The Place Where

by Rodion Pretis

  He picked up a nozzle from the floor and vacuumed the tables and bookshelves.

  A new butch has risen in connection with the change of beds. He thought that it was not necessary for him to overthrow his own, as he slept on it only one night, and then he began to persuade me persuasively that his back was too weak to turn over mattresses, and considered it necessary to do this with each of the three mattresses, so that the process was long and painful. However, in the end it was all over. I let him rest for a while and have a bite in front of the TV, and then told him to set a dinner table in the kitchen.

  “That wasn't on the list!” He said, unable to tear his eyes away from the skinny short-lead television game - the one that always splashes its hands in front of the dishwashers, as if it were some kind of miracle.

  “My mother would be happy if you filled your day with something useful,” I said.

  “No, really,” he said, punching the sofa cushion behind him. - In my opinion, I injured my back with these damned mattresses! No fools. I need to take a hot bath! - He looked up at me and smiled, for the first time in all this time. - My God, a hot bath would be just a holiday now! You could even stand nearby and keep me on the fly all this time, I won't mind.

  I had no doubt about that. However, he was not the only one who watched "Deceived" [74]. However, if you do not let them try all the options, they simply won't believe it. Some thought of seduction came to my mind earlier, some later - moreover, the second group more often tried to roll up to my mother than to me.

  - Which bath do you want? I asked. - With bath foam?

  The smile on his face became wider and filled with enthusiasm.

  “Do you have anything with a sweet smell?” I guarantee that there is. Anything that your friend could sniff at you?

  “I use Obsession,” I said. “Only Obsession.” But this smell will not suit you. There is an “Obsession” for men, but we don't have it.

  “Obsession, here's how?” His smile faded somewhat. He looked again at the barrel of my gun, not realizing that I could see where he was staring. “Why are you obsessed with guns?”

  - Well no. Rather, cleanliness.

  He threw back his head and burst out laughing. It so happened that at the same time the audience in the studio laughed, and he reduced the sound with the help of a portable remote control.

  “It's easy to see.” All the more reason for me to take a bath before your mother returns home. So I was as clean as the house when she arrives.

  “This house is not clean,” I said. - The windows are disgustingly dirty. You'll wash them tomorrow.

  He laughed again.

  - How is it in that old joke? "I do not wash windows"?

  - Yes, Milk, exactly so; but this is just a joke. And you will outweigh the curtains, and vacuum everything upstairs, and clean the cellar, and I don't know what else. Mom, of course, will leave you a list.

  He sank heavily onto the back of the couch.

  “Listen baby lady Lynn, drop it.” Are you going to spend the whole day again pointing your gun at me?

  - Yes, if necessary.

  “What about tonight?” Will you and my mother guard you in turn?

  “We will lock you in your room.” You were locked last night too - only, as I understand it, you didn't notice this.

  He ran a five through his dangling locks of hair.

  - Listen ... All this was, of course, fun, and schizo, and interesting; but it is out of date. I'll tell you, I was very surprised when your mother walked around your old man yesterday and took me instead. I decided that this was one such happy occasion - too good to be true. You see, I know that sooner or later my fingers will come up with my real name, and then I will definitely be in shit. And I thought: fine, will I go with this good Samaritan - or a good Samaritan? - He let out a nervous laugh. “Well, in general, I'll go with her, and I will have something to eat and there will be where to sleep at night, and there I will tear somewhere to Mexico, to Canada, to unknown lands ...” he shrugged.- And he got pimples on his hands and a pistol attached to his temple.

  “You didn't get pimples in your arms,” I said. - It's funny to talk about pimples when there are dishwashers. It's just that your hands are busy.

  - Yes, that's right. And by the way, what kind of “Harsh Hands” is where your mother works? Is this some kind of housekeeping service?

  - You are absolutely right. This is a housekeeping service. My mother is engaged in house cleaning, that's how she earns a living. But here it turns out as in the old story - who will shave the hairdresser? In our case, it will be you.

  He looked at me, puzzled. Obviously, he never heard this old joke about the village, where the barber shaved everyone who didn't shave himself. It must be difficult in prison to learn such an everyday philosophy.

  “But that doesn't matter,” I said. - The respite is over. Set the table.

  He hesitated, about to argue again, but then changed his mind.

  “Only you will have to tell me what to do,” he said, walking in front of me into the kitchen. “I could never remember which forks to put on the right.”

  “It's very simple,” I said. - No forks are ever placed on the right, so that there is no risk of accidentally poking your companion at the table.

  He turned over me over his shoulder.

  - Yah?

  I just shook my head.

  - Oh my gosh! We forgot to turn on the dishwasher. Well, you have to wash several dishes by hand - now there is no time to start the full cycle, mom will be back soon.

  I had to poke him with a gun several times in the ribs to bring in the proper mood.

  “Well, I'll still have pimples,” he said grumpily, approaching the sink.

  “Nothing, it's the Soft Bubbles,” I reassured him, sitting down on the table. - Although it removes grease from dishes, its formula is specially designed so that the skin remains soft and smooth. And in it you can wash the linen, and even use it for a bath.

  “Well, yes,” he snorted. “For a bath I will never have.”

  I'm already quite tired of his whining.

  “You can take a bath after dinner if you really want to.”

  He folded the dishes on a rack and left them to dry.

  “You can do what you want with me, but here's what I'll tell you: I don't know how to cook, even if you put your gun on my head.” You can get my brains out of me if you want , but there is nothing I can do about it.

  - Nothing, mom was going to bring lunch with her. Her friend works in a home delivery service.

  - Oh, that's wonderful! Rubber chickens!

  “Well, you can always go on a diet.”

  As I expected, it quickly shut up his mouth. After he found out what my mother means by bail, he no longer wanted to get acquainted with her ideas about the diet. He was stubborn, but he studied.

  When he finished setting the table, I decided to let him go watch TV in the living room until his mother returned - to give rest to his tired back. I had no doubt that my mother would be pleased with the work he had done in the house, and would not mind if I took him extra time to rest.

  And I was right. Mom walked all over the house, beaming with pleasure, and Milk and I followed her in a small procession on his heels. I, of course, still held him at gunpoint - it was impossible to guarantee that he did not have enough stupidity to try to attack his mother. However, her unbridled praise knocked him off balance. After spending the day with me, he expected anything but that.

  “I especially like the way you made the beds,” she told him as we moved down the stairs back to the kitchen. - What, in camps they always lay like that?

  “How do you know that I was in the camps?” - he asked.

  “Recover, Milk,” I said.

  - No, well, jail - I understand that, who didn't sit in jail ...

  Mom laughed.

  “Good God, why did you get this?” Young man, there are people who have lived their whole lives, never having seen a jail inside! Not to menti
on more serious institutions. Lynn's father was also in the camps. We can recognize people sitting by body language. Well and tattoos, of course, - she ran a finger along his left hand, while inviting him into the kitchen. “Some of your tattoos are definitely made in prison.” Really, you need to do something with them, maybe cover on top with some more pleasant images, if you do not want to delete them at all.

  He could only look at her with all his eyes, while she sat him at the table and sat herself on his left.

  “Lynn, you can cover,” she said, pointing to the white bags that she laid out on the shelf. “And then the turn will come for your treats,” she added, turning to Milk and waving her index finger in front of his dumbfounded face.

  Beef stroganoff was today's dish. I would rather not eat red meat in such quantities - in fact, I often thought about becoming a vegetarian - but my mother wants me to stay large. I'm afraid to even think about how my arteries look from the inside, although my mother convinces me that at my age you should not worry about this.

  - Lord! - exclaimed Milk, when the smell hit him in the nostrils. - I'm starving! Your daughter didn't feed me so much at lunch.

  “A hearty meal in the middle of the day makes you sleepy,” Mom answered. - Well, now let's pop! You deserved it.

  He finished off half a plate before it dawned on him that I no longer kept him on the fly. However, I put the gun on my lap, and Milk again was under the gun even before I even managed to jerk in my mother's direction. She frowned at me, and then looked angrily at Milk.

  “Hey, you two, but don't fight at the table!” - She turned back to me. - Agreed?

  I shrugged.

  - He first started.

  A fork of Milk flopped into a plate, and he buried his face in his hands.

  - Oh my goodness my goodness! He groaned. - How did I get here? What's happening? What is this crazy deal?

  Mom lightly pulled his hand.

  - Milk, elbows from the table!

  He glanced at her between his fingers.

  “Lady, I don't know what you have here, with your locked doors and unbreakable windows, idle telephones and with your daughter poking a gun at me, but it seems I want to go back to jail.”

  “Oh no, it's hardly what you need,” said Mom. “Prison is so risky!” If you return there, you can be taken on bail by my friend Carol from the home delivery service, and you will like her a lot less than here, you believe me. She took Lini's father from prison just at lunch time. - Mom shook her head, clicking her tongue. - She, of course, did not let him go to court; but still it was all at the last minute, she still had to cook this dinner - and they insisted on beef stroganoff. The Royal Elk Lodge promised to pay for him one and a half times more than usual, so even considering that she lost her bail, Carol still works as a gangster.

  “Carol always works like a gangster,” I said. “She is the real Robin Hood from the witness stand.”

  - That's right, but still home delivery of food is such a dirty business! - said mom. “Personally, I prefer to remove the dirt, rather than create it.” She paused, contemplating the pasta on the tip of her fork. “You know, besides, I seem to prefer the weather to be too cold rather than too warm.” And you, Milk?

  On the face of Milk was written complete despair.

  - BUT?

  “Do you prefer the weather too cold?” Or too warm? Or let's say this: if you could choose, would you go to Canada or Mexico?

  - And what? He asked indifferently.

  “We're just having a conversation,” said Mom, with some annoyance sneaking into her voice. - Everyone should know how to maintain a small talk. Secular conversations for some reason are considered bad form. But if you could only see how some of the more shy guests suffer while sitting next to each other at some banquet that my friend Carol serves, you would understand how important it is to be able to have an easy conversation.

  She laid the fork on the table and wiped her fingers on a napkin before putting her hand on Milk's forearm.

  - Milk, this is your civilization, you live in it, and you simply need to become civilized.

  “Okay,” he said. “Okay, okay, everything you say, everything you want, lady.” Just bring me back to jail so that I can plead guilty and pay my debt to society. As soon as I leave, I will immediately begin to become civilized.

  “So here is my good news,” my mother said cheerfully. “I wanted to save them until after dinner, but your beds really impressed me.” The charge of theft at the supermarket is dropped.

  His mouth opened. The reaction is more than unoriginal - but at least not dangerous.

  - Like this?

  Mom spread her arms.

  - What do you think? She leaned toward him, shining like crazy. - You have a job! In the "Flaky Hands"! She raked both his palms into hers and shook her slightly. - You went through an interview! You brilliantly completed the test! You are in a team! But you know, from the very beginning I knew what you could do. - She turned to me, still not letting go of him. “Lynn, dissenting opinion?” Comments?

  I ate, still keeping my gun from him.

  “You know me, ma.” I bow to your supreme judgment. Do you have a uniform that suits him?

  “Well, no,” he said, pulling out his hands. “I will not do do it!” Blast my brains all over this kitchen if you want, but I won't do it! I will not be a slave to some crazy aunt! You can chain me in the cellar, lock me in the attic, you can kill me, but I know your rights, and I know that you are violating them. Nowhere is it said that you can kidnap a person from prison and make him your slave!

  “How is it to abduct a man from prison?” I asked. - Ma, do you know?

  “No, I have no idea,” she laughed. - Kidnapping is illegal. And I have all the official papers and all that is needed - he was handed over to me, and he went of his own free will. What's the matter, Milk, is homework really upsetting you? I know that you won’t believe me - but it’s actually much easier to tidy up in someone else’s house than in your own. That's why everything here looked so awful before you worked here. Tomorrow you can wash the windows and take care of the curtains, we still have laundry ...

  - No! Didn’t you hear me, lady? I said "No! With a capital letter H, a capital letter E, and a capital letter T! NO NO!!!

  He looked at me in dismay, as if he expected me to shoot him for it right there.

  “You're just tired,” Mom said, taking the fork from the table again. - When you get enough sleep, you immediately feel better. At least, it always worked for me - I often felt exactly the same after I poked Lynn's father all day, and then he came home drunk and turned everything upside down ... - She put a piece of beef stroganoff into her mouth and started chew thoughtfully. - I just had to develop a system, you know? Find your system and you will conquer the world. And for a while it really seemed to me that Father Lynn’s brains eventually fell into place. You know, we really once had to rivet him in the basement. It was just awful, even despite the soundproofing. But he was already doing so well, and then ... - she shrugged. - Well, we saved everything that was possible, and there is no point in crying over the rotten beef stroganoff. Like him. However, I must say that from him, and half does not smell so much as I expected by this age. - Mom turned a fork in pasta. “You are much younger.” You have a real chance. Come on, dear! I will actually cry over spoiled Milk.

  He looked at his beef stroganoff and turned white so that it became almost the same color with his mother's uniform.

  “I'm sorry,” I said, wiping my mouth. “I still have a few things to do — and today, of course, I have not yet had the opportunity.”

  - Go, honey, Milk will be here. One week of training with us, ”she added, turning to him,“ and you can wear a uniform. ” You will show yourself well in the six months of the trial period, and I will let you ride with me in the front seat of my truck, where Father Lynn usually sat ... Lynn!

  I paused at the doorstep.

  - What?

  She extended her hand into the air
and snapped her fingers.

  - Gun, silly!

  Without thinking, I was ready to take it away. And of course, here Milk finally made its move.

  But he, too, did not think very well - he simply rushed at my mother. She slapped him right in the teeth with the back of her other hand, so he flew off the chair and fell to the floor. When I left, my mother patted his broken lip with a napkin, while holding the gun barrel under his chin. I barely resisted a joke about sour Milk.

  Once upstairs, in my room, I turned on the computer, went online and got into the police computer. This is one of the few things that I did not learn from my mother - to be honest, I think that of all my skills this is the only one that she can not afford. I once tried to show her how to do this, but I just didn't get it. “I don't get it” [75] - so she put it, and did not even understand what amused me in her words.