Vitka Borzenkov went to the bazaar in the regional city, sold bacon for a hundred and fifty rubles and went to the wine stall to “smear” a glass or two red. A young girl came up and asked: “Let me have a light.” “With a hangover?” asked Vitka bluntly. “Well,” the girl answered simply. “And there’s nothing to hang on to, right?” -“Do you have?” Vitka bought more. Drank it. Both became good. “Maybe some more?” asked Vitka. “Not here, you can come to me.” In Vitka’s chest something like this-sweetly slippery-wagged his tail. The girl’s house turned out to be clean – curtains, skaterochki on tables. The girlfriend has appeared. Spilled the wine. Vitka kissed the girl right
Mother Vitkina learned about the misfortune on the next day from the precinct. Vitka was her fifth son, he came out of his last strength, having received from the war a funeral for her husband, and he grew strong, handsome, kind. One trouble: how to drink – a fool becomes a fool. “What is he now for this?” “Prison: Five years can give.” Mother rushed to the district. Having crossed the threshold of the militia, mother fell to her knees, said: “You are my dear angels, yes your sensible heads! .. Forgive him, cursed!” “You get up, get up, it’s not a church here,” they told her, “You look at your son’s belt-you can kill them, you sent your three people to the hospital.” We do not have the right to let them go. ” – “And to whom shall I go now?” “Go to the prosecutor.” The prosecutor started the conversation with her gently: “A lot of you, children, in your father’s family grew? “” Sixteen, father. “-” There! And obeyed father. And why? I did not let anyone down, and everyone saw that it was impossible to poke. So in society – one will get out of hand, others will start. “Mother only realized that this one also disliked her son.” Father, and who is above you? “-” Yes. And more. Only to address them is useless. No one will abolish the court. “-” Allow at least a date with your son. “-” It’s possible. “
With the paper issued by the prosecutor, the mother again went to the police. In her eyes, everything was foggy and floating, she silently cried, wiping her tears with the ends of her handkerchief, but she was coming soon. “Well, the prosecutor?” they asked the police. “He ordered the regional organizations to go,” the mother said, “but for a date.” She handed the paper. The chief of police was a little surprised, and the mother, having noticed this, thought: “Ah.” She felt better. For a night Vitka has grown thin, has grown – it is painful to look. And the mother suddenly ceased to understand that there was a police, a court, a prosecutor, a prison… Nearby was her child, guilty, helpless. She understood with a wise heart how desperate the son’s soul was. “All the ashes! All my life went somersault!” “You have already been condemned as a matter of fact,” said the mother with reproach, “at once it’s a life of somersault.” Would you at least firstly ask: where I was, what did I achieve? “-” Where was it? “-” The prosecutor… Let him, he says, do not worry yet, let all thoughts be thrown out of our heads… We, they say, themselves we can not do anything, because we have no right. And you, they say, do not waste time, and sit down and go to the regional organizations… Wait, I mean, I’ll finish the house, I’ll take a characterization on you. And you take in your mind, pray. Nothing, you’re baptized. From all sides we will go. You, most importantly, do not think that everything is now a somersault. ” then I’ll get home, I’ll take a characterization on you. And you take in your mind, pray. Nothing, you’re baptized. From all sides we will go. You, most importantly, do not think that everything is now a somersault. ” then I’ll get home, I’ll take a characterization on you. And you take in your mind, pray. Nothing, you’re baptized. From all sides we will go. You, most importantly, do not think that everything is now a somersault. “
Mother rose from the bunk, finely crossed her son and whispered with her lips: “Christ save you,” She walked along the corridor and again saw nothing from tears. Terribly it became. But her mother acted. She was already thinking in the village, wondering what she had to do before leaving, what papers to take. She knew that to stop, to fall into despair – this is doom. Late in the evening she got on the train and drove off. “Nothing, good people will help.” She believed that they would help.