be left without milk.

There was nothing more to sell from the farm. The cow must also be left for the last time, when there is no way out. It means that you don’t have a penny of your own money, everything will have to be borrowed. He did not know how to borrow a thousand rubles, this amount seemed to him so huge that he kept confusing it with old money, and then he caught himself and, growing cold, cut himself off. He admitted that such money exists, as there are millions and billions, but the fact that they can be related to one person, and even more so to him, seemed to Kuzma some kind of terrible mistake, which - if he just started looking for money - it would no longer be possible. to correct. And he did not move for a long time - it seemed that he was waiting for a miracle when someone would come and say that they had played a trick on him and that the whole story with the shortage did not concern him or Mary. How many people were around him, whom she really did not touch!

It’s good that the driver drove the bus to the station itself and Kuzma didn’t have to get to it in the wind, which, as soon as it began to blow from the house, did not stop. Here, at the station, sheet iron rattles on the roofs, paper and cigarette butts are sweeping down the street, and people mince in such a way that it is not clear whether they are carried by the wind, or they still cope with it and run where they need to, on their own. The voice of the announcer announcing the arrival and departure of trains is torn to pieces, crumpled, and it is impossible to make out. The whistles of shunting locomotives, the shrill whistles of electric locomotives seem alarming, like signals of danger that must be expected any minute.

An hour before the train, Kuzma gets in line for tickets. The cash register hasn't been opened yet, and people are standing suspiciously watching everyone who comes forward. The minute hand on the round electric clock above the cash register window jumps from division to division with a ringing sound, and every time people lift their heads and suffer.

Finally, the box office is opened. The queue shrinks and freezes. The first head pokes its way through the cashier's window; two, three, four minutes pass, and the queue does not move.

- What is there - they are traded, or what? someone shouts from behind.

The head crawls back out, and the woman who was first in line turns around.

It turns out there are no tickets.

- Citizens, there are no tickets for general and reserved seat cars! the cashier screams.

The queue crumples, but does not diverge.

“They don’t know how to lure out money,” the fat woman, with a red face and in a red scarf, is indignant. - We made soft wagons - who needs them? What a plane, and then all the tickets in it are equally worth.

- In airplanes and fly, - the cashier replies without malice.

- And let's fly! - Aunt boils. - Here again, throw out two such tricks, and not a single person will come to you. You have no conscience.

- Fly to your health - do not cry!

- You will cry, my dear, you will cry when you are left without work.

Kuzma moves away from the cash register. Now it's five hours before the next train, no less. Or maybe still take it soft? Damn him! It is still unknown whether there will be simple seats on that train or not - maybe some soft ones too? You'll wait in vain. “When you take off your head, you don’t cry for your hair,” Kuzma recalls for some reason. In fact, an extra five will not do the weather now. A thousand is needed - why cry now for five.

Kuzma returns to the checkout. The line has parted, and in front of the cashier lies an open book.

“I have to go to the city,” Kuzma tells her.

“Tickets only for a soft car,” the cashier seems to be reading, without looking up from her book.

- Let's go somewhere.

She marks what she read with a ruler, pulls out a ticket from somewhere on the side and puts it under the composter.

Now Kuzma listens when his train is called. The train will come, he will sit in a soft car and with all the amenities will reach the city. In the morning there will be a city. He will go to his brother and take from him the money that is not enough to a thousand. Probably, the brother will remove them from the book. Before leaving, they will sit down, drink a bottle of vodka in parting, and then Kuzma will go back in order to be in time for the inspector's return. And everything will go right with her and Maria again, they will live like all people. When this trouble ends and Maria leaves, they will continue to raise the children, go to the cinema with them - after all, their own collective farm: five men and a mother. All of them still live and live. In the evenings, going to bed, he, Kuzma, will, as before, flirt with Maria, spank her in a soft place, and she will swear, but not evil, pretend, because she herself loves when he fools around. Do they need a lot to be good? Kuzma comes to his senses. A lot, oh a lot - a thousand rubles. But now it’s not a thousand, more than half of a thousand, he got it with a sin in half. He walked around humiliated himself, made promises where necessary and not necessary, reminded him of a loan, fearing that they would not give him, and then, ashamed, he took pieces of paper that burned his hands and which were still not enough.

To the first, he, like, probably, any other in the village, went to Evgeny Nikolaevich.

“Ah, Kuzma,” Evgeny Nikolaevich met him, opening the door. - Come in, come in. Have a seat. And I already thought that you were angry with me - do not come in.

“Why should I be angry with you, Yevgeny Nikolaevich?

- I do not know. Not everyone talks about resentment. Yes, you sit down. How is life?

- Nothing.

- Well, well, take care. Moved to a new house and all is well?

Yes, we have been in a new house for a year. Why brag now?

- I do not know. You don't come in, you don't tell.

Yevgeny Nikolaevich removed the open books from the table, without closing them, transferred them to the shelf. He is younger than Kuzma, but everyone in the village calls him, even the old people, because for fifteen years now he has been the headmaster of a school, first a seven-year-old, then an eight-year-old. Yevgeny Nikolaevich was born and raised here and, having graduated from the institute, he did not forget the peasant business: he mows, carpenters, keeps a large farm, when he has time, goes hunting and fishing with the peasants. Kuzma immediately went to Yevgeny Nikolaevich because he knew he had money. He lives alone with his wife - she is also his teacher - they have a good salary, but there is especially nowhere to spend it, all their own - and a garden, and milk, and meat.

Seeing that Yevgeny Nikolaevich was collecting books, Kuzma got up.

Maybe I'm out of time?

- Sit, sit, it's not the right time! Yevgeny Nikolaevich held him back. - There is time. When we are not at work, we have our own time, not official. So, we should spend it as we please, right?

- As if.

Why "as if"? Speak the truth. There is time. Here you can put tea.

"We don't need tea," Kuzma refused. - I do not want. Drinking recently.

- Well look. They say that a well-fed guest is easier to regale. Truth?

- Truth.

Kuzma shifted in his chair and made up his mind:

“I, Evgeny Nikolaevich, came to you here one by one on business.

- On business? - Evgeny Nikolaevich, alert, sat down at the table. - Well, let's talk. A matter is a matter, it must be solved. As they say, strike while the iron is hot.

"I don't know how to begin," Kuzma hesitated.

- Say Say.

- Yes, it's like this: I came to ask you for money.

- How much do you need? Yevgeny Nikolaevich yawned.

- I need a lot. How much will you give.

- Well, how many - ten, twenty, thirty?

"No," Kuzma shook his head. - I need a lot. I'll tell you why, so it's clear. The lack of my Mary turned out to be big - maybe you know?

- I know nothing.

- Yesterday they finished the audit - and now they presented it, that means.

Yevgeny Nikolayevich drummed on the table with his knuckles.

“What a nuisance,” he said.

- Trouble, I say, what. How did she do it?

- That's it.

They fell silent. I could hear an alarm clock ticking somewhere; Kuzma looked for him with his eyes, but did not find him. The alarm clock rang, almost choking. Yevgeny Nikolaevich again drummed on the table with his fingers. Kuzma glanced at him—he winced slightly.

“They can judge,” said Evgeny Nikolaevich.

- That's why I'm looking for money, so that they don't judge.

They can still judge. A waste is a waste.

- No, they can't. She didn't take it from there, I know.

– What are you telling me? Evgeny Nikolaevich was offended. - I'm not a judge. You tell them. I say this to the fact that you need to be careful: otherwise you will deposit money, and they will be judged.

- Not. Kuzma suddenly felt that he himself was afraid of this, and said more to himself than to him. - Now they look, so that it is not in vain. We did not use this money, we do not need it. After all, she has this shortage because she is semi-literate, and not somehow.

“They don’t understand this,” Yevgeny Nikolaevich waved his hand.

Kuzma remembered the loan and, not having time to calm down, said plaintively and pleadingly, so that he felt disgusted himself:

“I’m borrowing from you for a while, Evgeny Nikolaevich. For two, three months. The chairman promised me a loan after the reporting meeting.

- And now he doesn't?

- It's not possible now. We still hadn't paid for the old one when we put up the house. And so he goes towards, the other would not agree.

Again the rapid chime of the alarm clock burst out from somewhere, rattling loudly and anxiously, but Kuzma did not find it this time either. The alarm clock could have been either behind a window curtain or on a bookshelf, but the sound seemed to be coming from somewhere above. Kuzma could not stand it and looked at the ceiling, and then scolded himself for his stupidity.

- Have you visited anyone yet? Evgeny Nikolaevich asked.

No, you first.

- What to do - you have to give! - Evgeny Nikolaevich said suddenly inspired. - If you do not give, you will say: here Evgeny Nikolayevich regretted not giving it. And people will be happy.

“Why should I talk about you, Yevgeny Nikolaevich?

- I do not know. I'm not talking about you, of course, - in general. Every people. Only I have money in the passbook in the area. I specifically keep them away so as not to pull them out for nothing. You have to go there. There is no time right now. He winced again. - I'll have to go. The thing is. I have a hundred there and there - I'll take it off. That's right: we should help each other.

Kuzma, suddenly suddenly exhausted, was silent.

“That’s why we and people are to be together,” said Evgeny Nikolaevich. “They talk all sorts of things about me in the village, but I have never refused help to anyone. They often come to me: either five, or give ten. Another time I give the last. True, I like to be returned, for a great life you are also reluctant to work.

"I'll give it back," said Kuzma.

- Yes, I'm not talking about you, I know that you will give. Generally speaking. You have a conscience, I know. And some don't - that's how they live. Yes, you know what to say! Every people.

Yevgeny Nikolaevich kept talking and talking, and Kuzma's head ached. He is tired. When he finally went out into the street, the last fog that had lasted until dinner had dissipated, and the sun was shining. The air was transparent and brittle - as always in the last fine days of late autumn. The forest outside the village seemed close, and it did not stand as a solid wall, but was divided into trees, already bare and brightened.

Kuzma felt better in the air. He walked, and it was pleasant for him to walk, but somewhere inside, like an abscess, the pain still itched. He knew it was for a long time.

Maria still got up, but Komarikha was sitting at the table next to her. Kuzma immediately understood what was the matter.

- You already ran. He was ready to throw Komarikha out the door. - I heard it. Like a crow on carrion.

“I didn’t come to you, and you don’t drive me away,” Komarikha chattered. - I've come to Mary, on business.

“I know what you came for.

- For what it is necessary, for this I came.

- Exactly.

Maria, who had been sitting motionless, turned around.

- You, Kuzma, do not interfere in our affairs. If you don't like it, go to another room or somewhere else. Don't be afraid, Komarikha, let's move on.

- I'm not afraid. - Komarikha took out cards from somewhere from under her skirt, squinting at Kuzma, and began to lay them out. - Go, I'm not stealing - what should I be afraid of. And if you pay attention to everyone, there will not be enough nerves.

“Now she’s going to bewitch you!” Kuzma smiled.

- And as the cards show, I’ll say so, I won’t lie.

- Where is there - lay out the whole truth!

Maria turned her head, said with hidden pain:

- Go away, Kuzma!

Kuzma restrained himself, fell silent. He went to the kitchen, but even here they could hear Komarikha spitting on her fingers, forcing Maria to draw three cards from the deck, muttering:

- And the state house to you, girl, thank the Lord, did not fall out. I won't lie, but no. Here it is, the map. There will be a long road for you - here it is, the road, and diamonds interest.

- Yeah, the order in Moscow will be called to receive, - Kuzma could not stand it.

“And you will have troubles, big troubles – not small ones. Here they are. You need up to three times. – Apparently, Komarikha has collected cards. - Take it off, girl. No, wait, you can't shoot. It is necessary that there was a stranger who does not tell fortunes. Do you have kids at home?

- Oh, trouble!

“Let’s take a picture,” Maria said.

- No, you can’t, another card will do. Hey Kuzma! Komarikha sang affectionately. Come join us here for a minute. Don't be angry with us sinners. You have your faith, we have ours. Take off our hat from the deck, my friend.

- Bite you! - Kuzma came up and pushed the cards from above.

Soviet time. The beginning of monetary reform. A big shortage is revealed during an audit in one store. The saleswoman can be imprisoned. Her husband turns to his fellow villagers for help.

Late at night, Kuzma goes to his brother, but does not believe that he will be able to borrow money. Relatives have long become strangers to each other. During the trip, the man remembers how it all began.

A few days ago, a man came to the village to inspect the store where Maria was the saleswoman. No audit was carried out during the year. In order to save the girl and the mother of four children from punishment, in the form of a criminal term, the auditor proposes to pay the missing thousand rubles while other stores are being checked. Such a huge amount, the couple needs to find within five days.

Many felt sorry for the family. The chairman promised to issue a loan, but only at the end of the year. This did not give Mary much hope. The girl remained upset, and her husband tried his best to support her. They had no money and nothing to sell. Kuzma remembers his rich brother and buys a train ticket. While waiting for his train, the man recalls with grief how he humiliated himself and asked people for money. First, he approached a wealthy school principal who kept his money in the bank. He agreed to borrow a small amount, saying that everyone should help each other.

A cold wind blows on the pyron. A man understands that everything is interconnected. Neighbor, during the trip, Kuzmina is Gennady Ivanovich, director of the radio station. He treats the villagers with contempt, believing that they have more privileges than city people. The man does not want to listen to such a conversation, but he patiently waits for the second neighbor to transfer the topic to a more decent one. Men begin to play preference, but Kuzma does not know the rules of this game. He changes places with the man from the other car.

The ill-fated store was considered cursed. Many workers were short. The last saleswoman, and at all, was planted. Maria began to replace the pregnant woman. The family lived hard. The last child was born very weak. My wife was constantly sick, she was forbidden to do hard work. Everything went well at first. The girl, because of her good disposition, gave food on loans, and trusted strangers to purchase goods. This brought her down. She believed that her husband would help her, but after listening to the conversations of her neighbors, she lost hope.

Kuzma's new neighbors were an adult couple and a drunken young man. The man falls asleep, but even in a dream he sees how he collects money for his wife.

The family had money, but it was never enough. The memories started again.

One night, Kuzmin and a friend named Vasily decided to go to the stingy Stepanida. She was a drinker and the men decided to give her a drink in order to fertilize. Everything turned out to be pointless. She remained just as mean. The man's friend was divorced a long time ago. He was prejudiced against the female sex and believed that his fellow traveler was cheating on his wife. Kuzma admits that he committed such an offense once, after which Maria wanted to leave him. He managed to talk her out of staying. This did not happen again.

The train was approaching the city. The whole village tried to help the unfortunate family. Many, at the request of the chairman, refused a monthly salary. A sleepy man will be a guy. Going out into the vestibule, he complains about his life. He was abandoned by a girl, taking a small child. Kuzma assumes that she has found another, to which the young man is angry.

A man is offered not to collect money, but simply to make his woman pregnant again.

Finally Kuzma arrives. He gets off the train and realizes that the wind has died down, it means to be kind. Having found his brother's house, the man presses the bell.