On that day, my husband and I went to the Vagankovsky cemetery. I stood near the burial ruffin nifionta, when he heard him: "Lad-aa!". The rest, as in a slow filtle: Here I turn around and see a woman who is deposited on her husband, I break off the place and run to them ...
- Lyudmila Markovna. Pretty! Why are you alone? What's wrong with you?
By that time, only the lazy did not write that parents and grandson actresses were buried on the Vagankovsky cemetery - Favorite Marik.
"Are you?" Gurchenko hardly focused on me. It seemed to me that her crying eyes at all at that moment could not see anyone.
The cemetery is a place where people become bad, so no one paid attention to us.
- I can not, I can not, I can not ... I can no longer. Why are they there, and I'm here ...
Husband Greb in his arms to the well-known actress, she somehow crossed in his big and strong hands, buried in the chest. Little, fragile, broken by grief Woman looked like a child: the back of her shook in sobs, she said something, her husband stroked her on his head. So, they wrapped up to the exit, they froze in my memory with a foot. Forever and ever! Woman adopted to a man and his big hand embracing her ...
- Bring me. You are welcome…
- I'm not passing for the steering wheel.
Took the keys to the car, opened.
- I myself.
- This is you in the movies: myself, herself. And now, let you bring you to the house.
- Will you get with me? - asked when drove up to the house.
I nodded.
- Can I kiss him? - The question was addressed to me. - Good uncle!
- Good - I agree
- Do you love?
- I love ...
She cried again ...
Something happened ... But what? I am not accustomed to ask tactless questions, but to believe what they wrote in the newspapers - for yourself more ...
- I'll go down ... and you still, please.
After some time, looked into the bedroom. The actress fell asleep, curled down with a glomer.
I sat in the kitchen and no longer remember what kind of cigarette smoked when I heard:
- Watch again, hell!
So, if hello, then everything is fine, octoped.
- Will you have tea?
- Valya ... give me a cigarette then.
- You do not smoke, Lyudmila Markovna.
Look at how the actress smokes was very funny.
- Let's go for a walk?
On the clock there were two nights ... I nodded.
... in an hour they returned to the apartment.
- Let's get the seagull if you drink. I would atheel something ...
I feel notes in my voice changed.
- Lyudmila Markovna! - I strained.
- Wait, hold on…
And as in the pool with head:
- I will never forgive yourself that I did not fulfill the last request of the Pope. Tell me, well, I pretended to talk to Edik ... Well, what would be the loss? No, b ..., the actress is the Great. You see it is tired, she only came from shooting. Twenty-eight years, as it is not, but I still can not forget his last words. "Well, mustache, okay, sorry, forgive me, daughter." Today came, they are all there, I am ... here ... Lord, well, I hurt.
She did not even cry, but bored. So much despair was in her appearance. It would be better to grow out in Babya, in a voice ... it would not be so scary. Look at her was above my strength. Calm in such a state is meaningless.
... I rushed across the kitchen, trying to simultaneously put the kettle, cover on the table. It seems that even something broke. She did not react to anything. Sat, squeezing and whined. How little abandoned with all puppies. What I did not know. Salvation came by itself. Let it be. The opposite sat down, took her hands to their own:
Cute, cute, calm down. You ourselves said so many times that dad always loved you with a full parade, always worried when you were upset. He sees everything from there: and your tears first. It hurts him for you.
I also spoke something about dad, mom, Marika. And did not even pay attention to the fact that for the first time called the actress simply by name.
- And what should I do now?
- Live, remember, love, work.
We sat each other opposite each other, drank tea, and each of us thought about something.
"Call your uncle, maybe he will come," I suddenly heard.
Where is her uncle, I thought, picking up the husband's number.
- Will come?
- In ten minutes
- I'll go to the face. Yes ... hell, - and through the pause - I love you. Know that!
- I am too ...
After some time, a huge bouquet of white chrysanthemums poured into the apartment. For the improvised late dinner or early breakfast, Gurchenko seemed already and forgot about what was not crying so long ago. I was glad to this. She began to tell about the new material, the eyes of the slate, the cheeks were picked. Roils, thank God.
- Exactly will come to the performance? - This is to her husband ... - You promised ...
He did not restrain his promises - so life ordered. The disease can not always be defeated.