Rhythm of rebellion

Simran was awakened by muffled sounds coming from the other side of the door; they were loud enough to reach the sleeping girl and too annoying to eventually force her up. Looking at the ceiling with an indifferent view, Simran held her hands folded on her chest, which is unusual for her because she has been sick of superstition since childhood, that in such a position only dead people are allowed to be. The fear of prejudice seemed to worry her less today than usual - in fact, she didn’t even notice how uncharacteristically she was killing time. The smooth ceiling is painted with simple drawings: trees and nightingales sitting on long branches, and two of them were flying close. It is interesting that at different times of the year the painting sent a certain mood - in autumn it is melancholy. Whether the feet of Simran were frozen, or whether the window she left open at night let more cold into the room than needed. And yet, looking at the ceiling, the girl became more and more gloomy. - Yesterday was not a dream? - she whispered in her mouth and somehow, involuntarily, reached out to the painted nightingales as if she really wanted to catch them. The bedroom was really chilled in the morning. The snow-white stalk, badly hidden behind the dark curtains that had brought Mrs Moss to her dowry, shivered lazily at the slightest breather. Outside the sun had already risen, but it did not break into the window frame of Simran’s room, and the dawn was reported by the noise of cars, the voice of the TV and periodic responses to Annette, who desperately began to knock on the bedroom door. - We’re going to be late for the service! Hurry up, young lady. - I get up already, Kiwi replied reluctantly and sat down on the edge of the bed, her bare feet hanging to the floor. The alarm clock did not ring, the black and white dial showed that it was less than fifteen-eight. After the water treatments, she brushed her hair, put on a long skirt with a trapeze and a warm knitted vest over her nightgown. When Simran went out to the front, Annette Moss, throwing her affairs aside, grabbed her by the cheeks and kissed her on the forehead. - You haven’t caught a cold? So pale! Kiwi remembered the rain yesterday, which she was not lucky to fall under. - Hardly. - Not awake yet, then. Take Marly and get in the car, I’ll take Charlie. The twins, sitting peacefully on the sofa in pretty blue suits, watched the elders with curious eyes. Charlie drooled, and Marley carefully picked them up with his big pen. - Enough of your babbling, 'cause you’re not moles,' said Simran to the learned face. She picked up Marley and waited for her mother to come out of the house. Sow in the car, the family went to church. - Daughter, - Benjamin’s husky voice came out of the driver’s seat, and the girl had to get out of the thoughts she was so often immersed in. - Collect your hair. This remark, which appeared to her as a nettle bite, caused something in her that made her ashamed. Either she got up on the wrong foot or was really sick, but her thoughts were not listened to at all, the concentration was disturbed and there was no desire to go to church. First. Simran grabbed her chest and massaged it clockwise, as if this procedure could fix anything. The child in her lap was cranky, and while his mother tried to distract him, the stunned brunette looked at the changing pictures behind the windows. On both sides as if they are the same and completely different. Yesterday’s eventful day felt like a dream for one reason - there was too much expediency in it. First of all, it may be late, but Kiwi realized how rude she had been to Mason, who was just trying to please her. Secondly, his words about the protests, to Simran’s great sorrow, were not without meaning. They did not achieve anything except arrest and scandal. She was just lucky to get away from the cops. -Simran, - again addressed to the girl Mr Moss, but more strictly, - hair. - Yes, Dad. Brunette picked up the untied strands into a neat bundle and looked at her father. He no longer dropped the sound. Sunday service began at half past nine in the morning and lasted, as Simran seemed, unhappily delayed. If she used to read prayers with awe and pray for the health of her family, today she has had no desire to fulfill these duties. She hardly raised her head and did not even baptize after each «amen». When the service is finally over, Annette with Charlie in her arms and Simran with another baby in her arms go out into the courtyard of the temple, waiting for Mr. He exchanged formalities with his old friend, who had recently moved to Brooklyn from San Francisco with his family. - Are you better, Kiwi? - Mrs Moss put a cap on Charlie’s head and took her eyes to the corner where her husband was. Benjamin had a habit of coming to church only in his officer suit. He used to take off his hat during prayer and not put it on until the service was over. - I think so. - You haven’t been yourself since yesterday. Did something happen? - I’m scared, Simran admitted. -I don’t get you, Kiwi. - I don’t want to change, Mother. I don’t want my beliefs to change and my efforts to be unsuccessful. Do you understand me now? - her eyes glazed, as if she were going to cry at any moment. With despair, she breathed and pressed the baby Marley’s heart. The babies always gave her peace, as if she was holding an angel in her arms. - Well, Simran... this is what any of us are facing. I’ll pray for you before you go to bed. Kiwi wanted to talk about it, but she remembered in time and closed the subject, not seeing the point of perpetuating her, because the mother made clear that she did not find anything special in the problem. Sometimes it is better to deal with the dilemmas alone, someone else’s help can be harmful. Simran decided it for herself firmly and before she ended the internal conflict, Mr Moss, smiling solemnly, approached the family. - We’re going to have breakfast with my school friend. He was kind enough to invite us over. - On the way, you have to stop at the bakery for dessert for tea, Annette cheered, to which Benjamin nodded his head with approval, concealing his coat under a police cap. - That’s right. It is not customary to visit empty-handed. You know, he turned to Simran and talked with great heat, - he has a son a year older than you. What a good job! He passed the entrance exams and entered Harvard, studying to be a lawyer. He has a brilliant career ahead of him. - Great match for our Kiwi,' Annette pinched that pale cheek, and Simran painfully stalled. - It’s too early for me to think about it, she said. - Remember what I told you? Don’t forget your mother’s teachings. They will always be useful in life. Benjamin chuckled, slapped the twins in the forehead and headed for his car. Simran felt that her life had long been marked by someone else’s hand. *** The captured sabotarians were waiting for a three-week punishment and a strict reprimand. There was no exception. Simran breathed a big sigh, knowing that her participation in the protest remained a secret for everyone. Monday was typical: a total of seven lessons and one additional lesson, which Simran went to with great pleasure, gave the day a dynamic. She only rushed to chat with her friends for a few minutes, then ran to the locker, from there to class, then to lunch, and so on. On Monday, the additional lesson was handcraft, on Tuesday - chess club, following - cooking, drawing, music, choir. The workload did not bother Kiwi at all, she liked that the clock flew unnoticed on a case that brought benefit. Between biology and literature class, she ran into Mason Carter in the hall, who, judging by his gym bag on his shoulders, was about to swim again, and, smiling modestly, asked him to linger. - I understand that you are angry with me. I treated you cruelly. - Are you sorry? - Mason was genuinely surprised. - It looks like so. I’m sorry. I can be a pain in the ass at times. You’re under fire. -Hm, - the swimmer’s gaze passed appreciatively over her, after which he delivered a silent verdict and declared: - See you later. Simran didn’t know if it meant she was forgiven, but just in case. Mason was still a stickler for her, but the thought that she had been taken for superficial, as her boyfriend, the flighty one, rudely called her, hit on her ego. Simran got used to being liked by everyone and was afraid of ruining her reputation. In the evening, having taken the textbooks from her locker, the brunette came to terms with Jody and Nancy in the schoolyard. Half an hour before sunset, and the sky had already turned golden. Birds, hiding in the tops of tall trees, kept chirping and singing songs. The school buses were little by little filled with children. The clock on one of the pillars stopped for some reason, and now the master was working on it. Their breath was weak. - I don’t envy you,' I fooled Jodi with bubble gum, listening to Simran’s tale of adventures. 'But I’m glad you got away in time. Things are bad with the police. - Your father is an officer himself. You should not be afraid,' said Nancy with a slight reproach. The girls, not counting Simran, sat on the stone steps of a wide staircase. - My father would never abuse his authority. And more than that, he would punish me severely. Maybe even beat me. -Well, that’s a tyrant. -No, he’s good,' said Simran in his father’s defense, but he’s probably pretty decent. - Decent people, honey, don’t beat their kids. - They don’t hit anyone... without much need, added Jody with a laugh - at least I think so. - My father never beat me - trying to correct the foreign opinion firmly set in the direction of Mr Moss, weakly squealed Kiwi - is not the point... - Hey, Simran - raised Nancy’s head as she pulled her eyes out of the cab. The second appeared behind him, and the two of them walked with confidence straight into the schoolyard. Jody also turned her gaze through the friend and, with a surprised squeal, pulled Kiwi by the hem of the dress into green peas. Finally, Simran turned around. She glanced distractedly at the open courtyard, covered with scorched leaves, which drew the gardener closer to the fence, but her attention was immediately attached to a tall young man dressed in a corduroy reddish jacket and straight jeans. Simran recognized him before he got close enough to talk. Roscoe kept his cool. He hid his hands in the pockets of an open jacket over a black turtleneck. The posture was slightly slouchy, but the shoulders looked even, straight. On the side he resembled a mannequin, except that he was alive. His appearance, the manners were contrary to the view of the inhabitants. The students froze in the background of Jack, slipped away, finally, frankly speaking, they looked completely disjointed. Even Simran was willing to agree that Rockfreeis far from ugly. He is one of those people who are commonly called charismatic and charming. A magic combo that acted immediately. Meanwhile, Jack, knowing exactly where to go, did not look away from the astonished girl, who was still standing in the same place in the same position. He was lucky to find Simran in the yard, although he was afraid of losing her and spending money on a taxi for nothing. To his luck, she is here. Benny, who first saw the «witch», stopped at the bus stop, leaned against the lamppost and started smoking. Watch and smoke. -Hey, girl, - walked up the steps to Kiwi’s sidekick, waving to all three Jacks. Nancy and Jodi have changed their look. - You? - Trying to sound as indifferent as possible to Simran. - What do you want? - I’ve come to return your money. -Ah? - laughed Kiwi nervously, doubtlessly frowning her thin eyebrows. Nancy winked at Jodi. They went down to the buses and from there were already watching the private conversation. In fact, this polite gesture was thrown to Nancy not for the sake of her friend’s privacy, but for herself - as much as she was intrigued by the blonde with a cigarette. She remembered him from the concert in «Tau-Hau». Benny is very nice. He has interesting facial features and an alluring shine in his eyes that makes you want to get burned. Nancy looked curiously at the musician dressed in a leather cloak, and he, in turn, ignored the apparent interest of others. - How much do I owe you? How much was in that wallet of yours? - started digging into Rockfree’s jeans. Simran crossed her hands on the chest. -Now I can’t remember. -Hell... that makes it harder. - May I ask? - What else? - Jack tossed the bills. - Why did you decide to give me my money back? Did you have a conscience, if you know that word? I didn’t miss the chance to slap Kiwi. The musician shrugged carelessly. - Well, let’s just say you managed to change my mind. - What do you mean? Jack looked at her with a long and eloquent look. Simran noticed that his eye color had changed to black, so his eyes seemed more piercing. Suddenly her lips shook with a smile and she laughed, patting her hands joyfully. - No way! - Shut up, - Jack didn’t like being laughed at. - What, is it? Your new string’s broken? Oh, fantastic! - Gloating and not blushing? - gasped the one, meanwhile finding the schoolgirl’s laughter charming. - I didn’t come all the way through fucking New York! -How did you know I was here? - You’re not the only one with psychic powers, you know - cut with a cold accent by Rockfree- so how much do I get? -And I don’t remember. - Strain your gyrus. - Speak politely, please. - Oh, my God! said Rockfree, already regretting having found the girl. If you look at this pair from the corner where Nancy and Jodi were, their argument looked quite amusing. The voices to the parking lot burst, and it only heated up the interest of the public. Soon Benny was tired of waiting for the comrade. He turned his eyes to the chirping of the birds and, turning away, accidentally caught a glance at Nancy, who had been keeping her eyes on him all along. Benny twitched his eyebrow intriguingly and held his cigarette deeply. Nancy winked at him and, whispering to her friend «I am now», hurried gracefully walking towards her new love object. -Here. Here’s twelve dollars and twenty-five cents, - grabbing the girl for her, unexpected, overly tender palm, Jack put money into it. Simran took them. -There was more in the wallet. - You said you don’t remember, the musician shrugged. - But I know for a fact that there was more. - Fuck you! Hold another five! - Jack gave that five dollars. - Which one of you is a bona fide con man... I’ve never met anyone like that before. -I’ll take that as a compliment. - To health, - threw the money into the inner pockets of Kiwi’s bag and, biting her lip, looked uncertainly at the lofty figure above her - you were right when talking about the police. She arrived ten minutes after you left. - I’m rarely wrong. - Because you’re a psychic? - stared at that Kiwi and smiled sincerely, but as soon as she realized it, she straightened out and rejected the strange feelings that had come upon her in that instant. Jack chuckled. - No. 'Because it’s politics,' he waved with two fingers as a sign of good-bye. With his back to her, the brunette fell down the stairs, leaving behind only a pleasant blanket. Simran took a mechanical sniff and inhaled it deeply, embracing herself with her hands. It was a thrill to her that the musician, whom she considered a scoundrel, found her and returned the stolen money. In her eyes he became good. So there, for one selfless business. And what a business! To return their stolen money - where is it seen that the criminal returns to the scene of the crime? A desperate move. With these thoughts, awkwardly holding the strap of an open handbag, Simran pursued Jack’s melancholy and disingenuous gaze at the same time that she dared to confuse all her cards. If before she knew exactly what feelings she had for him, now it became difficult for her to understand herself. She likes it, whether it irritates, causes nausea or contempt... Pity these beautiful, but how many simple-minded creatures are women: one male good deed is able to impress them, at first glance, a steel heart. Jack went down to the bus stop and looked around in surprise - Benny was missing somewhere. Then Jodie hastened to his aid, that all the time humbly waited for her friend. -And your friend has already left. - Let him... - In front of Rockfree, nodded curiously looking at his bed blonde and went his way. - Dear! Honey! - As soon as they were alone, Jo rattled and waved her limbs. She grabbed the embarrassed Simran by the hand and, bending over to her, giggled hysterically. The girls walked slowly to the transport, one of whom started the engine, thus getting the weightless child to occupy the remaining places. - What did he want with you? - He gave me my money back. - Those? No way! - the blonde slapped her on the shoulder and blushed as if she had something to do with it. - You don’t have to thank me. - You? - Kiwi stopped half way. - Yes, me. I’m the one who keeps a strong connection with Robbie, and he was definitely talking to him, otherwise how would he find you? - Jody’s words, haughtily shaking her shoulder and all the way expressing complacency. Pray, praise me for all my fatherhood. Contemplating her words, Simran, as if only realizing the obvious truth, shone. - That’s right... Should I thank Robbie? - Oh, no need - I’ll take care of it! - Yes, you like to do that, Simran mocked, and Jody was not offended; instead she nodded proudly. - Everyone should do what they do best, don’t you think? The condescension coming from a blonde woman was like flattery from persons with insincere feelings. As if the jokers were boasting to the king. Simran was grinning. - Where did Nancy go? - Suddenly she remembered her friend. - There, where did that pretty blond guy go. Still good that in our time girls can show an open interest in men. Could you make a fool of yourself and wait for the first step from the guy? While they mature, years will pass! I like to ask them out and watch their ears blush or their faces change immediately, or their voices become so warm, humble. Here you go! By the way, - suddenly turned to engaged Simran chatty and became serious. - You have to play the same thing. - What are you talking about? - About him. About the musician. My feminine instinct tells me that he didn’t just give you your money back. It was a reason. - Don’t say anything, - spouted in laughter, Simran waved and passed by a buzzing bus to his own, which had just begun to fill. Jack made it clear to her that he was afraid of the ghosts, which everyone believes in if there is trouble with him. - It’s about the string, but it’s a long story... - sneakily smiling, the brunette wanted to keep secret the reason for their reencounter. It seemed to her something intimate, intimate. - You’re stupid, concluded Jodie with a sigh - let Nancy talk to you - and she looked back, as if expecting her friend to stand behind her, but late remembering her absence, crudely quoted, oh, yes... It always disappears at the wrong time. Simran laughed and yelled at the bus. *** People know: when police sirens are running through the streets, it means that crime is going on somewhere. It is difficult for officers, guardians of order and security of citizens, in a year when individualists do not fear justice. Taking advantage of the disorder, they create a new chaos. Benjamin Moss, stepping into duty, gives himself a word to fulfill his duty as an officer in good faith. On one of the autumn evenings, when the streets of New York City are tinged with a colorful orange color, due in large part to the falling leaves, and from the coffeehouse there is a spicy aroma of hot drinks and jam cakes. Benjamin, together with his companions, took the car and went immediately to the designated address. Sometimes there was a need to take up arms, and at times the innocent were handcuffed, but this was discovered later; in such embarrassments Mr Moss always apologized to those wrongly detained and escorted them to the exit. There was cigarette smoke in Ford’s office. Despite the cold temperatures, one of the officers lowered the window halfway down, and the draught ran through in the most unconscionable way. As he walked, he did not spare the thick moustache of Mr Barto, clutching a thin steering wheel. The yellow light emanating from the lampposts, standing in a row like tin soldiers on broad sidewalks, looked dim and very blurry. Apparently, the fog that lay on the ground, was going to thicken. And that’s right - poor visibility on the roads led to accidents, and accidents to traffic jams. Fortunately for the police, their carriage was allowed to pass without a hitch. - To the left, his driver friend pointed. Mr Barto snapped. - I know! - It seems to be raining, Benjamin, sitting next to the driver, looked up at the sky. - Rain can be a traffic jam. - We’re almost there, don’t grumble! Barto by his nature is a man who is easily angered. He is sensitive to the details that he thinks are obvious, thus not deserving of his attention. - But we’re ten minutes late. What if we don’t? Officer Moss, tell me! - dissatisfied that he was left in the back rows, not too young and not too old an American angrily adjusted his cap to a curly head. - There’s nothing to say, - Benjamin cut a sharp line with his eyebrow and added softer, - in time we get it right. The intruders are unlikely to escape. And Mr Moss did not miss in his considerations: the criminals remained motionless in the ill-fated apartment with empty rooms. The only furniture here is a round coffee table, sideboard, filled with dust web and a couple of stools. Instead of a bed, the beds are made of newspapers, broken windows are covered with lumps of cloth, obviously to prevent cold air. Four were on the floor in a state of cattle, two more - boy and girl in another room, on an old mattress, naked and in delirium. Looking at these corpses, Benjamin in disgust cracked his thin mouth. They smelled unbearably dirty and unclean, someone vomited on their own clothes, but, it seemed, the stench did not bother them. The officers detained those who were sane and tried to take them out of the apartment. One was lowered onto a stretcher and covered with a white robe. The mouth of the dead man was slightly open, and from the corner a foam had gushed out, which with time had dried up and turned yellow. The white pupils of the Latino shone, but one of the policemen covered his eyelids, allowing him to sleep in eternal sleep. -Overdose, - Standing up next to Benjamin, concluded Barto’s business and put his hand on his belt. - Cocaine? - Well, this will show the autopsy, but according to the bags found in the pigeon room, by the way, also dead, yes, it is a coke. And what do they lack in life, the hell of them? - ironed his moustache Barto. - Young at all. I think students. - The girl, who was my daughter’s age, stared gloomily at the young blonde corpse of Mr Moss, inadvertently introducing Simran in a strange place. The horrible sight of a pale and breathless body struck his heart like a scorpion’s sting. He swung away in fear, wiping his wet forehead. - The young people are going crazy. They think that they understand life, while life, taking advantage of their naivety, is simply playing with them. Cruel, by the way, games. Really cruel, said the officer. - This is you, Moss. Keep an eye on your girl. - I know I can trust her. She’s smart. - Confidence in your voice doesn’t make you doubt it. Well, let’s get out of here. The night is just beginning. *** Nancy rolled over on her side with difficulty and almost fell out of bed on empty bottles of beer and cheap but strong cognac. A scattered glance at them, she wrapped herself more tightly in the sheet, covering her nakedness before an unseen spectator, then finally sat down. She could no longer call this room a stranger. Everything here became a home, something precious and familiar. For example, nailed to the wall shelves with bruised books, clearly taken not from the store. To a wide chest of drawers with a broken handle. It had an old record player, a stack of vinyl records and a kerosene lamp that served more as a decoration than a crowbar. Men’s trousers and blouses were hanging on the chair. Dirty socks gathered on the carpet and a couple under the chair. There was a wire hanging above the bed with the light bulb off, which meant one - this day. Another stormy night came to an end. Nancy had more than eight nights since the end of September. The calendar hanging on the nail showed October 16th. The brunette, having straightened her curly hair, felt her jacket and trousers with one hand, quickly dressed and looked out of the thin door. - You’ve been sleeping a long time. -What time is it? - She missed Benny’s remark on the way to the bathroom. Turning on the faucet, she sensed from herself the remnants of drowsiness and thoroughly wiped her swollen eyes. After drinking in the morning, she was usually nauseous, but today she is surprisingly cheerful. Only the unpleasant smell from her mouth gave away the mystery of yesterday’s adventures. - Almost eleven. You’re breaking records. - What don’t you like? Could have woken up if that was a problem,' said Nancy under her nose, and took a toothbrush from Benny’s mug and began to clean the gums. Meanwhile, the blonde, working diligently on the fast breakfast, turned over the eggs in the frying pan and unsuccessfully covered himself from the splatter of oil, which hurt him. Finally, he finished the job and sat down at the table with an omelet of sausages on both cheeks. -Will we meet again tomorrow? - Again? You haven’t even left yet, so we can schedule a new meeting,' said Benny with his mouth full. The girl stared at him in anger, but apparently, not wanting to show her mood, she straightened out his face, so the wrinkles on his forehead smoothed out, and hugged him from behind. The cold fingers ran down the bare breast, slightly sticking their nails into the hot flesh. Benny was breathing steadily, but his breath increased with the touch of a seductress who had been present in his life for more than two weeks. They had not stopped seeing each other since the day they first met. Of course, Nancy was the one who took the first step. She approached him, took a confident pose and said something confident. This was what attracted Benny: her ramblings, audacity, coquettishness... Nancy seemed to live in one day and never worried about the consequences. At first they just danced in clubs, went bowling or shooting. Got to know each other, although both were impatient to undress and jump into bed. Alas, unfortunately for Nancy, at that moment she was treating her herpes, and to the misfortune of Benny - he foolishly thought that Nancy would sleep with him. It’s easy to take a girl for a decent person if she smiles at you all the time. With men, it’s easier - they are dishonest by themselves. However, the love affair happened after another dance. Benny took the girl to Jack’s apartment, undressed her and took what he had wanted for so long. Like a predator looking for his prey, he triumphantly plunged his fangs into the fine bone. Grubby, fast and without due care. - Don’t you miss me? - With a wet kiss on the blonde’s neck, she whispered to Nancy. - We have fun together. - You’re amazing, baby - by grabbing her head, leaving a strong kiss on Benny’s tender cheekbone. Meanwhile his words sounded dry, not truthful, as if he had been forced to speak. Nancy rolled her eyes. - You’re a terrible person. It’s a nightmare! She pushed him away. - You don’t have to be such a pussy-ass, baby, - Benny said with his finger. - I can’t stand the moaning. - I haven’t started anything yet! - There you go. Bring me a metal box. It’s under my jeans, on the couch. Find it? - You don’t care about me at all, Benny! she screeched and brought the blonde with a stuffed box. Before in the box from Montpensier were lollipops, and now - two sachets with white content and slightly cracked green mixture. - Where do you get this crap, if you say you owe a lot to who? - watched intently the actions of musician Nancy. - It’s none of your business. do you want to? - shook that one with a white bag. - Is it good? - It’s fucking great. I know my baby will like it, - suddenly the blonde spoke with affection and pulled that one behind the thin waist closer. - Can we do it together if you want? And then... -Then?.. - The girl’s heart was beating more often. She was all dusty, watching each movement of her breath object. Benny’s lips fluttered in a smirk, and he plunged into Nancy’s mouth with a rough kiss, tasting her fresh breath and her essentially sweet mouth, which had been opened open under the pressure of others. Their slippery tongues joined in a passionate battle, stroking each other, fighting for dominance. Benny devoured her, suddenly overtaking the desire. In his calloused hands she resembled soft clay from which it was easy to blind any shape. She was pliable, yet hot and stubborn. They kissed for a long time, deeply and moist, until their breath sucked, and their lips were swollen from the painful caresses. - Well, what? Do you want to or don’t you want to? whispered straight into the open wet mouth of Benny, slowly running his finger across his chiseled chin. - Want. Falling in love is like hypnosis - you fall into it at the first word of your ruler. Nancy and did not notice how she fell into it. She only wanted to please Benny, get his approval, appear perfect in his eyes. For a moment she forgot and lost herself. Only for a moment. Benny smiled profusely. He was going to lure the girl into his spider nets, but his plans were thwarted by Jack’s invasion. He went down into his domain, opened the door and was astonished. - You’re back?.. - Benny immediately cleverly hid it back in the bag box. If Jack sees them, there will be a scandal. - Why are you still here? - Talked to the Rockfreegirl. - I’m not your guest, Nancy said. - But you are a guest in my house, he snorted and looked at Benny; I didn’t want to bring it up, but you’re forcing me. When will you be back? - I don’t have enough to pay the rent. I owe the landlady for two months - Benny knew perfectly well why Jack had taken it out on him. They talked about it more than once, and that was Nancy. The presence of a girl in an unfavorable area is unacceptable, as well as the relations between her and the musician. It’s not that Benny is six years older than a schoolgirl, or in his errant way of life. Jack may be just as messed up, only he doesn’t care about Nancy’s future, which in turn is exceedingly reckless and easy. From the outside she seems such a sharp and independent personality, one that will not allow her to mess with her brains. But this is only at first sight, as Rockfreehas found out. It’s obvious that Nancy is in love to the hilt, and being in love pushes us to extremes. Not wanting to talk about it anymore, Jack unbuttoned his coat and glanced at the open door of his humble room. - You take advantage of my absence and do it right in my bed! - the musician got really angry - he had every right. - Not comfortable on the couch! said Nancy. - We checked, added Benny. Whispering swearing, Rockfreedisappeared behind the door. Nancy examined him with a long stare, then turned to her lover: - I’ll get you the money for your apartment. - Really, baby? - smiled Benny as he put her on his knee. She nodded. - I want to be alone with you. So that no one gets in our way... - Will you pay off my debt for me? - Jokingly threw the blond and laughed, but Nancy wouldn’t do it. Her thick eyelashes, at birth looking up, reached almost to the eyebrows. She pondered on Benny’s line, indeed deciding to help with his dilemma. But what could she? Her family is not able to boast about the opportunities and money their cat cried. They live modestly and quietly, and Nancy wants loud and luxurious. Perhaps he will be the one to give her this luxury? When it was time to go home, before leaving, Nancy addressed Jack with gratitude: - Thank you. - Please. - Benny told me exactly what you think of our relationship. - He’s not saying you’re his girlfriend, so what kind of relationship are we talking about? Nancy stood motionless and glared at him. - Just because you make love doesn’t mean that you’re in love with each other, said Jack, chasing every syllable. He wanted to sound rude to sober the girl, but it was too late. She had already given in to her charms of love and believed only in her imagination. - You don’t know anything about my feelings for him. - Perhaps, nodded the brunette and leaned down to her, held a pause, and then said conspiratorially: but I know him. Be careful on the road and say «hello» to your friend. - It’s funny you think of Simran. Do you often dream at night? - Nancy stung him and slammed the door in front of his face. The jelly that was poured into Jack like a venom was not without cause; as you know, it was repeatedly present in his dreams. He hastily shared this with a faithful friend, now lover of Nancy, and lovers usually share not only the bed together, but also other people’s secrets. What can be more pleasant after a stormy night of passions to wash the bones of everyone, about whom you will remember in time? Right - only strong coffee. Receiving a verbal slap in the face, Rockfreesoftened and shamed his eyebrows together at a broad navel. On the one hand, you can not blame a person for his dreams, because in absolute peace man ceases to control his consciousness. And if you look at the situation of Jack through the eyes of Nancy, how does he dare to criticize others, who himself is dreaming about a girl younger than himself? It’s a mess. In the defense of Rockfree- there is no love between him and Simran, only dreams. She flashes in them as air, wind, moonlight. This is not love, it’s... for creative creation - a muse. And indeed! -ever since Simran began appearing to him in his dreams, Jack has not let go of the pen and paper. He was looking for a quiet, deserted place where it was possible to turn ideas into designs. Jack wrote both music and his literary child. The words spread out on pages of ragged sheets, created a symphony or amazing pictures. For a long time he had not felt these glorious feelings, heat and euphoria when his head was filled with living flowers. In a week he managed to write two songs: one about love, which is not dreamed of like him, the other about freedom of spirit. Pleased with his creative breakthrough, the boys from «Inday» gathered at the pizzeria and celebrated a small success: - At this rate, we will release our first album! - Rocky with his teeth opened a bottle of pepperoni and took a big gulp, swallowing eaten pieces of pepperoni. - We’ll be popular and successful, like the fucking Brits! - Buddy whistled. - Good-bye, Presley, good-bye, Beatles! The Dads from «Indie» are in a hurry to kick your ass! - did not regret the audacity for his statement Benny. In the first weeks of October, Jack spent on art. On Monday he met with his friends from the beatnik club. There they were engaged in reading their works, sharing intimate thoughts and views of life. Beatniks deeply respected their predecessors and drew inspiration from the works of classics of the same «lost generation». Just like Jack, many of the club were deified by Kerouac and also began to delve into Eastern philosophy. Such was Mary, the poet, who preferred to be naughty and meditative. Beautiful but infantile; with long caramel hair and a big mole on the cheek, which not only did not spoil her beauty, but also gave her charm. For a long time, Mary has been trying to convince Jack to clear his mind and achieve enlightenment, which in translation into our language is making love. Of course, the writer insists on rejecting this idea, knowing perfectly well where such a thought came from in the head of a charming poet. They simultaneously read the work of Kerouac «Vagabonds of Dharma». On another Monday, after the club meeting, Jack in good spirits left the gray walls of the apartment. The weather deteriorated noticeably, it was drizzling rain, from which he rolled his nose into the high gate of the coat and put his hands in his pockets. - Jack-i! - Mary crept after him. The cold made her cheeks turn white. - Let’s go and have some cognac! She was neither fat nor thin, with a strong and rude accent that cut the ear, jokingly slapped his shoulder. The blow was soft because she wore a shortened red fur coat. These are often found in second coats. -I have a rehearsal tonight. - I beg you, don’t be boring, bunny. - And you don’t have to insist. - You’re nasty! You leave me no choice, scoundrel, - you hold Mary’s breast in a theatrical manner, making the expression of deepest sorrow - I shall have to drown myself with cognac and join the ranks of alcoholics by the new year. I’ll get a hot, I’ll be sent to the hospital. I’ll write about this novel and receive a writing award, but I won’t even remember you in my speech! Is that what you want? Jack laughed, allowing Mary to hold him by the hand and lean on him, and gently led her to the bus stop and allowed himself to kiss his cheek. - I love you, Jack - and you know that? I hope to be your wife one day. - What about the path of enlightenment and the trip to India? You’re delusional. - What’s wrong with doing it together, my good man? -Hmm, what about age? - What’s wrong? Aren’t you attracted to experienced women? said Mary. - You’re a good mother to me. - You son of a bitch,' she croaked in Russian, but even so Rockfreerealized that she was swearing - I turned twenty-eight at the beginning of summer! - So I rounded. - Take you, the devil, a girl turned her head in feigned anger, not letting Jack slap him on the cheek. - Don’t frown, grandma. The wrinkles will stay, and you’ll walk like a pug. Mary smelled of port wine: she hid the flask in the rubber stockings and at times drank a sip. Half-American, half-Russian, she had the hot blood and explosive character of a real Slavic woman. Having said goodbye, each went his own way. Jack had to go down three blocks to his station. In that instant, as the clouds circled through the sky, heavy drops of rain fell on lower Manhattan, and immediately the quarters were lit up by pillars, headlights, and neon signs. Signaling to each other, the cars have created a long chain at intersections. Jack had no place to hide from the rain and the strong wind gusts, the dirt of the streets falling on the kerbs. As the crowd crossed the road, opening their mushroom-like umbrellas, Rockfreerushed forward, but inadvertently hit the girl with his shoulder. They quickly looked back and slammed each other «I’m sorry», only none of them made another step. It should not be forgotten that New York is a treacherous city: for those who are waiting to meet, it expands its boundaries, and those who do not want it sweep them away. Jack looked at Simran, and Simran looked at Jack. At some point, completely stunned, he thought he had fallen asleep again, and Simran was nothing but the usual vision. The noise of the rain slowly spread this thought, returning both to reality, where they were frozen in the middle of a pedestrian crossing, under the October rain, between people and cars that broke through the holy flares fog descending on the ground. Little by little the stupor in which they fell together retreated, and, by inertia, taking Simran’s wet palm, Jack pulled her to the opposite side of the street. Just as the traffic lights lit up red, and traffic on the road resumed with new power. - An unexpected encounter - looking for a long time at the place where they had run into each other seconds before, removed the wet strands from Simran’s face. She was also, like Jack, without an umbrella, from that one and oily, with moist tangled hair under a red headband. On the body gray coat and mustard tights, shoes soiled in puddles. She brushed the raindrops out of herself and plunged under the apron of the nearby cafe. - You’re in Manhattan because I’m here? -Jack said it with confidence. - Something else! said the girl with a mocking look. He stood beside her, destroying the distance between them. - I took part in chess competitions. - What an interesting set, Rockfreelooked intrigued at her. - So you hit it off, did you? - I managed to make it to the next round, but that’s probably enough. I’m not as good as many people might think. Of course, I will come here in a week, it is my duty, only to hope for victory does not make sense. - A statement of principle, don’t you think? - I look at many things without a tendency to self-deception. If I know that I’m not good at something, does it make sense to jump over my head? Jack didn’t answer. Instead, he went into his pocket and pulled out a second cigarette. The wind came up, cut off the rain, so that he, like a bad child, in order to make trouble, began to beat on the shoes of our heroes. Simran retreated closer to the building. Jack just thought of lighting a cigarette, as from the cafe a waiter appeared and politely asked to smoke away from the threshold. Then Rockfree, in respectful humility, removed the straw and turned to Simran: - Can we have a hot drink? It’ll last longer. -No, I have to go back to school. - Almost the second hour, he pointed at his watch. The glass was cracked, but the dial wasn’t damaged - the hands were indicating the time exactly. - I don’t even know your name,' Simran was frantically looking for a reason to turn down the invitation. Jack held out his hand to her, but before that he pulled the leather glove off of her. - Rockfree. Jack. - So, Jack, or is it Rockfree? - Shakily grasping someone else’s palm. - Depending on the situation. Rockfreeis my stage name. I am playing in a band - and again it is pleasant to the touch of a tender hand, cold, wet, yet unusually soft as silk. Jack realized too late that Simran was holding his hand for too long, and let her go. - I haven’t forgotten. My name is Simran, but my parents call me Kiwi - in turn, the girl replied and blushed heavily, realizing late that she had talked too much. It happened by itself. This is what happens when a person opens up to you and you want to reciprocate. -Wow,' said Jack, 'why Kiwi? - Ah... whatever. They entered the establishment, occupied a vacant place. Simran stepped back to wash her hands, and when she returned, the waiter just left their table. - I ordered black tea and eclairs. Do you like eclairs? - Thank you, she didn’t admit that the custard was low on her list of favorite cheesecakes. The man gave her a drink and it would be impolite to give up sweets. This is a must-have. At the same time, Kiwi was very careful to avoid looking, and unfortunately for her, Jack noticed it. - Why aren’t you looking at me? Simran became awkward; she quickly looked at him. She was embarrassed to be in the company of a man who first robbed her, then returned the stolen goods and now offered her tea. -You made me skip school. By the way, for the first time, - didn’t explain anything to Simran. - Didn’t we agree to wait until after the rain? And for studying later. - It’s never too late to learn, said the girl softly; the corners of her mouth are drawn out in a smile. - Then what’s holding you back? - Jack threw himself on the back of the chair. Simran is not lost. - I’m waiting for my tea. He smiled at her as well. The waiter brought a tray with lights and tea service. -I know we didn’t start off on a good note. - Rather, we just screwed up. - You can always play the song again. - Do you judge by your own experience? - It’s not about the music, I rolled my eyes at the hints of the Rockfreeschoolgirl. - Is it? Tea, putting hot steam to the ceiling, filled a round cup with a wide ear. Two cubes of sugar, bubbling, humbly dropped to the bottom of the dishes. The aluminium spoon completed what had been started: it stirred up the broken sugar from the boiling water and made the leaves of the baking swirl in the whirlpool. - So you don’t want to be friends? - That’s the point of all this? Kiwi nodded in surprise, and out of embarrassment she took her eyes to other tables, behind which there was a lively conversation. Here the energy is full of inexpressiveness, discomfort, strangeness... - Your words will make me sleepless, I said a sip of Simran’s tea. - I don’t care. If I’m the reason you can’t sleep tonight, it doesn’t sound bad to me... being your insomnia. -What?. - That’s fair - as if nothing had happened, Jack continued, not noticing how wide open Kiwi’s eyes are - because you come into my dreams without warning. The situation was getting out of control. Simran was so embarrassed that she choked on tea. - How shameful to say such things to a girl right in the forehead! - I don’t confess my love, there’s no need to be so blushing, the musician chuckled bravely. - That’s not enough! I’m afraid we’re too different. - At least we agree on something. - Have you always lived in New York? - Suddenly, Kiwi changed the conversation, holding a cup of tea with both hands to keep warm. In the cafe where they wanted to wait for the rain, it was already warm, and around hanging lamps sprouted steam from tea, hot chocolate, baked dishes or high-temperature drinks. -Why are you asking? - The way you say it... Some words sound different, more southerly. And intonation - you have a pop. It’s hard not to notice the language features in Jack’s speech if you’re from, say, Chicago or New Jersey, or better yet, Britain; then you’ll be amazed at how our character is spoken. Simran even at the first meeting noticed the difference in dialects and tried for a long time to figure out, which region is Jack. The fact is that the vowels spoken by the musician were merged into one sweet cocktail, which was stirred in a blender called rhythm, and if more detailed - Spanish rhythm. Such modifications occurred for one obvious reason: immigration; mixing Americans with immigrants from Mexico. Rockfreetried to suppress this distinctive feature that gave him, in any case. He read many books by American and English authors in the hope of correcting his southern, undesired pronunciation. So far he has not succeeded. - You’re a pretty observant baby, aren’t you? -coughed Jack. - Is that some kind of secret? Don’t try to avoid the answer. - No, I don’t, the boy shook his head, it’s no secret. I’m from Kansas. -Hmm, that’s what I thought, but honestly, I was leaning more toward the South, towards Oklahoma. What city are you from? - I went straight to Simran. -From the cowboy capital of the world. -I don’t know about that. - Really! Don’t you watch Wild West movies? -I don’t like pictures where there’s a lot of gunfire and blood and swearing. - This is part of our history, bloody as it may be. However, history cannot be written without blood, right? -nibbled with appetit at the Rockfree’s eclair and shrugged. Simran grinned sadly, but agreed. -I’m from Dodge City. - Do you live here alone? -Absolutely - "If you don’t count Benny’s freeloading buddy," didn’t call Jack. - So your family’s still in Kansas? Suddenly the shadow fell on the musician’s careless face; he became serious and thoughtful; his leg, which he had been twitching under the table all along, stopped. For a moment, he stopped chewing the eclair and seemed speechless. As we remember, Jack did not like to talk about his family because the memories are pressing on old wounds. Would you like to think of people from the past with whom you are connected by sad events? Or if someone mentioned the death of your favorite dog when you were barely ten? So much for the life in Kansas, the home he had left when he was young and his blood was boiling and his women were blossoming. - Right on point, said Rockfree, unwittingly, clearing his mind of unwanted thoughts. - It is said that the one who had a happy childhood, all his life lives on memories, and the one who was unhappy - runs from them. Do you agree with me? - he raised an emotional gaze at the embarrassed Simran. The little girl, not knowing how to answer, awkwardly bit her lip. Jack noted that the eclair in her dish remained intact and with some disappointment breathed a full bosom, as if summing up today. After they calculated and left the establishment, having found themselves on the street after a long rain, both remained in tepid silence. None of them added a step, strolling through the wet quarters, watching the crimson leaves waving in shallow puddles that hid under themselves pits. The dark asphalt, recently warmed by the rays of the sun, gave off a familiar smell of damp, dust and rubbed tires. The evaporated water also made its contribution; the leaves on the trees, which were rustling in the winds, shook out the raindrops, which fell on the tops of passersby. Rockfreeled Simran to the bus station. - Do you know what kind of transport to get on? - Of course I do. I’ve been reading the book. You think I’m five? -Well, sometimes it seems like... - Rude, Simran’s chin snapped at someone else’s joke. - I had a good time - Jack told me unexpectedly, even for himself, and scratched my back awkwardly. - I mean, you’re not the worst company for a cup of tea. - How nice to hear the cheater’s praise! Ironia, having slipped from the brunette’s tongue, forced the young man to smile sincerely. Now he remembers their first meeting with warmth and even slightly giggles. - Simran - Jack called her quickly, noticing that the right bus was approaching the stop. - Yes, Jack? - Keep your thoughts in your head and don’t tell your friends. - What are these teachings from? - Do they tell you much? - Of course! frowned Simran. Jack is tired. - Did Nancy tell you she’s sleeping with my friend Benny? Caught off guard by the news, Simran initially couldn’t move. It was only when the squeaky bus stopped and opened the creaking door that she came to her senses and strode towards the ramshackle car. - Be a good girl, Simran, Jack whispered at the end; but, he screamed, his words would not have reached the girl’s lovely ears anyway, for the pulley engine of the bus had almost knocked out the whole block. «Old junk», - so the batter called him and waved his hand, rushing at a brisk pace in the opposite direction. Simran took a free seat by the window, crammed into it like a fly, and began to look at Jack. - He didn’t even say «goodbye» to me. He could have! I was waiting for this - she sighed and got upset. But why? Because she broke up with Jack so soon, or because her friend was hiding her affair? In Saint Mary, whom she equated with an enclave, the girls were a cohesive collective and called each other sisters as well as teachers. Helga’s sister, Anastasia’s sister, Rosette’s sister... They had no secrets about each other and they shared everything, both news and food. New York once again looked like a foreign and hypocritical metropolis. It seemed that the more she knew people, the farther they became. At times, Simran missed the boarding school, but most of all - her naivety. She is still very simple, but every once in a while her eyes are opened to the bitter reality. On the way home Kiwi tried not to think how beautiful and attractive Jack is. And finally, when she reached the porch, she stopped at the threshold, glancing over her shoulder as if someone were there, and, with a broad smile on her face, accepted these thoughts. Death comes instantly. And what is faster than death? Right - love.