Uninvented story (part 1)
There is a sunny May. It is joyful, light month. Boulevard covered green foliage. Boulevard of my childhood. Once here take me walking my grandmother. As time went on, and remained unchanged boulevard - a green frame, which set mirror pond.
I sat on the bench, trying to soothe painful shudder. Despite the warm weather, was shivering, my head cracked, and my mouth was so dry, that I wanted to lie down, face to dip into the pond and drink, drink. "I wonder what time is it?" Mechanically looked at my hand, and remembered that there is no clock.
People rush to work. Old woman with string bag pulled over a resisting grandson. The boy looked at me slyly and suspicious. The same age as my son. It seems only recently that I was here with him. Then the fun scurrying to duck pond, graceful black swans and closely followed the offspring. Son talked incessantly. About ducks and swans, about pedestrians and bicycles. And I showed him slowly moving in the water a flock of carp.
A lot of good memories associated with it in my boulevard. Here, while still a student, I walked to the one who became my wife. How much good if we talked to each other!
When was the last time I heard a good word? Who talked with me about my work, about what was the essence of my life? I do not remember ... no, I do not remember. I remember the only tear-stained eyes of my wife and faces my friends in that last meeting. After that I was no longer a member of the team, where I worked for five years and where I enjoyed once respected. Only at this meeting I realized that I’m not longer believed.
Institute, work, interesting ideas, new books. How far all this! Hurriedly went over in memory of all my actions over the past five years, trying to clearly understand how and why I was totally the right person.
How it all began?
It all started with a petty offense, and at lunchtime I went into "Drinking" located nearby. I drank, and immediately felt better, calmed down. A few days later I came home drunk. Dining trips to the "Drinking" became more frequent, and the money that I took for lunch, turned into a trickle of wine flowing into the glass. One or two glasses become not enough, relaxation occurred only after the third or fourth glasses. At work I became intemperate and garrulous. Often, simply I did not want to work.
Gradually I bring the money home less and less, and I often was drunk. Several times in the days when my wife were engaged in an evening college, I forgot to take my son out of kindergarten. The neighbor led his at home. In the morning I was a shame, apologized to my wife, and swore that it would not happened again. But the next day was like two peas in a pod similar to the previous one. There were only different labels on the bottles. In a drunken state I became more arrogant and rude, and in wife’s eyes more often appear tears. And increasingly, I have heard addressed to her son's question, a question which God forbid anyone to hear: "Is dad drunk again?"
Soon absence followed form work, prevention, and asseveration that it would not happened again. But after one or two weeks of abstinence drinking began again. And here it is the last bout on a business trip. As a result there is no wife, no son, no work. There is only the self-doubt and shame before all: to former friends, to neighbors, before this little boy on the boulevard and before people who hurry up somewhere, and I was no hurry up. What to do next? Thrust my hand into the pocket. The money is still there. Those money that I received for sale of watches. Slowly I went to a familiar machine.
An unshaven man of indeterminate age was in a bar’s corner, carefully got some coins. There was something familiar about his swollen face. I barely remembered that man, whom I knew from college. "The light head, a great mathematician," - said about him then. I remembered his way down an inclined plane - head of department, chief engineer, a technician. So he stands here, holding in his sweaty hand coppers.
"I guess I'm look just like he," - thought flashed. A furious wave of disgust, contempt for myself overwhelmed me, "That's enough, so no longer!" I ran outside, got on the bus and went home.
A few days later uncertain steps I went into drug treatment office. I was met a young balding doctor. He began quietly ask. The card is slowly accumulates data about how I, a healthy, strong man thirty years old paved the way here, in this office, to a diagnosis of "chronic alcoholism"...
- Well, we will treat you. How do you want: an outpatient or in hospital? - The doctor said.
In response, I muffled voice squeezed out of a phrase that repeated on the way here:
- I would like to go to hospital.
- Good. Here you have examined, on Saturday you go for the permit.
Hold myself from the usual visits to the store, eatery with a tempting title "Wine," three days I was collecting information, was going to the doctors. In the clinic a young woman, the local doctor, writing reference, said:
- Treated, necessarily being treated! Everything will be fine!
Will it? I wanted to believe it very much.
To be continued...