Unbearable silence

      The grand reception at the home of a Catholic family in Calcutta was in full swing. Important oil workers, financiers and entrepreneurs milled around the luxurious hall, idly talking about their partners and competitors. Cigarette smoke billowed upward. That was a perfect way to spread rumors and gossip.       Among the tall men and women there ran a boy who had no use for such a serious evening. The strict tailcoat only got in his way; the child kept pulling back the collar so as not to choke him. And in front there were only someone's shoes and expensive skirts. A concerned old lady ran up to him:       "Marcus, let's go before you do anything wrong!" She wailed, lifting him into her arms.       “But Mrs. Jones…” He whined.       "Come on... Now we'll find your mother, she'll give you some candies."       The boy rode tiredly on her back, looking at the shiny faces.       "Mrs. Almeida," Mary was out of breath, "Mrs. Almeida!"       Disturbed, Susan barely raised an eyebrow in the direction of the nanny. She didn't want to be distracted from the business conversation.       "Your son is very tired. Take him, please." She begged, holding out the child.       “Okay,” Susan answered lazily, burdenedly hanging Marcus around her neck.       When Mrs. Jones disappeared, Susan put the boy down, grimacing. Marcus tugged at her dress for a while, but then she pushed him away. The boy was again left to his own devices. For a while he ran among the waiters, then among the tables, until he climbed under the tablecloth. Finding himself in something like a house, he felt more or less comfortable. Exactly until some legs stuck out towards him. Without thinking twice, Marcus tied the laces on his shoes, giggling for a long time at his action, waiting for the fat gentleman to get up from his seat. He finally got up and, before collapsing, let out a loud “oh.” Giggling, Marcus covered his mouth. Only then was there heard the rumble of breaking dishes and the thunder of rolling copper plates. The people gasped. Another old man whined. Marcus's heart began to beat faster in fear. He looked out from under the tablecloth, and then he came out all over. That one trailed behind him for a long time, while the boy looked at the huge lying barbel, the waiter under him, the fragments of glasses and plates, the tray rolling right at his mother’s feet. Marcus ducked his head when he saw her eyes.       "What's going on?" The father threw out, who, out of habit, kept his hands in his vest pockets. His stern voice boomed through the living room. "Who did it?!"       The guests looked with pity at the child biting his lips. Marcus guiltily twisted the sleeves of his jacket, pressing himself into it. The father was really angry.       "Marcus, how do we understand this?" - He roared. "What have you done?"       The child looked at him in confusion, not answering anything.       "I'm talking to you! Who will be responsible for this mess?! It was you who invited the guests and arranged a reception?! How dare you ruin it?! Mrs. Jones!"       A worried Mrs. Jones ran into the hall.       "What happened, sir?" Hobbling, she ran to the boy across the hall.       "I want to ask you what happened. You were entrusted with a child, but you couldn’t keep track of him!"       "But I gave the boy to the mistress!" She justified herself, putting her hands to her chest.       "And why did he break out? It is your responsibility to look after him. Apparently, you can't cope with it."       "Sorry, sir Nicholas..."       "How can you raise your child like this!" Mrs. Seth howled. "He's a real ignoramus! What pranks!"       "Susan!" Nicholas exclaimed. "Take the boy to his room immediately!"       "Let's go, Marcus." Susan threw a menacing look at her husband. ***        "Mrs. Jones, please, don't give me away..." The boy whined while Mary was prepearing his tie.       "No, dear Mark." The old woman said, almost crying. "It’s necessary. You'll become an educated, intelligent boy. You will be loved and respected in society."       "I don't want to be respected. I want to stay with mom."       "I want you to be patient, my dear. Everything will be fine. Don't be a bully, please. Be obedient..."       Adjusting her jacket on her shoulder, she turned away, hiding the tears that rolled down her face. Susan watched her sternly, arching an eyebrow.       "Mom..." The boy extended his arms to her. Susan rolled her eyes and hugged him, stroking the top of his head.       "Everything will be fine, Marcus. Be a gentleman."       "Okay..." It didn't seem that he had understood the meaning of this word, but he was ready to please his mother.       "Let's go, Marcus. Uncle Sam is waiting for you."       "No, I don’t want to!" He burst into tears, squeezing his mother. Susan, as if embarrassed by her son, began to tear him away from her.       "Don't do it, Marcus, go downstairs."       "No, mom!"       "Marcus!" She screamed, pushing him away. "Don't be a girl! Are you a man or not?!"       He stared at her in disbelief with his big eyes. Susan slapped him across the face.       "What are you doing, Mrs. Almeida!" Mary moaned pitifully, running up to the child. She wrapped him in a sari.       "You should have raised him earlier, Mrs. Jones." She folded her hands on the chest, "Now it’s too late to think about his well-being."       "But I was always with him, Mrs. Almeida!"       "And your presence had a bad effect on Marcus. The educational institution will educate him much better than you."       Mary shook her head in disbelief. Her tone became harsher:       "Maybe I don’t have aristocratic blood, I don’t have an English education. But I never abandoned your son, as you did at the first opportunity. I hasten to remind you that I did not get a job as a governess in your house! I was hired to clean and cook for Marskus. But you did not appreciate my kindness, no matter how hard I tried to save your son from loneliness."       Susan winced in disgust, turning her head away.       "The child needs a mother." Mary said temperamental, "And not the best tutors of the world. When you remember him, he will answer you very cruelly for all those years that you did not want to spend with him."       "Enough with the moralizing, Mrs. Jones! Enough. Take the boy downstairs!"       "Let's go, Marcus.“ Mary, without raising her eyes, took the boy’s hand. Susan raised her chin and left the room without looking back.       Sitting in the car, Marcus looked hopefully at Mrs. Jones while his things were loaded.       "Don't worry, my boy. Everything will work out. Just behave well and study hard. OK?"       Mrs. Jones could no longer hold back her tears. Marcus nodded bravely, crying.       "That’s it, no need. Otherwise mom will swear." Mary wiped his eyes with her thumb.       "Are you leaving us, Mrs. Jones?"       Mary thought about it. Now there was really nothing holding her back.       "What should I do, my boy? I will be bored without you, I will return to my home. But as soon as you arrive,” she assured, “I will return immediately.”       "Do you promise, Mrs. Jones?"       "I promise, my dear."       Loading has been completed. Afraid of doing something wrong, Marcus simply waved at Mrs. Jones, who waved back.       And so ended her days at the Almeida mansion. The long days at the boarding school seemed like an eternity to Marcus.