Unnecessary pattern

      

Sometimes life turns black.

The day seems like night, my heart is sad and empty.

But life is the most wonderful gift.

And even in the darkest night there is an asterisk,

to light our way…

Rebellious Spirit (Rebelde way) (2002)

                    Vlad: Hi… I know I’m the last person you want to hear right now.… I just really miss you. Very strongly. And I can’t stop thinking about you. I just realized… I’m just texting you to make sure you’re okay. I’m not. It’s very hard for me without you. I’m happy when I look at your smile. It makes you beautiful. very strongly. You’re great. I’m always here if you need me. You remember that, right? yes?       I was looking at the screen of my phone and couldn’t decide to send this message to Dima. It was so sad at heart, lying in a hospital bed. It’s been a little more than a couple of days since my father beat me up.       My brother called me an ambulance, because he couldn’t cope. Then he told me: “I’m sorry. I can’t handle it. It’s worth calling an ambulance.”       But I protested. Begged me not to do it. After all, everyone will guess that it was my father who beat me. But he told me that he would take me outside. And he will say that I was attacked.       They believed us.       I was saved. And I’m on an IV right now. My parents came to see me a couple of times. But I really want to see Dima. Cry into his shoulder. Tell everything. To talk. At least just to see. Even if he gets angry.       

***

      I was looking at the phone screen. Vlad was typing a message. But at the moment he stopped. Wants to apologize? Or ask to come? What does he want?       I’ve been sitting in my room for a few days now. Didn’t go to school. I was remembering the guy’s angry messages. How he hates me for not walking with him. I didn’t go into homeroom. Who was bursting with messages. Sickening. Vlad never wrote there anyway. But maybe?       The finger moved up and down the screen. I went to the Whatsapp. Five hundred and fifty-one messages. Fifty-two… Fifty three. Four.       I clicked on it. Everyone said that Vlad was not at school. We discussed it. They shared their opinions. They were at a loss. But here, on the five hundred and fifty-seventh, Ksyusha wrote:       So he’s in the hospital. He was attacked.       There was no limit to my shock.       Dima: Do you know which one?       Ksyuna: Like at 11. But this is not accurate. He just wrote me this.       Since when has Vlad been communicating with Ksenia? Has she become his replacement for me? Well yes. Far too far. Not surprised.       Dima: I’m going to him.       Alina: I don’t see the point.       I ignored the message and, running out of the room, quickly began to get dressed. There was no father. He’s at the neighbor’s.       Running out of the room. I typed the eleventh hospital into the search engine. Forty-one minutes.       

***

      I was lying on the bed, hypnotizing the phone. Re-reading what I wrote over and over again. “no. I’m not sending this. He’s obviously mad at me.” By lightly pressing the “Delete” button, I erased the message.       When I put the phone on the bedside table, on a small piece of paper on which I had already written the second letter to Dima, the doctor came into the room. He was wearing a white coat as usual, and fatigue could be read in the tense shoulders, which were slightly higher than when he came in the morning. He came up to me and said:       — Daytime sleep time. I’ll give you a sleeping pill to help you fall asleep. Ok?        — Yes, thanks, doc, — I tried to smile, but it turned out to be crooked.       He injected a syringe of sleeping pills into the IV and after a few minutes I fell asleep.       

***

      — Hello. Which ward is Shevchuk Vladislav Viktorovich in? — I didn’t manage to even out my breathing. And so the phrase sounded abrupt and sharp.        — In the twenty-third. Down the corridor and to the left.       — Thank you, — the girl handed me a white coat, asking me to put it on. I agreed.       Running is heard through the lonely hospital corridors, painted white. Rare people make way for me. And so I turn left and collide with someone. We fall to the floor and cry out softly. The voice of this man seems familiar to me.       — You generally look where you are rushing, — this is Ilya.       — Sorry. I’m in a big hurry. I get to my feet and give him my hand. He hits it and gets up himself.       — What are you doing here?       — I came to Vlad.       — Is he in the hospital?       — Yes, — it made me angry that he didn’t know about it. Half of the parallel is trumpeting about it. And he doesn’t know?! — What are you here about.       — I was visiting a friend. — he said, and was about to pass, when I caught his hand, stopping him. Anger sparked in my heart.       — Aren’t you ashamed?       — Why should I be ashamed?       — You beat him! I exclaimed.       — You don’t know the whole situation. Let go,” he pulled his hand away and walked calmly to the exit. I wanted to stop him, but I didn’t. Go to hell.       I ran down the corridor further. The white coat was developing. Twentieth, twenty-first, twenty-second, twenty-third. I wanted to open the door and shout that I missed you very much. But I was stopped by a doctor walking quietly down the corridor.       — He just fell asleep.       — But… can I at least.       — If only not for a long time, — he cut me off in mid-sentence. And quietly opened the door. — Just please. Quietly.       — Good. Thank you.       I went into a well-lit room. All with the same white walls. There was a bed in it against the wall. And Vlad was lying on it. He was completely covered with a blanket, only his head was peeking out. I came a little closer. He sat down next to me. He put his hand under the blanket at pelvic level. His hand was lying there. I pulled it out and put it between my own. I saw those bruises and bruises. Tears rolled to my eyes. Quite imperceptibly.       — Vladik. Can I cry a little? he didn’t say anything. The middle finger on his hand twitched. I couldn’t stand it and began to cry quietly. Pain squeezed my chest, not letting me breathe. — I’m sorry. I’m sorry, for God’s sake. — Vlad was silent. I understood that he was asleep and could not say anything, but I wanted so much to feel his usual warmth, which always made my soul feel light and joyful. I looked at his bruises and wounds. It made it even worse.       I looked at the bedside table. There was a phone with a piece of paper on it. It was an A4-sized sheet, neatly folded in two rows, with something written on the top side. I stretched out my hand, but stopped in a moment. Maybe it’s not for me at all. You can’t read someone else’s. You can’t, can you? How interesting.       — Can I read this? I asked Vlad. And he was still lying on his back, breathing softly. Without waiting for his answer, I approached the sheet. It read: “Dima”       Did he write me a letter? I looked at Vlad. Interest flared up even more than before. Removing the phone from the sheet. I carefully unfolded the paper. And began to read.              Hello, Dim.       If you’re reading this, then you decided to visit me after all. Because I’m going to destroy this “Letter” as soon as I get out of here.       It is difficult to write this, because I understand that I am to blame for that situation. It probably sounds like I’m being selfish to you. I’m sorry about that incident. It’s really hard for me without you. But you probably hate me a lot. I’m a really bad friend.       I’m tired. I’m tired without you. It was so easy and fun with you. And I lost it without thinking. I’m sorry. Sorry. I’m a very bad friend. Sorry. I didn’t want to do it, but anger boiled up in me. I couldn’t help myself. And he got what he deserved. Sorry. I didn’t want you to get burned by these feelings. And that’s why I didn’t find anything better at that moment. Sorry.       I would like to return everything that was between us. Those wonderful days when you walked with me, when you discussed girls. I really want to talk to you.       I’ll only ask you one thing. Be careful with Artem. He’s not exactly an honest man. And so please be careful. I just don’t want you to get burned badly, as happened with many of your “friends”.       With love, Vlad.              At the end of the letter, my tears intensified. He wants to talk too.              The sky was still falling on me, only it was so warm from that call. He remembers me and worries about me. Now I realize that I’m falling in love more and more. I didn’t feel like sleeping.       I got up from the bench and walked down the street. Millions of thoughts were spinning in my head again, not allowing me to concentrate. I took out my headphones and put them on. My favorite tune, “Lovely” by Billy Ailish, started playing. This song accompanied me for a very long time, becoming the standard of the best song for walking through the streets at night. I didn’t say I was a good boy. I often had to run away from home. Especially when Maxim called me. Now it seems to me rather stupid and stupid, but then… incredibly romantic and important. A light breeze ran down my spine, causing goosebumps. Lonely lanterns illuminated the street well. I was on it alone. It seemed like magic to me. Like a huge metropolis, in which life is always bustling, it froze for several hours. How all this traffic on the street, even in a residential area, subsides. Not a single cry of a child or a dog barking is inaudible. Everyone is asleep. And even through the music, I felt this emptiness of the streets and the immense silence that enveloped the whole of Moscow.       A rare passerby would not pay attention to this, if only, like me, he did not walk in his memories.       There were no longer these reproachful exclamations of reason about their insignificance. There was no little boy. There were no problems that were loaded on my shoulders a few years ago. There were no tears, only a pleasant silence of feelings, sometimes playing a long-forgotten romance on the strings of the soul. Just me. It was just me and no one else. No shouting, no noise, no arguments. Loneliness has finally come. The very loneliness I’ve been wanting for the last two years. All the fibers of the soul, silver or crystal, located perpendicular to the body, as if piercing — they sang along with the melody with their tone. How warm it is…       I don’t know how long it will last, but one thing I could say for sure: HE saved me from being scattered like ashes in the wind that was walking on the twenty-fifth floor. HE saved me from the violin and from hardening with boiling water. HE removed the lock from a huge dam that is about to collapse. HE resisted the flow that would have carried anyone, and caught when this rush wanted to carry me away. Thank you for saving me, for helping me, and now I’m here.